“I was on my way to Detroit for my mother’s funeral when I saw a man’s Facebook posts about his 90-day journey living with the homeless in Mobile. His name was Eric Overstreet. I dropped off food for him and told him about my empty warehouse. I wanted to do something with it to help the community. After the funeral, I picked up Eric on my way back from the airport and took him to see the building. That was October 18. It was a cold night. The warehouse didn’t have water or electricity, but two hours later we opened an emergency shelter with 15 people and loads of food. I slept on a sheet on the hard concrete floor that night.

The next four days of setting up Port City Samaritans Home in the warehouse was the most remarkable thing I have ever seen. More than150 volunteers brought tents, blankets, and food. Lives were transformed. I have been involved with the homeless for 35 years, but never to this extent. I lived in our shelter for 162 days, working 12 to 14 hours a day. It gave me a master’s degree in homelessness with an understanding that I could only get by living with them. I don’t like the word homeless because it sounds like hopeless. People need hope.

We helped close to 1,000 displaced people during the nine months of our temporary shelter. It cost too much to convert the warehouse into a permanent shelter, so we found housing and help for as many as possible before shutting it down. Then God told me to move into the warehouse. I am obedient. I let my contractor business and nice home in Gulf Shores go and moved into a big tent inside the building.

We are still serving the displaced, but we also help those on the brink of homelessness. It is easier and more effective to keep people from falling and becoming displaced. I vet each request before sending them to our network of volunteers. We help with food, clothes, and furniture. Sometimes we help women and children with hotel rooms while helping them get into housing or shelter.

There is a lot more we can do. We often see women living in cars with kids, so I want to convert the yard beside the warehouse into a fenced lot where people can park and sleep safely at night. We will feed them breakfast and dinner. We started feeding folks on Tuesday nights in Cathedral Square; churches and other organizations also jumped in. A group from Wisconsin was in Mobile for a conference. They were walking through downtown and joined us. Now they are helping us from Wisconsin.

Solving racism also helps solve the problem of homelessness. Breaking bread together is one way that happens. I am opening a restaurant around the corner from the warehouse in May. The name will be ZD’z Mongolian Grill. The Z is for my grandson Zander. There will be Martin’s tables—after Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.— for sitting with people of other races. We also have the space to cater and become a hot food bank. We will prepare hot meals that churches and organizations can pick up to feed and love people.

I am a firestarter, but keeping fires going and solving the underlying issues of big problems isn’t easy. There is also much disappointment. I get attached and see people make mistake after mistake. I have to keep helping, even when they keep falling. We’ve seen ten people who have come to the shelter pass away —mostly from overdoses. That is painful every time.

I’m also the luckiest man on earth that I get to see God move every day. Mike was in the Port City shelter for four months and turned his life around. We got him back to his family in Maine. This Thanksgiving, he fed 900 people in his community. It is hard to see a seed deep in the ground, but one day it becomes a new tree. We’ve also sent people to their families in Missouri, Georgia, Tennessee, Florida, and Texas. We have Port City graduates across the country. Had we not obeyed God’s call, hundreds of lives would have been different in the last year.

I learned to care for others from my mom—a single mother with five kids. She was a generous woman and gave to the hungry and the hurting when she had nothing to give. She would be in tears to see this.

Helping others is also healing me. My son died of a fentanyl overdose three and a half years ago. The problem began when he was hit by a car at work. An Oxycontin prescription after surgery started an eight year battle with addiction. I gave up my life to protect him. We opened a restaurant in Mobile to provide the motivation to stop using. He got clean for a year and a half and got his life right with Christ. But he had a relapse. He was 34. Keith was my only child, best friend, coworker, and roommate. My solace is that Keith left me a grandson, Zander, who adores me, and who I get to see all the time.

My son died unnecessarily, and the pain is unbearable. I had to become part of the solution and prevent other parents from feeling this way. I want to leave this earth saying I did my best. I want to leave a legacy for my son’s death.”

John

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John’s story is part of the annual Souls series of the Weavers. The ones who stitch together the fabric of society. They show up for others and provide a more connected way to live—proving that one person who cares makes a difference. A spark of compassion becomes a flame lighting the way for others to join in. When I lose hope from the news and big problems, Weavers are my reminder that people are doing good work, often silently and invisibly. They find solutions for repairing the rips in lives and communities by just doing what their heart calls them to do. Their stories also give hope and encouragement to weave in our own threads. These are the stories we need right now. Message me if you have a suggestion for a Weaver in your community.

Lynn