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Belinda bowden couldn't believe she was homeless. The 41-year-old had been ascending the corporate ladder, making $50,000 a year as a Kmart assistant store manager, when one by one the rungs snapped.

Asked to lie about the store's stability to potential employees, Bowden quit her job. Her savings account depleted by credit-card debt and medical bills, Bowden couldn't pay her rent. Two months later, she was standing on the street in DuPage County, Illinois, with her 11- and 13-year-old sons.

Bouncing between hotels and friends' homes, Bowden eventually found shelter at Bridge Communities, a transitional housing organization that began as a small-group project in a local church in 1988.

"God can scoop you out of the gutter immediately," Bowden said. Scooping people up is Bridge Communities' specialty. The $1.6 million nonprofit now owns 70 apartments—almost all leased to single mothers. The organization vets clients and provides counseling services. But they depend on area churches for most of the vital work, from mentoring residents to furnishing apartments.

Bridge Communities started 17 years ago with a heartrending story that inspired two men. Bridge cofounder Bob Wahlgren heard about a little girl who was living in a car in Glen Ellyn, a Chicago suburb, and attending school a couple blocks from his house. When the school found out that her family had been using a bogus address, her parents took the family and fled.

"I thought I was living in the suburbs where that doesn't happen," Wahlgren said. "I always felt we had a vibrant economy. [Suddenly] I felt like my town was more vulnerable—less secure—than I thought."

Wahlgren spoke with Mark Milligan, a fellow member of First Congregational Church of Glen Ellyn. They called friends from church and invited them to Wahlgren's house to talk about helping families with such struggles.

"There were about 20 people in my living room," Wahlgren said, "and we passed around a legal pad, asking them to join us in sponsoring an apartment for $500 a month."

Milligan then called an emergency shelter and found a family who needed help.

The first family they mentored was a husband, wife, and two-year-old boy whose journey to homelessness began the night their apartment ceiling collapsed while the couple lay in bed. The wife's arm was broken, and because she lost the use of her hand, she was fired from her job. Furious, the family withheld rent and demanded that the landlord fix the ceiling and compensate the wife for her lost wages. They were eventually evicted, but not before spending all the money they had saved in rent.

With the church's help, the family regained their financial independence in about 90 days. "It worked out great," Wahlgren said. With this successful experience behind them, Wahlgren and Milligan decided that "a 90-day time frame would be appropriate" for getting other families back on their feet. It took a second family to teach Wahlgren and Milligan, now the president of Bridge Communities, that most families need more time—usually two years.

In 1990, Bridge incorporated as a nonprofit organization, and since then, congregations of many sizes and denominations have joined Bridge's efforts by adopting one or more families. The partnering churches pay $650 monthly for rent, which helps to cover Bridge's services, and promise to appoint mentors who will work with the clients for up to two years.

Besides paying for rent, each church also decides how much of a family's needs they will cover.

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February 2006, Vol. 50, No. 2