“I know what it’s like to stay outside, to lose things, to start again. Sometimes what people need most is someone who understands that.”
-Chris, employee & beneficiary-
When Chris first arrived at Shelters of Saratoga in 1999, he was eighteen and newly released from juvenile detention. It was the beginning of a long, full-circle journey with the organization he now serves as staff.
A Saratoga native, Chris grew up learning the trades early, skipping school at thirteen to work alongside seasoned masons. By his twenties, he owned his own contracting business, mastering painting, drywall, and electrical work.
“Everybody deserves to have their castle,” he says. “If your home feels peaceful, you carry less stress into the world.” His work ethic and reliability soon became a trademark across the community. From 2006 to 2017, Chris also served as a licensed taxi driver and dispatcher. “Driving a cab taught me patience and how to read people,” he says. “You learn how to stay calm and talk to anyone.” In 2020, after his mother passed away from cancer, Chris’s life took a difficult turn. He retreated into the woods, spending several years living off-grid and working through his grief in solitude.
“I know what it’s like to stay outside, to lose things, to start again. Sometimes what people need most is someone who understands that.”
After facing personal loss and retreating into isolation, it was the persistence and compassion of the Shelters of Saratoga Outreach staff that helped keep a connection open. This ongoing relationship without judgment or pressure is the essence of outreach: meeting people where they are, literally and emotionally, and maintaining hope until they’re ready to accept help. Throughout that time, Shelters of Saratoga Outreach staff stayed in touch, reminding Chris that support was always there when he was ready When he did return, it wasn’t as a guest but as part of the team.
Today, Chris works as support staff at Code Blue, bringing a mix of compassion, skill, and lived experience to his role. He approaches each day with empathy and humility. “You can’t fix people the way you fix drywall,” he says. “You’ve got to use patience and heart. ”Now in his forties, Chris sees this chapter as both a continuation and a renewal. “Shelters of Saratoga gave me the chance to move forward again.
They believed in me before I believed in myself. Now I get to do the same for someone else.”