When Charlene Rowe was six years old, living in North Trenton, she knew her mom was struggling, trying to keep it together. She imagined a thin rope that her mom was somehow barely holding onto. “My mom was around,” Charlene recalled, then looked off, as if in the distance. “But she was caught up in drugs.”

Then something happened. As often happens in the aftermath of a trauma, Charlene said, “I can’t remember the full story. But my mom was hospitalized, and me and my brother Maurice were taken to live with our great aunt, who was my grandmother’s sister.”

That was followed by “a lot of back and forth,” Charlene said. “My mom got custody again for a year or so. Then we went back to living with my aunt. There was a lot of jail time.”

Charlene remembers visiting her mother at Edna Mahan Correctional Facility for Women in Clinton, New Jersey. The huge brown brick buildings seemed to go on forever. 

“To see her, we had to go through a lot of security gates.” And the sound of each of those gates closing was ominous. Eventually, Charlene, her brother and her great aunt would arrive at a huge, open room that felt like an empty, old gym. “There were lots of other families there,” she recalled. “My mom was in her orange uniform. My brother and I were able to see her and talk with her, though. I remember her trying to encourage me that she would be a better mom. And that felt good, at the time. Knowing that she cared really mattered. It was something I could hold on to.”

“There were promises from my mom about how things would be better when she got out of prison. For a while, I believed in ‘better.’ Then, eventually, I got used to things being what they were.”

In between the visits, Charlene and her brother would receive letters from her mother. Inside of each envelope, “there were promises from my mom about of how things would be better when she got out of prison.” Charlene paused, then added, “For a while, I believed in ‘better.’ Then, eventually, I got used to things being what they were.” Sighing, Charlene said, “My mother lived her life.”

Meanwhile, her great aunt, who was a former teacher, raised Charlene and her brother, providing guidance, hope and love. “She stayed on us about school,” Charlene said. “Learning, she repeated to us often, was the key to unlocking our future.” She also insisted on having the siblings share responsibilities, including cleaning the house and shopping for groceries. I learned to cook by the time I was ten,” Charlene added. “I also knew how to iron by then.”

After high school, Charlene became a security guard, which she did until 2019 when she had to resign to take care of her mother. “For too long, she had ignored her health. She was diabetic, and, at that point, she was an amputee.” Charlene tried to be encouraging. But it was disheartening. Her mother was still struggling with heroine. Charlene got her to try methadone to ease the painful withdrawal symptoms. “We would argue a lot about her health,” Charlene said. “She was a tough cookie. But there were times when she could make me laugh.”

Then, all at once, in a short period of time, it seemed that Charlene’s world collapsed. Her mother died, then her father and brother were both killed. 

“I didn’t want to come to The Shelter,” Charlene said. “I’d always been able to sustain myself financially before.”

With nowhere else to turn, she came to The Mission’s Shelter. “I didn’t want to be here,” she said. “I was always been able to sustain myself financially before. I had no choice but to come here, though. I was depressed. I had run out of means to support myself. I was heavy with emotions. Vexed. What I wanted did not go the way I expected it to. I knew I had to come to terms with the struggle I was having deep within me. I just needed some time and support to get myself back together.” 

Reflecting on that sweltering summer day in August of last year when she had run out of choices and had to knock on The Shelter’s door, Charlene said, “The pandemic got me thinking a lot about life. Since being here, I’ve been working on what’s next for me.”

Soon after arriving, Charlene met Alyese Patterson, a Case Manager in The Shelter. “Charlene came with an aura,” Alyese said. “She had an eagerness to get on with her life.”

Smiling, Charlene replied, “Since being here, the first thing I did was get my license reinstated to be a security guard. Then I started bugging Alyese to help me research apartment vacancies.” 

“I would give her leads,” Alyese said, “then she would do the legwork. I was impressed by her motivation. My motto is that I will work as hard for you as you do for yourself. Charlene had already overcome so many struggles. I knew she just needed an opportunity to open up for her.”

That opportunity opened in the heart of Trenton at 300 South Clinton Avenue, where, several years ago, The Mission bought and refurbished an historic, but abandoned, house, which became the home for five women who were formerly homeless. Fortuitously, someone had just moved from there, allowing Charlene a new place to call home.

To move in, Charlene was able to receive temporary rental assistance from the Mercer County Board of Social Services, while she finds new employment. “I believe it is your time to receive,” Alyese told Charlene. “And the road ahead will be bright for you.”

Shortly after moving in, Charlene applied for and was offered a position as an Emergency Shelter Associate in The Shelter, where she will be helping individuals experiencing homelessness with their needs. “Having been there myself,” she said, “I know what someone can be going through. So I am grateful to be helping someone else in the time of need,” she said, adding, “And I’m all about positivity. So I hope my vibe alone will be uplifting.”