Ms. Rodriquez chose homelessness because she had to get out.

Trapped in a life defined by drug dealing, theft, and suffering physical abuse throughout her pregnancy—she made the only choice that made sense to her: protect her daughter at all costs. “I thought I was the only victim,” she said. “But my daughter was the one who needed saving—even before she was born.”

She left everything behind and lived in her car, working as a rideshare driver. She slept in service areas and airport lots near Newark, keeping the car running so her daughter wouldn’t go cold or hungry. When she finally turned to the welfare office, she was denied help because her daughter’s father wasn’t on child support.

After 2 years of being unhoused and three grueling days waiting for shelter placement—being turned away twice—she was finally placed at The Apostles’ House on the third night.  She arrived at 8PM, exhausted, guarded, terrified, emotionally drained and unsure of what lay ahead. All she’d heard in waiting rooms were horror stories about shelters.

But the moment she walked into the Apostles’ House, Ms. Michelle, a shelter staff member, welcomed her with a smile and said: “It’s okay. You’re safe. You’re here now.”

“I’ll never forget Ms. Michelle’s smile,” Ms. Rodriquez said through tears.

At that moment, Ms. Rodriquez felt something she hadn’t felt in a long time: comfort. Still, she didn’t let her guard down. “I thought she was just doing her job,” she admitted. “But inside, something shifted. I couldn’t express it then because of the walls I built to protect myself and my daughter. But I felt safe. I just didn’t know how to show it yet.”

The rules and structure of shelter life were hard to accept at first. “I was a grown woman—I didn’t think I needed rules,” she said. She pushed back, resisted. But Ms. Kidd, (the Grant Street Shelter Director) and staff never gave up on her. “Ms. Kidd dealt with all my resistance. She was patient – She stood firm, explained things -made sure I understood the ‘why’ behind every rule. And at the end—I got it. And l learned that the structure wasn’t punishment—it was preparation for me and my daughter. For our healing.”

Ms. Rodriquez took full advantage of the support systems The Apostles’ House offered—engaging in therapy, life coaching, and case management. She began unpacking trauma and confronting her past. She also pursued entrepreneurship, selling insurance to try to build a life on her own terms. The income was inconsistent, but the effort was bold.

Outside the shelter, she joined a women-led Freedom group that helped her rediscover her spiritual voice. Raised Baptist but now a practicing Muslim, Ms. Rodriquez had struggled with religious identity. “People judged me, and I didn’t fully understand my own beliefs,” she said. “But that group helped me reintroduce myself to the Bible and reminded me that God never left me—I had to just stop, listen and be patient.”

Though she didn’t want a job, she dreamed of having her own business. She started selling insurance, but commissions were irregular. “I wanted to be an entrepreneur,” she said, “but I had to learn—I wasn’t doing the work it takes to build a business. I had to get a job.”

Eventually, she took a step she had resisted: she did a job search. “The first day I really sat down and looked—I landed a remote job.” It was more than employment—it was proof that she could rebuild her life on her terms.

Today, Ms. Rodriquez and her daughter are not just housed. They live in the kind of home she once prayed for. A space of peace, stability, and possibility.

“I’m not ashamed of my story,” she said. “Because every tear, every night in the car, every hard conversation—it all led me here. “I fought for this life,” she said. “And I thank God for the Apostles’ House and the women—like Ms. Michelle and Ms. Kidd—who didn’t just give me a place to sleep. They gave me the structure to grow, the space to heal, and the safety to start again. My daughter is thriving and I’m building a life I always thought was possible.”