'You've got to be strong'

POST FALLS — Ashley has been homeless since late October.

Some nights she sleeps in a car, joined by her mom. When it gets too cold, like it has been lately, they crash at the St. Vincent de Paul North Idaho warming Shelter in Post Falls.

"It’s like a safe place. We can sleep and eat. We're all safe. They keep us safe," she said. "We're here as often as we can."

The 37-year-old said she was working two jobs, trying to stay afloat when she was evicted from a house following an accident. She's been homeless before, but said she has "never been in this bad of a situation."

Ashley said one of the hardest parts of being homeless is that "people look at you differently" or don't look at all.

She said she sometimes thinks, "Please see me."

Point-in-Time count

By the official count, there aren't that many homeless in North Idaho, less than 150.

St. Vincent's recently completed the 2023 Point-in-Time count. It's an annual snapshot of the region's homeless population and results determine how much federal money agencies like St. Vincent's receive.

Donna Brundage, community outreach advocate, said about 25 individuals and agencies sought out the homeless over a week, day and night.

They checked warming shelters, buses, libraries, soup kitchens and under overpasses, where homeless are known to stay.

"It’s a shotgun approach,” Brundage said.

Brundage said they won't have results for about another week, but the 2022 count found 143 homeless in Region 1, which is the five northern counties, with 77 in a sheltered situation and 66 unsheltered.

The 2021 PIT count for Region 1 was similar with 148.

Larry Riley, St. Vincent de Paul North Idaho executive director, said whatever the final number is, it an be multiplied by two or three to determine the actual homeless count.

"We can’t find everybody,” he said.

Riley said if it were not for agencies like St. Vincent's that provide housing, meals and more for the homeless, "The look of this town would be a lot different."

The PIT survey asked this question: "Where did you stay the night of Wednesday, Jan. 25, 2023?"

It also asks several questions, including what caused them to become homeless; how long they've been on the streets or in an emergency shelter; where they were living before being homeless; if they are fleeing domestic violence or suffered an assault, and what is preventing them from becoming or staying housed.

Brundage said there are many causes of homelessness.

"You can’t label it. You can’t judge it. And you cannot do a broad brush stroke and say this is what homelessness is and this is why they're homeless," she said. "It just doesn’t work that way."

She said most homeless have suffered a traumatic injury, are battling substance abuse or have a mental health condition.

Losing a job, a car breaking down, financial setbacks or a marital fight can also leave someone without a roof over their heads.

"Tomorrow, you might be homeless if you're living on the edge. A lot of people are one emergency away," Brundage said. "Anything can happen. Life happens."

Inside the warming shelter

The St. Vincent's warming shelter on Seltice Way is the only one in the region. It opens when temperatures fall below 28 degrees.

It has beds for 40 men and 20 women. There is a wall and lobby dividing the areas.

St. Vincent's owns the building. If it didn't, costs to operate the shelter would be more than the estimated $70,000 this season, Riley said.

When it's closed, homeless sleep in cars, old RVs, tents and anywhere they can find cover.

If they have money, which they sometimes do after receiving government assistance checks early in the month, they might split a motel room with others in the same boat.

Lisa Alberts is a warming center staff member. She tries to do more than be sure everyone follows the rules.

"I try to see where they are at, where they want to go. If I can help them in any way, shape or form, or send them in the right direction, I will," she said.

On a 25-degree Wednesday night, about 15 men were at the shelter. Some were brought over by van from Father Bill's Kitchen in Coeur d'Alene, run by St. Vincent's.

Inside, it was quiet and relaxed. Several rested on bunk beds. One man sat silently, staring ahead. Another was reading a magazine. One was playing a game on a phone. One climbed on a top bunk, rolled over on his side and closed his eyes.

One older man had pulled the sleeping bag tight, curled up, only his head visible. His belongings — a pair of shoes and a flat cap — lay on the carpet under the bed where he rested.

A few watched TV. There was a couch, a recliner and two tables with chairs. A kitchen area offered a microwave, refrigerator, coffee and snacks.

In the back is a supply room with clothing and towels for guests, as they tend go through coats, pants and shirts quickly.

"It isn’t pretty, but it works," Riley said.

He said the warming shelter isn't always calm and there are occasional disputes. Some don't care for the rules, such as no alcohol or drugs, and leave.

"We're not terribly restrictive, but they don’t want to play by the rules and they move on," Riley said.

Alberts said shelter guests are generally well behaved, but there are times she must be firm.

"You set the rules, you have to stick by the rules," she said.

Doors open at 6:30 p.m. and lights go out at 10. Guests are required to be out the door by 6:30 the following morning.

"Time to wake up," Alberts will announce.

On the outside

Some take the van back to Coeur d'Alene, where they can get a free breakfast at the Second Street Commons. Others just drift into the streets.

Brundage said they direct shelter guests to St. Vincent's Help Center in Coeur d'Alene, where more assistance is available for housing and other basic needs.

Brundage said homeless are used to being invisible, so when people actually do smile at them, perhaps say hello, it can make a difference.

"It’s really big,” she said.

One homeless man who goes by "Wolf" said he travels from one location to another, "because they try to run us out."

He suggested letting the homeless camp in parks that are unused in the winter or live in vacant buildings temporarily when the warming shelter is closed.

"Why aren’t we utilizing them?" he asked.

One woman who gave a name of Fernandez said there's a shame that comes with being homeless.

"You don’t want people to know you’re homeless," she said.

She said as a veteran she receives VA help, but she feels homeless are picked on, even when they are just sitting somewhere quietly.

"They’re quick to kick you out for any little thing," she said.

One man said he doesn't have a car, tent or money, so he sleeps where he can to escape the winter cold.

"I figure it out," he said.

For food, if the soup kitchens are closed, he said he sometimes does "something illegal" but declined to elaborate.

Fernandez, a North Idaho native, said it's far more challenging to find housing now due to rising costs and the stigma of being homeless.

"If you have a blemish on your record, it’s going to be really, really hard. It’s like you against the world," she said. "It’s like you have every barricade possible."

Fernandez said homeless people are not all on drugs, mentally ill or lazy. She said they are among those who have simply suffered a number of bad breaks and unexpected setbacks and didn't have any family to fall back on.

"They're really brilliant people… they're humble, they have a lot empathy, they care for each other," she said.

Wolf, standing outside the shelter during a smoke break, nods in agreement.

"Some of us are just trying to be good Christians and actually do something good with our lives and give back to the community," he said.

But being homeless makes that "almost like it's impossible."

Fernandez said she and her husband have been homeless since late December. They were living in an apartment in Texas and had what they needed.

But the husband was on probation and missed some appointments with his parole officer. They had to return to Idaho and lost everything.

"So now we’re at square one,” Fernandez said.

Her husband will get off probation in eight months.

They want to stay in Idaho because they love the mountains, rivers and lakes. They have their names on several housing lists and have high hopes.

"This is our home," Fernandez said. "We want to make it our home."

Ashley is also looking to getting back on her feet. She said she won a battle with drugs and alcohol and has been sober for months.

The Ohio native said she hopes to land a room at the Union Gospel Mission in Spokane.

"I heard it was a good shelter," she said.

She's looking for a job, and said she has worked as a waitress, at a retirement home and as a preschool teacher.

She believes better days are ahead. She knows it won't be easy, but she has faith.

And hope.

"You’ve got to be strong," she said. "To be out here, you’ve got to be strong."