On a cold, cloudy January morning in Seattle, rows of battered recreational vehicles, cars with missing windows and tents lined both sides of 6^th Avenue. Volunteers from Seattle’s Union Gospel Mission walked through the homeless encampments, calling out “Union Gospel Mission” and “Love Van” as they stepped across puddles and around discarded belongings.

Slowly, people emerged from makeshift shelters. Some were bundled in layers of old clothing; others draped themselves in worn-out blankets against the damp winter chill. The volunteers offered food, water, coats, blankets and hand warmers. Many of those receiving these items expressed both relief and exhaustion.

Seattle’s homelessness crisis has been well-documented, yet it continues to defy simple solutions. Critics sometimes call the city “Freattle,” contending that Seattle’s services attract more homeless individuals and worsen the problem.

Many organizations aimed at homeless services say they are simply responding to people in need.

Different experiences

Scott Cleveland, vice president of program ministries at Seattle’s Union Gospel Mission, said homelessness spans more circumstances than some realize.

“We could walk down this street and find a hundred different stories,” Cleveland said. “Nobody in third grade said, ‘I want to be homeless when I grow up.’ It’s a moment in time. It doesn’t have to define a person.”

People living on the street have recounted everything from job losses and skyrocketing rents to domestic violence and mental health struggles. Cleveland said his organization tries to work with each person’s unique story, connecting them to relevant services.

Cleveland’s own journey

Cleveland has firsthand experience with hardship. In 1999, he and his brother were both struggling with drug and alcohol addiction.

“We were in a really bad spot,” he said. “We both ended up in the hospital. My brother was in a drug-induced coma, and doctors didn’t know if he would ever come out.”

Family members rushed to the hospital, fearing the worst. But once Cleveland and his brother emerged from that medical crisis, they found their way to Seattle’s Union Gospel Mission.

“The mission opened its doors to us,” Cleveland said. “That was the beginning of our story. It was a healing process that eventually led to long-term recovery.”

His brother recovered, and Cleveland went on to become vice president of program ministries at the same organization that helped save his life.

“Seattle’s Union Gospel Mission really focuses on helping people at their lowest point,” he said. “It can be a place where new stories begin.”

Meeting immediate needs, building trust

Volunteers walked through the encampment in Seattle’s SoDo neighborhood handing out supplies and chatting with people in vehicles so dilapidated they hardly resembled the standard camper or car. Some volunteers offered prayer to those interested. Others simply listened to personal stories. Cleveland described this as a two-pronged approach.

“We might give someone a warm blanket and a cup of cocoa,” he said. “But we’re also inviting them to our shelter and to consider a yearlong recovery program. That’s where deeper change happens.”

Government agencies, including the city of Seattle and King County, have instituted programs ranging from emergency shelters to tiny-house villages. Many living on the streets say they cannot navigate the applications and waitlists or do not qualify for certain services. Cleveland said faith-based organizations have a different kind of flexibility.

“We’ve been around for decades,” he said. “Our volunteers build trust, and that makes it easier for someone to take the step toward a long-term program, rather than just a 30-day detox.”

Substance use and stigma

In the Industrial District, I spoke with a woman who asked to be called “Jane.” She said she had relapsed into opioid use after six years of sobriety. She was living in a rundown motorhome alongside her pug-chihuahua mix, named Maci.

“A lot of people think we just like, don’t want help,” Jane said. “But it’s not as easy as just going and getting on the programs. (There are) waitlists, and people who are older or sicker get priority.”

Jane described the stigma of living on the street.

“Nobody wants to talk to us. Everybody wants to turn their nose, like we’re basically scum,” she said. “They’ll honk their horns driving by, just to wake people up and let us know they don’t want us here.”

Up until a few weeks ago, Jane had been living in a tent.

“(It has) been absolutely freezing. But we were lucky enough — we got a good motorhome from somebody who got housing and gave us theirs,” she said. “But it was freezing a couple of weeks ago. We had hand warmers and tried to stay warm at night. That’s about it.”

I asked her if she had any family members she could turn to for help. Jane says she has a supportive, upper-middle-class family, but she withdrew after her relapse.

“I have a very good family, but since I relapsed, I’ve chosen to keep my distance. I don’t want to bring that around them,” Jane said.

She added that she doesn’t want to expose them to the drama of her life as an addict. She hasn’t spoken to them in years.

A connection and a coincidence

As the volunteers wrapped up their visit, they invited anyone interested to join a prayer circle. I stood in a small ring with Union Gospel Mission volunteers, Jane and a few others. The wind whipped along the street, and I held Jane’s hand. While several people prayed for safety and a way forward, I felt compelled to tell Jane she was loved.

“I just want you to know we care about you. I know society can be tough, but you are loved,” I said. “You’re somebody who’s deserving of love, and I hope you know that.”

Jane looked up, tears in her eyes, and quietly thanked me. Then she turned to Scott Cleveland to ask about Union Gospel Mission’s rehab program.

“People say there are bugs there. They’ll steal your stuff,” Jane said.

“Can I paint a different picture for you?” Cleveland asked. “Because I know. I’ve been here for 25 years. But I’ve experienced homelessness. I was a drug addict for years. It’s brand new,” he told her. “It’s super-duper clean. You’ll have your own room, there’s a shower, and the staff are amazing. It’s super nice.”

“Oh really?” Jane asked, her voice revealing a mix of curiosity and excitement.

“If you just wanted to see it, we could show you what it looks like,” Cleveland said. “I think you should do it.”

“That right there is a deciding factor, the fact that you get your own room,” Jane said. “It’s just a lot of change, and that’s scary.”

Cleveland nodded.

“Change is scary as hell.”

Jane admitted she was interested in learning more, but her worry shifted to Maci, her dog and constant companion.

“You can’t take your dog to the shelter,” Cleveland told her, adding that some people foster pets while owners recover.

A look of concern crossed Jane’s face at the idea of leaving Maci behind.

A text to ‘Seattle’s Morning News’

The next morning, I aired a segment on “Seattle’s Morning News,” sharing parts of Jane’s story. Shortly afterward, I received a text from a listener who claimed to be Jane’s mother, the same mother Jane had not communicated with in years.

“The homeless woman on the interview you ran this morning ‘Jane’ is my daughter,” the text read. “I know my daughter’s voice so I know that you definitely interviewed her. She probably had her dog Maci with her. It has been a few years since we’ve had contact, and we desperately need to get in touch with her.”

Then came a simple plea: “Could you please contact me?”

When I called, the woman explained that Jane had once been an athlete in high school before opioids took over her life. She said the family still loves Jane deeply and wants her to seek treatment. Maci the dog, she added, has been the one constant in Jane’s life, her rock.

I mentioned Jane’s concern that no one would be able to care for Maci if she went into rehab.

“We’d gladly take care of Maci while she gets treatment,” Jane’s mom said.

I connected her with a representative from the Union Gospel Mission, hopeful that this message could be shared during the next search and rescue outreach.

It was a remarkable coincidence (or maybe something more) that after years of silence between them, I happened to interview Jane, and when the story aired, her mother tuned in, revealing a possible solution to Jane’s biggest worry.

Homeless in Seattle: Kaya’s story

Another example of Seattle’s diverse homeless population is “Kaya,” who was interviewed while living in a Class B RV van with her husband, her mother and two dogs.

“It’s just me, my husband, my mom and our dogs, which we’re training to be service animals,” Kaya said.

She explained that they came from Arizona and Montana, searching for places with better resources. Kaya acknowledged that Seattle’s more accessible social services attracted them.

Kaya explained that when she and her family first arrived in Arizona, they encountered significant barriers to securing assistance. They ran into issues in Montana as well.

“In Montana, they told us it could take up to 90 days to get food stamps,” she said.

Her experience highlights the frustrations many face when trying to access basic services in certain states, including long wait times and complicated procedures that delay support. By contrast, when they arrived in Seattle, they were quickly able to access food and basic resources, illustrating how uneven resources across states complicate the crisis.

“We came straight here (to Seattle) because (there are) plenty of resources for us,” she said. “This isn’t something we want to do long term. It’s just temporary until we save up enough.”

Critics often cite such stories, asserting that Seattle’s approach inadvertently encourages more people to migrate here. Kaya, however, regarded it as a matter of survival.

“It can happen to anybody, really,” she said. “We just want to get back on our feet.”

Government and faith-based efforts

City and county programs have devoted significant resources to tackling homelessness, but tent encampments and rows of vehicles remain common across Seattle. Critics argue that Seattle’s policies, viewed by some as too lenient, draw people from other states. They say a stronger enforcement stance is necessary.

Organizations such as Union Gospel Mission maintain that help should be available to all who need it, regardless of where they come from. Cleveland said the problem is multifaceted, with no single factor responsible.

“A person living in a van with their family is different from someone who’s using fentanyl,” he said. “They need different solutions, but both need compassion. Our role is to walk with them, understand their story and connect them with resources that can change their lives.”

Union Gospel Mission focuses on long-term recovery, providing a yearlong inpatient program for those ready to break the cycle of addiction. Cleveland said many traditional approaches, such as short-term detox or motel vouchers, do not address the underlying causes of homelessness.

“You don’t get into these situations overnight, and it takes time to get out of them,” he said. “We want to see people reconnect with family, find steady work and have a strong community around them.”

Uncertain futures

For Kaya, the plan is to save enough money for a more permanent place to live. Jane’s future remains unclear. With no phone and an RV that could be towed at any time, she has limited ways to stay connected. Her mother, grateful that Jane is alive, hopes to reunite with her daughter.

Cleveland’s own story, once facing a hospital stay and the loss of his brother, underscores that recovery is possible. For Jane, re-establishing family ties and seeking help through a structured program could be the turning point. Whether that happens remains to be seen.

“It’s complicated,” Cleveland said. “But we’ve seen time and again that a combination of consistent outreach, compassion and long-term options can help people rebuild.”

Seattle’s homelessness crisis is as complex as the personal stories that fuel it. Faith-based organizations like Union Gospel Mission continue their outreach, offering not only blankets and sandwiches, but also a path to comprehensive recovery.

Charlie Harger is the host of “Seattle’s Morning News” on KIRO Newsradio. You can read more of Charlie’s stories and commentaries here. Follow Charlie on X and email him here.

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