Beyond Shelter: Lydia’s House and the Power of Hospitality

One of the most beautiful moments in the Netflix series, "Maid," is when Alex (Margaret Qualley), a single mom trying to escape an emotionally abusive relationship, finally makes it to the domestic violence shelter with her daughter, Maddie, after spending a night in her car and another on the ferry station floor. By the time they arrive at the shelter, Alex is exhausted, scared, and out of options, but they are greeted warmly by the shelter's director, Denise (BJ Harrison), who assures her: "You’re here. You can breathe."

I thought of that scene when I spoke to Mary Ellen Mitchell about her work at Lydia’s House, the Cincinnati-based nonprofit she co-founded in 2012 that serves young single mothers in crisis. Lydia's House not only provides women and their children with a safe place to live and the resources they need to get back on their feet, but also a sense of belonging and reason to hope. One single mom, who found refuge there shortly after becoming pregnant and homeless, put it this way: “God opened the gates of heaven, and Lydia’s House came through.”

I asked Mary Ellen about the origins of Lydia’s House, the women and children it serves, and what she’s learned over the years about single mothers, affordable housing, and especially father-hunger.

Alysse ElHage: Lydia’s House is a “Catholic worker house of hospitality.” For those who are not familiar with that term, what is a Catholic worker house? And how did Lydia’s House get started?

Mary Ellen Mitchell: A Catholic Worker house of hospitality is a place that welcomes people on the margins of society, often people experiencing homelessness or refugees. The movement was founded by Dorothy Day. It draws on Catholic social teaching, the life of St. Francis, and, even more fundamentally, the Gospels—especially the Beatitudes and Matthew 25. 

Lydia’s House is 14 years old. I am one of the co-founders, and I’ve been a co-director, with Meridith Owensby, from the beginning. In college, Meridith and I both volunteered at a Catholic Worker house in Atlanta. We found it early in our Christian journeys, when we were discovering what I call the Gospel-meets-social-justice version of Christianity. We began as soup kitchen volunteers, and the vision of shared life, work, hospitality, and prayer fit both of us...

What began as one house has become a community of families who stay connected over time.

By the time we were about 30, we were both living in Norwood, an older industrial community in greater Cincinnati. The departure of the GM plant had left economic hardship, and about half the neighborhood was vacant or abandoned in 2012. We were already part of a larger Christian community effort [there] and began to wonder whether we could establish a house of hospitality. With a lot of work, help, and many steps, we did.

In the early years, we opened our doors to any homeless woman that called. We kept encountering young women who were pregnant or parenting and unable to afford housing, and when those women came to live at Lydia’s House, it felt like a good fit. 

For roughly the last eight years, we've focused exclusively on pregnant and parenting women under age 30. Today, our work includes temporary shelter, 12 affordable apartments, day care and preschool, summer programs, and ongoing family programming/aftercare. What began as one house has become a community of families who stay connected over time. This weekend, actually, my family of five will be moving onto the shelter property, just adding to the mix of singles and families living together, sharing life.

Photo courtesy of Lydia's House

ElHage: Wow, what an amazing way to support single mothers and their children. I’d love to hear more about the women you serve: what kinds of issues are they facing, and where are the dads?

Mitchell: The number one issue our women face is poverty. Our demographics change, but in a typical year, about 90% of the women are African American. Financial instability often extends through their families: their parents, siblings, and friends may also be struggling. When a woman becomes pregnant or finds herself single parenting after a relationship she thought would work, there is no stable network to fall back on—that’s why she ends up calling us. She may have tried couch surfing or doubling up with relatives or friends, but eventually those arrangements break down.

The fathers are in many different situations. Some are in another relationship; some are incarcerated or involved with the criminal justice system; others are living with their own mothers or simply cannot offer stable housing or support. We hear anger, but also a great deal of sadness from the moms, as the fathers let them and the kids move into a shelter. It is especially painful when a woman gives birth while staying with us, and the father may not even come to the delivery room—or may not change his life to help care for his child.

Employment is difficult for our moms not simply because of wages, but because of the kinds of jobs available. Many of our women have a high school education or GED, but some have not completed either. They may find work in nursing homes, home health, fast food, or retail. Those jobs often have rigid schedules and little tolerance for absence. Some have probationary periods when employees cannot take time off. But children get sick. Day care closes. Someone has to take a child to the doctor or pick them up unexpectedly.

We hear anger from the moms but also a great deal of sadness, as the fathers let them and their kids move into a shelter.

I think about my own experience raising three children while working. I have a uniquely flexible job; I can adjust my schedule when my children need me. That flexibility is vital. If a mother does not have it, she needs a dad, grandmother, or someone else who can step in. 

So, it’s not enough to help a single mother find a job. We have to ask: how she can keep that job while being the person responsible for everything in her child’s life? When employment becomes unstable, housing does too; the two problems reinforce each other.

ElHage: I grew up with a single mom, and this was certainly our experience—as the oldest, I helped out a lot with my siblings, and other family members helped us when they could. But it was always hard for my mom to do it all alone... Earlier, you mentioned that Lydia's House owns an apartment complex for single moms. How did you get into the Affordable Housing arena, and how does it work for women who want to live there? 

Mitchell: When we first opened Lydia’s House, we helped women move from our shelter into traditional public housing projects. We had created a beautiful, well-maintained home with a playground, where children could be relatively safe. Then, we would take a family to a development where we saw garbage everywhere, people openly carrying guns, and surroundings where we would hesitate to let children play outside. It felt as though we had worked to stabilize a family only to move them into an environment that was itself destabilizing.

We began asking whether we could offer something better. Norwood was still suffering from industrial decline and the aftermath of the 2009 housing crisis, so buildings were relatively inexpensive. An abandoned property down the street had eight apartments and a commercial space. I think we paid about $165,000 for it—admittedly, knowing it needed a gut renovation. My husband is an architect, and he stepped away from paid employment for a time to manage the renovation and work with volunteers. We opened the building in 2018, and when it filled, we bought and renovated another building across the street.

Today, we own 12 affordable apartments, and we converted the original commercial space into a day care. All our tenants have lived at Lydia’s House at some point. Some come directly from shelter; others return after another housing arrangement fails. Because our footprint is small, the apartments are not open to the general public. But that continuity has a real benefit: families already know one another through our programs, and the housing becomes a community in its own right.

It’s not enough to help a single mother find a job. We have to ask: how she can keep that job while being the person responsible for everything in her child’s life?

The rent is income-based through a Section 8 voucher referral. A two-bedroom apartment here might rent for around $1,200 a month, while a family in our units may pay only $200-$300, with the voucher covering the difference. Families can generally stay up to three years, then take their voucher when they move, allowing them to maintain affordable housing elsewhere. Residents also receive priority enrollment in our day care and preschool. They have safe housing, child care on site, and familiar neighbors—all within an 8-block radius.

One limitation is that we ask residents not to move other adults into their apartments. We have framed this as housing for single mothers getting back on their feet, but that can be complicated if a significant other becomes involved—or if a father wants to return. We've created a supportive enclave of mothers and children, yet it is also a place where men are largely absent. That has become an important question for me.

ElHage: I’d like to talk more about that issue. You’ve written previously about how poor single mothers struggle to keep affordable housing, if they find it. And one of the things you believe might work better is group living, or living with a family member. Tell us more about that vision.  

Mitchell: I’ve explored this in two published essays, including one for Plough called “The Case for Two Adults.” One of the biggest problems with single parenting is the single part. There is a math problem that comes with a single income supporting a family. In our region, I would estimate that a parent needs something like $60,000 a year to support children independently with some stability, and many jobs simply do not pay that much.

We talk about a housing affordability crisis, and that crisis is real. But part of the problem is the expectation that one income can support an entire household: rent, utilities, food, transportation, child care, and everything else. Then we expect that same adult to handle all the parenting—appointments, school pickups, homework, meals, illness, and emergencies. It is an extraordinary amount to ask of one person.

For much of human history, and in many cultures today, people have lived with extended family or in larger households that share resources and responsibilities. Yet in our culture, having your own place has become a marker of success. I understand why. For a woman emerging from an unstable or unsafe relationship, independent housing can mean safety, control, and dignity. But I think we should question the assumption that living alone with one’s children is always the best long-term arrangement.

We've created a supportive enclave of mothers and children, yet it is also a place where men are largely absent. That's become an important question for me.

Could two single mothers share a home and expenses? Could a young mother live with her mother or another relative? Could congregate housing offer private space alongside shared child care, meals, and some of the work of daily life? Another dependable adult can make it possible to keep a job when a child is sick, share rent, or simply get through an exhausting day. 

Of course, not everyone has healthy family relationships, and shared living can be difficult or unsafe. I am not arguing that women should be forced into it or denied independent housing. I am arguing for more imagination about what a stable family life might look like—and questioning whether independence should always be our highest goal. The reality is, putting every single parent in private, independent apartments is cost prohibitive, and the units just don’t exist.

In some ways, that brings me back to the Catholic Worker vision that drew us to Lydia’s House: sharing life, sharing resources, and recognizing that we need one another. Fourteen years in, I am more convinced than ever that housing matters enormously, but relationships matter just as much. We can help a woman find an apartment, a job, child care. But if she’s still doing everything alone, she remains vulnerable.

The deeper question is how to help mothers build lives where they do not have to do everything by themselves. And, of course, the most obvious answer for shared housing is to share housing with the dad of your children. So I’m not giving up on this paradigm. I know that more than volunteers who show up weekly, or a living commune that might include men, our kids need dads.

ElHage: Speaking of dads, you ran a day camp this past summer at Lydia's House, and you've shared how challenging it can be to keep the kids—especially the boys—out of trouble, and how they seem to respond differently to the male volunteers. How important are male role models for the children you serve?  

Mitchell: A couple of years ago, we began offering summer camps because the children connected to Lydia’s House were growing older. Some came to us as babies or were born while their mothers lived here; now some are 12 or 13. They need more than day care and preschool. 

What struck me during camp was the response whenever a male volunteer arrived. The boys especially adored them, though even the girls paid special attention to older boys and men, like they were celebrities. They love Matthew, one of our volunteers, and they love my son Sam, who is 14. They want to play sports with these men, earn their approval, and compete for their attention.

I’ve gotten into the habit of asking almost any man I meet, who seems to have a little time, to come visit or play games with the kids. I want the boys to know men who show up for their lives and for other people.

More than volunteers who show up weekly, or a living commune that might include men, our kids need dads.

I’ve become convinced that human behavior is catching: we learn how to be human by watching other humans. Boys need to see men being fathers, employees, neighbors, and dependable people. They need to see men keep commitments, care for children, and show up consistently. 

We’re living in a time when churches and nonprofits have made drastic responses to abuse. Those concerns are real, and protecting children must remain essential. But I wonder whether we have sometimes ended up with spaces where boys have very few meaningful relationships with adult men because the message is "men shouldn't be around children." For a boy without a father at home, that absence seems especially profound.

A volunteer cannot replace a dad. But we can be more intentional about creating safe, consistent relationships with good men—men who remember children’s names, teach them a game, help solve a problem, and return the next week. I think our boys are hungry for exactly that, and I want to tell any man out there who's not busy in the evening, “Find a place to show up for kids, especially boys.”

*Cover photo: Courtesy of Lydia's House