Six days a week, José Ayala stops for coffee on his way to work his two jobs. Sometimes, the 25-year-old splurges on a cookie.
He arrives at the car wash where he’s paid to carry out the trash. It’s heavy, he explains, too heavy for the owners to lift. Cleaning the accessories and shoveling out dirt and mud from the concrete slab and drain are not part of José’s contract, but he shovels and shines nonetheless.
“They don’t pay me to do this,” José says. “I do it because it's the right thing to do. If the place is clean, customers come. I get to have my job.”
José’s efforts don’t go unnoticed. Sometimes, the owner calls him at his second job, Honest Tom’s, where José works as an auto mechanic apprentice. She tells him to walk back over when he gets a break because she bought him lunch. “She gives back to me just like I’m giving to her,” José says. “They take care of me.”
José has come a long way since he first stumbled onto Mobile Hope’s campus in 2016. “When José came to us, he was a shell of who he is now,” says Donna Fortier, founder and CEO of Mobile Hope. “He was depressed, very sad, had no confidence in himself, and was undocumented.”
Undocumented means unable to work, which is all José wants to do.
Originally from El Salvador, José’s parents abandoned him as an infant. An aunt took him to Mexico and then later to the United States. As a student at Dominion High School, José watched as seniors were graduating and going off with the military recruiters.
“I was like, wow, that seems interesting,” José says. “I really wanted to do this. So, I asked them for paperwork, and the guy told me I had to fill it out with my social security number and this and that, and my mom and dad had to sign the paper. At the time, I didn't really understand what social security was, so I went home and told my uncle. And he laughed at me.” That’s how José learned that the doors to the American Dream are not open to people like him.
Feeling crushed and defeated, José’s grades began to suffer. He got into trouble and had to see a probation officer for six months. His uncle kicked him out, and without transportation to get to school, he dropped out. Eventually, José’s probation officer discovered that he had no food or place to live.
“He told me, ‘I cannot get involved in something like that; that's something that you have to call an officer and report,’” José recalls. “I told him that I wasn't going to do that. He told me, ‘I know a place, I'll go get you some stuff.’ And he came to Mobile Hope and got me some groceries. He talked to Miss Donna and gave me her card. He told me, ‘If you ever need anything, go there.’”
Founded in 2011 as a special project of Inova Loudoun, Mobile Hope became an independent 501(c)(3) a year later, providing support and emergency shelter to fill a demonstrated need for youth who are at-risk and likely would otherwise fall through society’s cracks.
While food and shelter are important, Donna emphasizes the pillars of guidance and empowerment that mentors provide to move vulnerable youth forward. It’s these mentors who help infuse the services with the potential that she and her staff see in the youth they serve, and the organization needs more of them.
“Mobile Hope is filling a niche that I’m not sure any other nonprofit in the county fills for a population that is especially vulnerable,” says Loudoun County Supervisor Mike Turner (Ashburn District.) “It’s such an urgent need, and José is such a compelling case.”
Charity Navigator rates Mobile Hope at 97%, a four-star rating in categories that span from measuring impact to leadership to financial accountability. At our writing, Mobile Hope is serving 112 at-risk youth in Leesburg, just as they helped secure housing and food for José.
“All he wanted to do was work,” says Allyson Ruscitella, director of development at Mobile Hope, recounting how Costco had donated a shed to Mobile Hope. Wearing jeans in 102-degree weather, José assembled it in a day. “We just knew we needed to invest in this kid.”
A Mobile Hope volunteer connected them with an attorney who listened to José’s story before saying he could not help. Mobile Hope then paired José with a volunteer mentor that Fortier describes as life-changing for him. “In grant writing, we describe what we do, and so much of it is about the clothes, the housing, the food,” Donna says. “But guidance, love, and support — we can't put a number on those. Funders don't tend to understand that mentorship is probably the biggest difference because clothing doesn't help people get back on their feet when things don't go right in life. These kids need somebody who listens, who they’re connected to, and who loves them. And that feels too feely, for lack of a better word, for funders to latch onto, but mentorship is what sustains Mobile Hope.”
The attorney called back and said an administration change could help José but that he would need to register with immigration. His mentor took him to the office in Fairfax, then Donna and Allyson drove José to Falls Church, where, for $2,500, they got him a temporary work permit.
José’s work permit coincided with the opening of Mobile Hope’s trade school, funded by Google. Armed with a work permit, José was able to accept Honest Tom’s offer of a paid apprenticeship.
“It has been amazing,” Allyson says. “José now knows how to install brakes, change oil, and repair our donated cars. What I wish everybody knew is when you invest in these kids and they start to experience that feeling of success, agency, and empowerment, then they want to give back. I mean, José is chomping at the bit to give back.” To Mobile Hope and to the other youth on its campus, José serves as the ultimate success story.
To José, the most difficult part of the journey was not having the opportunity to choose what he wanted to do with his life. “I couldn't go ask for a job, I couldn't have a credit card, I couldn't have a car, I couldn't drive,” he says. “I mean, it wasn't that I couldn't — I wasn't allowed to.”
Now that José has some of these freedoms, he accompanies Mobile Hope as a volunteer in the homeless outreach program, “Listen for the Honk.” He donates his time and talents as an auto mechanic to help Mobile Hope get donated cars into usable condition, either for other kids to use for transportation to and from work, or to be sold to help fund the organization.
“I'm getting paid, I’ve got friends, and I work with really great people,” José says, “and now, if I need to help Mobile Hope or help Miss Donna fix a car, I can definitely do it.”
José’s mentor has worked with him for the last two years to show him how to file his taxes, and this year, José was surprised that he wouldn’t be getting money back because he earned enough to bump himself from a 10% to a 22% bracket.
José credits Mobile Hope and his mentor for pushing him out of his comfort zone and forcing him to walk the walk in order to learn. He submitted the paperwork for a five-year extension of his work visa and he’s waiting on the Department of Homeland Security (DHS) for approval. His long-range goal is to apply for a green card, and then the options of military service or jet-engine mechanics become available.
“The new José has confidence, and a lot more respect,” he says of his progress. “I’ve got the skills and the confidence to help, so I'm not here just to get help, but I'm here to help, too.”
“And now that I have that confidence, I don't want to keep it to myself,” José says. “Sometimes, you just need somebody to believe in you. That’s the biggest thing. They made things happen, and that's something that I cannot repay, but it’s something that I appreciate a lot.”