Shelter provides help for homeless women in Bellevue

Fran McKinzie, wrapped in two blankets to fend off the cold, calls out "Hello" from her metal bench in downtown Bellevue as people hurry by.

Most of the time, they don't answer.

"It's really hard to face homelessness," said McKinzie.

McKinzie's bench — tucked by a hedge and underneath church eaves that block some rain — is on 108th Avenue Northeast and Northeast Eighth Street, a short walk from luxury shopping at The Bravern.

She is often there, 7 to 9 a.m. and 3 to 7 p.m. — the empty space in the day when the women's homeless shelter and women's day drop-in center housed at the church are closed. McKinzie, 56, feels safe on the bench.

Other women sometimes join her in the early evening, waiting until the shelter, The Sophia Way, opens at 7 p.m. — a visible sign of homelessness in Bellevue.

The Sophia Way, open just a year, is the only Eastside shelter program for homeless single women. It provides eight beds. (Another bed for a homeless woman is available through Hopelink.)

The Sophia Way is an offshoot of the YWCA's drop-in center, a daytime refuge at Bellevue First Congregational Church with hot showers, laundry, computers, phones and meals.

The high demand for the drop-in center was the catalyst for an overnight shelter program, said Helen Leuzzi, executive director for The Sophia Way.

"The quantity of people we've seen was a surprise," she said. "It's not visible."

Volunteers found 158 homeless during the last Eastside count by the King County group Committee to End Homelessness, said Bill Block, the group's project director.

McKinzie, 56, is one of the fortunate with a steady, warm place to sleep. She is watched over, literally, by the people at The Sophia Way. Leuzzi can see McKinzie on the bench from her office window, but she doesn't need the visual cue to help out. She already works 60 hours a week and donates her salary.

She sees her role as the connection between people with resources who want to give and those who need it.

Homelessness is not part of who someone is, she said. It is just a situation for someone who doesn't have resources.

A need to help more

At The Sophia Way, the women tend to be older, ranging from their early 30s to their 60s. Some are grandmothers. They arrive with mental-health problems or addictions, are widows or can't find work. They don't know how to get help.

"It's not easy, especially when you're desperate," Leuzzi said.

The new nonprofit, part of the Eastside Interfaith Social Concerns Council, tailors services, counseling women on finances, substance abuse, domestic violence and education. Once the women have figured out some sort of income and have enough skills to live on their own, they move to subsidized permanent housing the agency finds for them, Leuzzi said.

In one year, The Sophia Way has helped 50 women, but with roughly a dozen people on its waiting list, Leuzzi would like to double the size.

On a recent morning at the shelter, the women woke up at 5:30 a.m. By 6, some sat at tables eating bowls of instant oatmeal, yogurt or frozen homemade waffles warmed up in a toaster and topped with frozen berries. One woman sat on her thin mattress on the floor, stuffing sheets and blankets into a duffel bag tagged with her name. Another emerged from the bathroom, her hair wet from a shower.

Shelter life is designed to mimic an independent one to help the chronically homeless adjust to life indoors, Leuzzi said. Women wash their own sheets and are assigned chores including vacuuming, dishes and putting away tables and chairs.

The agency also hosts classes on cooking or nutrition, behavioral training, financial literacy and landlord/tenant management. On weekends, when the shelter moves between different churches on the Eastside, it has more programming and fewer chores.

Carol Bostic was laid off from her job as an administrative assistant last year. She doesn't like to talk details, but said she spent all her savings on motels and living in her car before coming to The Sophia Way.

In person, Bostic, 52, is polished and exudes determination. She is still job hunting, and recently moved from the shelter to her own apartment. She cried the first time she saw it.

"It humbles you to have to sit in lobbies of restaurants and hotels to pass the time when there is no place to rest your head," she said.

A place of her own

McKinzie would rather sit on her bench than warm up at businesses where she can't buy anything.

She didn't sit on the bench as much this fall. She contracted pneumonia and landed in a hospital, then a rehabilitation center. The Sophia Way found her a temporary room in a community house when she was discharged. But she returned to the shelter after Thanksgiving.

McKinzie has big blue eyes and a composed manner. Her head was shaved recently for a bout with shingles. She sprained her ankle recently and has been using a walker to get around.

On her outdoor days, she tries not to drink many liquids to cut down on trips to the bathroom in a nearby building lobby. She knows the building's ashtrays, where she looks for cigarette butts with a few puffs left. She always clears out extra butts and throws them in the garbage.

Her husband died nine years ago; she still lives with the grief. Once a business analyst, she said, she suffered a broken back a few years ago when an abusive boyfriend shoved her into a futon frame.

McKinzie lived with her son in Oregon for a time, caring for her grandkids, but moved to Bellevue earlier this year to live with friends and start over. But the friends divorced, and she was on her own.

McKinzie's back hurts too much to work, and Leuzzi said McKinzie also needs a heart-valve replacement. She is trying to get disability benefits from Social Security.

Her son and daughter worry. When McKinzie didn't call right away after she was released from the hospital, they told her they were on the verge of coming to Bellevue to talk to police and check parks.

"Unfortunately, this has been more difficult on my children than I want it to be," she said.

McKinzie's dream is to have a place of her own. The Sophia Way is working on finding one.

Until then, she will spend days on the metal bench doing crossword puzzles, figuring out bus schedules and counting the toll of church bells for the time.

Nicole Tsong: 206-464-2150 or ntsong@seattletimes.com