A Place to Begin Again: Lorena’s Story

“My name is Lorena,”  she says gently.  “Before I came to Grandma’s House of Hope… I had a perfect life.”

For more than 30 years, Lorena served as a nurse—an oncology nurse. She spent decades caring for cancer patients, walking alongside others in their most vulnerable moments with skill, compassion, and strength.

Then, in the first week of COVID, everything changed.  Her father passed away suddenly.  Just two days later, her nine-year-old daughter—her light, her joy—was gone too.  There are no words that can fully hold that kind of loss.  Only silence. Only grief.

In the days that followed, Lorena did what so many caregivers do—she kept going.  She continued working long hours through the height of the pandemic, pushing through exhaustion and heartbreak without time to process what had happened.  But grief has a way of finding us, no matter how deeply we try to bury it.

“I didn’t take the time to heal,”  she shares.  “I just kept moving.”

Eventually, it caught up with her.  Her concentration began to slip at work.  Simple tasks became overwhelming. Out of care for her and the patients she served, her supervisors encouraged her to step away—to protect her license and give herself the space she needed to recover.

But stepping away meant losing everything.  Her job.  Her home.  Her stability.

Lorena found herself living in her car, navigating each day in survival mode. Even managing her health became difficult.  A transplant recipient, she needed constant hydration and care—but without access to basic necessities, her body began to break down.  A severe infection led to hospitalization. From there, she was connected to a shelter.

“I was scared,” she admits. “I didn’t know what to expect.”

It wasn’t until she received a call—an invitation to come to Grandma’s House of Hope—that something began to shift.

“I had never heard of it before,”  she says.  “But I said yes.”

When she arrived, she noticed something different right away.  A home.

Not just a place to stay, but a place where she could breathe again.  A place where she—and her small dog—were welcomed with care and kindness.  A place where she could cook her own meals, rest in her own space, and begin to feel safe.

“For the first time in a long time… I didn’t have to worry about what would happen next.”

That sense of safety became the foundation for healing.

At Grandma’s House of Hope, Lorena found more than housing.  She found support that met her as a whole person—mental health care, encouragement, community, and space to grieve at her own pace.

“When I’m having a hard day, they notice,”  she says. “They check in. They ask what I need.”

Some days, healing looks like quiet moments in the backyard, reading a book while her dog plays nearby.  Other days, it looks like cooking for the house—sharing a meal, sharing connection, sharing a piece of herself again.

“It’s therapy for me,”  she says with a soft smile.

Over time, something began to return.  Confidence.  Stability.  Hope.

“I feel safe here.  I feel supported.  I feel like I can start again.”

Lorena is clear about what makes this place different.

“I would never call this a shelter,”  she says. “This is a home.”

Here, she explains, people are seen.  They are respected.  They are not judged for where they’ve been—but supported for where they’re going.

“It can happen to anyone,” she says.  “You don’t have to be an addict.  You don’t have to make bad choices.  Life can change in a moment.”

And when it does, places like Grandma’s House of Hope are there—not just to provide a roof overhead, but to walk alongside someone as they rebuild their life.

Today, Lorena is looking ahead.  Her goal is simple, but powerful: to have a place of her own again… and to return to the work she loves—caring for others.

But this time, she carries something new with her.  A deeper understanding.  A wider compassion.  A lived awareness of what it means to struggle—and to rise again.

“I have more empathy now,”  she says.  “I see people differently.”

And she knows she won’t forget this chapter.

“They gave me hope again,”  she says.  “They saved me.”

For those considering supporting Grandma’s House of Hope, her message is heartfelt and clear:

“This place has everything someone needs to start over—housing, support, care, love. If you help them, they can keep helping people like me. Please… help them continue.”

Because behind every door opened, every meal shared, every life rebuilt—there is a story like Lorena’s.