Shared Strength

Could Matthew’s Hope be the real Land of Misfit Toys? Scott Billue likes to think so. “I use that analogy often when I talk to people about what we do. When these men and women wash up on our shores, we greet every one of them with open arms and go from there.”

Much like the holiday classic, it’s become a place where everyone belongs. Here, belonging isn’t just a warm welcome—it’s a lifeline for those arriving with the weight of past hardships. The people Matthew’s Hope serves often carry heavy burdens: loss of a child, a spouse, a job, a medical disability, or mental and emotional instability.

“First of all,” Scott says, “we don’t call them homeless. When they’re with us, we call them guests. And every one of them has experienced trauma in some way.”

The first step toward helping guests become self-sustaining, contributing members of society is restoring their dignity. One guest once told Scott: You saw me. You heard me. You remembered my name. Scott smiles at the memory. “It really is as simple as knowing people by their names. The biggest compliment I get is from visitors who say, Your staff and volunteers call everybody by name! Yes, we do. When people feel good about themselves, they’re more willing to take on life’s troubles. And that starts by recognizing them as a person. It doesn’t happen overnight, but it’s not as hard as people make it out to be.”

From there, the work does get harder—but the change is no less powerful. Matthew’s Hope helps mend what’s been broken through a robust program of education, hands-on training, and life skills. Guests learn everything from conflict resolution to interview techniques, woodworking, car mechanics, and retail operations. Each skill mastered, each goal achieved, builds confidence that the next challenge can be met.

“One guest worked with our medical team, went to school, got her Medical Assistance degree, and now she’s doing it for a living. Jerry came to us with disfiguring bone cancer on his chin. He wore a mask to hide from the public. We got him the care he needed. He came in the other day with no mask and life in his eyes again. He said, ‘Thank you for a second chance at life.’ We helped another woman who loves to cook earn her ServeSafe Accreditation to be hired as a food handler.”

All of it starts with getting to know people—seeing and hearing them, where others don’t. Literally calling them by name. Scott says, “We’re all misfits in one way or another. We’re no different than the people we serve, really. A bunch of broken people helping broken people.”