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They work together at Construction Junction, a building materials store in Pittsburgh. She roots for the Steelers. He proudly backs the Ravens — and occasionally the Commanders. When those teams play each other, there’s plenty of friendly back-and-forth in the store. A little rivalry keeps things interesting. But what they share goes far beyond football.

It took Andre 63 years to finally get to this place in his life: a quality job, stable housing, a reliable vehicle, strong relationships, and a healthy mind, body, and soul. While this may be a less-than-exciting yet important goal for most Americans, for people with a substance use disorder, having basic necessities and living a balanced life can be a tremendous challenge.

Every day, Angel helps unhoused individuals navigate some of the hardest times in their lives. As a behavioral health peer specialist for Sacramento County’s Homeless Engagement and Response Team (HEART), he connects people to food, medical assistance, and mental health services, and helps them find housing and shelter resources. Most importantly, he shows them that change is always possible.

Today, living in a new apartment and working multiple part-time jobs, George is finally able pursue the career he gave up years ago and begin studying to become a certified member of his local carpenters' union. The union specializes in diverse construction projects, including commercial construction, scaffolding, pile driving, and historic renovations throughout Louisiana. Working for them will provide the kind of job security George says he has always wanted and needed.

At 64, Kim knows the importance of getting another chance in life, and he’ll do anything not to squander it. After spending nearly two decades behind bars, the father of three girls recalls the feeling he had when coming home to his family and a brave new world.

Growing up in Detroit, George remembers his mother getting on the city bus to go to her job downtown and telling him that he could build something better. “My mom would tell me I could be somebody,” George says. “She believed that.” Having only met his father twice, it fell on George’s mother to raise him and his three siblings, and his grandparents, who worked for Detroit public schools. They would always stress that an education is the most important thing to have in life.

For Ahmad, Ramadan is not a break from life, it’s a time to sharpen it. As a member of the Center for Employment Opportunities (CEO) Emerging Leaders Program (ELP), Ahmad approaches this Ramadan season the same way he approaches his personal growth: intentionally, critically, and with an expectation of producing positive results. He is justice-impacted and grounded in the teachings of Islam, focused on becoming better each year than he was the year before.

When Daniel came home from prison, he thought his decades of experience in behavioral health and his advanced education would help him land on his feet. Instead, he found himself facing a wall that far too many reentering society knows well: employers who won’t look past a criminal record, no matter how qualified the applicant may be.

On the first day of Ramadan, as Muslims around the world begin a month of fasting and reflection, Linwood is thinking about gratitude, growth, and accountability. Currently, as the Senior Site Supervisor for the Center for Employment Opportunities (CEO) in Philadelphia, he leads people who are navigating reentry after incarceration. He is also justice-impacted. And he is Muslim. For Linwood, those identities are interconnected and shape his perspective on life.

Alex always loved working on cars. As a young man in Colorado Springs, he worked as a mechanic right after high school. He became so good at the job that he was soon working for several major dealerships around the city.

When Alberto completed the program at the Center for Employment Opportunities in Denver, he wanted to give something back to the people he had been working alongside for months. He knew they needed clothes to get through the coming winter, so he started a clothing drive.

When Jennifer was released from prison in Michigan at age 38, she came home without financial support, carrying grief, stigma, and the immediate pressure to survive. Jennifer was born and raised in Michigan, the oldest of three children. Her childhood was shaped by instability.