Borrowed Hope
As shared by Adrianna Kofoed, Program Director for Family Shelters.
When Darren arrived in our respite program, he was carrying far more than a suitcase.
He was carrying years of medical challenges, isolation, and hopelessness. His health was deteriorating, and the weight of everything he had endured had left him exhausted.
The day after Darren arrived, I saw him wheeling himself down the hallway toward his room as he passed by the office. I stopped to introduce myself and check in with him.
What began as a simple conversation quickly revealed the depth of the struggle he was carrying. Darren spoke openly about his declining health, the challenges he was facing, and the hopelessness that had settled over his life.
During that conversation, he shared something heartbreaking: he no longer wanted to be alive.
As we talked, I thought about another client, Max, who was spending time in the community room. Max was around Darren’s age and had faced many of his own significant medical challenges. There was something about the two men that made me feel they might understand each other in a way few others could.
So I asked Darren if he would come with me to the community room because there was someone I wanted him to meet.
“We’re like a family here,” I told him as we made our way down the hallway. “And I have a feeling you and Max are going to hit it off.”
I introduced the two men and stayed long enough for a few minutes of conversation before stepping away to give them space to get to know one another.
A short while later, I heard something that had been absent when I first met Darren.
Laughter.
I glanced into the room and saw him smiling and joking with his new friend. Less than an hour earlier, he had spoken about not wanting to continue living. Now, sitting beside someone who understood many of his struggles, there was a lightness that hadn’t been there before.
Hope.
As he wheeled passed the office I was sitting in back to his room he looked at me and said “thank you “with a huge smile on his face. What began as a simple introduction soon grew into a friendship that would carry both men through the months ahead.
Over time, Darren tackled barriers that had followed him for years. Together, we worked through outstanding warrants, completed overdue community service obligations, secured food benefits, make progress with his social security appeal, and celebrated milestones in recovery. For the first time in many years, he achieved sustained sobriety and began believing that a different future might be possible.
Perhaps most importantly, Darren reconnected with his family.
Over the years, communication had been lost, and some family members believed they might never hear from him again. Through persistence and support, Darren was able to reconnect with loved ones, including his children, rebuilding relationships that he once thought were gone forever.
As his stability grew, so did the possibilities for his future. After completing assessments and navigating numerous systems, Darren was approved for placement in an adult family home where he could receive the care and support his medical needs required.
He moved into a beautiful home where he would receive the care he needed while enjoying something he had not experienced in a very long time:
A place to call home.
A place to belong.
A place where hope could finally take root.
Throughout his journey, whenever Darren struggled to believe in himself, I would often tell him:
“Borrow my faith and hope until you have it for yourself.”
The day we received approval for his new home, Darren looked at me and said words I will never forget: “I think I finally have my own hope.”
For all of us who had the privilege of walking alongside him, there could have been no greater success. Darren’s story reminds us that transformation does not always begin with housing, services, or paperwork. Sometimes it begins with a conversation in a hallway, a new friendship, and someone willing to believe in us until we are able to believe in ourselves.
