On September 15, AVLF sponsored a screening of the documentary American Winter. Through the stories of eight families, the documentary vividly shows how one lost job can cascade into depleted savings, utility shutoffs, eviction, homelessness, hunger, and profound hopelessness.

The film follows one woman visiting a food bank for the first time. As a worker places food in her basket, the woman breaks down crying. She explains that she’s never had to turn to a food bank before; the groceries will make a huge difference to her family. The worker hugs her, touches her hand, looks in her eyes. “You can help somebody another time,” the worker says.

In the four years I’ve worked at the Safe Families Office, I have seen and heard some terrible things. I speak often about worst-case scenarios, be it in trainings or presentations, but there is a distance in the recounting. Last week, however, there was no distance when a voice on the other end of the phone said “Liz, there’s been a shooting.” It was the police calling, a call the likes of which I’d never before received and I hope I never do again. The fact that it was happening at all, though, meant a client of ours was involved.

At age 53, I went back to school and got a Bachelor’s Degree in behavioral sciences. I was living in New Jersey at the time. I almost didn’t finish school because of a serious health problem that was nearly fatal. After I graduated, I worked with the families and children of incarcerated people. But I soon began to slip into a deep depression because my health problems caused lasting impairments.

To get a fresh start on life, I decided to move to Georgia, near a childhood friend. I was optimistic about this new beginning. Soon after I got here, I rented an apartment. There were some red flags from the very beginning, but I wasn’t sure if that was because I was in a new state. The apartment complex took my down payment, but kept making excuses for why they wouldn’t show me the unit that I was supposed to rent. Eventually, their headquarters explained to me that there were major electrical problems in the unit, but they told me they were being repaired.

Mrs. Thomas twisted her fingers nervously in her lap. We sat at the kitchen table in her Vine City home, collection notices and court papers spread out before us.

“I wanted to pay the credit card bill,” she told me. “I knew I owed it, and I knew I was supposed to pay. I just didn’t have the money.” Mrs. Thomas called for legal help after she went to the bank to withdraw money and learned that her account had been frozen because of a garnishment.