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DENNIS ODA / DODA@STARBULLETIN.COM Genevieve DeVincent hugs two of her grandchildren, 6-year-old Nanna, left, and 2-year-old Zen. She and her husband take care of their five grandsons, ranging in age from 2 to 15, whose parents are dealing with drug problems.

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An avowed "street minister"
struggles to provide a home
for five grandsons

Genevieve DeVincent, her disabled husband and five grandsons faced being homeless for the holidays.

They were ordered to leave her son's apartment after being evicted two weeks earlier from a studio apartment for having too many occupants. She started taking care of their daughter's children because the kids' parents had drug problems.

But at the 11th hour, the apartment management at her son's building helped to find them a bigger place.

Management also helped DeVincent find financial assistance from two charitable agencies -- the Angel Network and Liliuokalani Trust -- so she could afford the apartment.

The Star-Bulletin's annual Good Neighbor Fund, working with the Community Clearinghouse, is trying to provide donations and financial contributions to families like the DeVincents, who are facing hardship.

The children need some pants, sizes 33/34, 14, 12, small and 3T; shirts, XL through S, and 3T; and diaper "pull-ups" in size 2 or 3. Toys for ages 2, 6, 11, 12 and 15 also would be appreciated. And if wishing could make it so, DeVincent would love to have a van to transport her brood, and to live out of if they do become homeless one day.

DeVincent had taken in her grandsons in April and requested legal guardianship of the boys from her daughter. The boys' parents have long been hooked on drugs and homeless. But DeVincent, who once lived on the streets while growing up, didn't want her grandkids to be turned over to foster care and "raised by anyone who doesn't LOVE them."

The boys get only $1,006 and medical coverage -- no food stamps -- in government assistance, but the amount isn't enough to cover their expenses. So DeVincent has had to use her salary as a part-time driver for special education students and her husband's disability and retirement checks to make ends meet.

"Most of my money goes to feeding them; boys eat a lot," she said.

When DeVincent was searching for a place to stay, she found that she couldn't afford the rent for a big enough apartment or "they don't want children and I won't lie." For low-income housing, she is No. 237 on the waiting list.

The uncertainty of their living arrangements has taken its toll, particularly on the youngest, who "only remembers being in our home. He's constantly crying. We don't have the space he's used to, the toys ... the attention. He's the only one who was stable (used to living in one place)."

He calls her "Mom," not "Grandma," and asks for "home," she said. As for her own state of mind, "I'm drained. I'm drained. But (at least) we're not going to be homeless ... I thank God for it."

DeVincent has carried out her own "street ministry" for years to help homeless drug addicts and because she needs to understand how people can continue to be "stuck and stupid while we're crying SOS."

"I'm not the only one -- there are a lot of grandparents with children on drugs out there, but they don't say anything because they don't want to lose their grandchildren" to the foster care system.

She has friends who have "lost their grandchildren," she said, breaking down crying, because of "legal technicalities" required by Child Protective Services and the court system.

She empathizes with the homeless as well, because her daughter is among them. They've told her that drug rehabilitation programs won't do any good if the rest of society doesn't befriend them or "give them a chance to try again," she said. Her daughter couldn't get a place to live or a job because of her drug record and ended up back on the street, DeVincent said.

"People make mistakes ... (Other) people need to reach out to them, not only on holidays, but year-round. Maybe then we wouldn't have so many homeless," she added.