Thaddeus’ Journey: Becoming Who He Was Meant to Be

March 31, 2026

There’s one thing almost everyone notices about Thaddeus before they learn anything else about him, his smile.

It’s steady and warm, offered freely whether he’s welcoming guests at work or greeting the men and staff at Dismas House. He believes in eye contact. In saying “good morning.” In asking someone how they’re doing and waiting to hear the answer. In a world that feels rushed and distracted, Thaddeus stands out simply by being present.

It wasn’t always that way.

“Ever since I was a kid, I’ve been in and out of prison,” he says. “I’ve been searching. Searching for just who I am.”

The search began under the weight of words no child should hear. His grandmother once told him he was an accident. A mistake. Those words shaped how he saw himself. He grew up shy, withdrawing from people. He believed they couldn’t understand his hurt and didn’t know how to explain it.

Prison became a revolving door for much of his early life. Yet even there, seeds of hope were planted. During a 12-year stretch of a 28-year sentence, he found himself singing in church and joined softball and volleyball teams. For moments at a time, he felt human again.

When he was released, he stayed out for 12 years. He worked, rebuilt his life, and drove an 18-wheeler from 2016 to 2019, crisscrossing the country and finding freedom in the open road. Driving felt natural, like it was always meant to be part of his life.

“The first day I drove with my trainer,” he recalls, smiling, “he said, ‘You’ve done this before.’”

In a way, he had. As a boy, he spent summers riding with his grandfather, who taught him how to shift gears long before he ever held a commercial license.

But life shifted again. He lost his job. Without steady income, housing fell away. Homelessness became a reality.

“There are still things out there that will trip you up,” he says quietly. Temptations. Old patterns. Moments of weakness. You’d never know today that he was ever shy, but it’s a recent transformation. “Dismas House has taught me how to open up more,” Thaddeus admits. “To stop being so shy and talk to people, deal with past situations and move on.”

He now calls the opportunity to come to Dismas House life-saving. When he arrived, staff met him with reassurance: “It’s okay.” The focus wasn’t on the past. It was on growth.

The program, he explains, teaches respect, gratitude, and possibility. “Life is worth living,” he says firmly.

“If they use the tools Dismas House provides, it’s life-saving,” he says. “But you have to make your mind up that you want to be a productive part of society. If you haven’t accepted that, the only person you can blame is yourself.”

Today, that conviction shows up at work. He had never been a host before. Now he loves it.

“Most people pass by other people every day and never say good morning,” he says. “Pay somebody one compliment and you can just see them light up.”

For Thaddeus, brightening someone’s day is more than customer service, it’s purpose.

One afternoon, he noticed a man slipping two beers into his coat. Instead of calling authorities, Thaddeus asked gently, “What are you doing?”

The man replied, “It’s hard out there.”

Thaddeus understood. He told the man he had been homeless and had just gotten out of jail himself. No judgment. The man put the beer back and said, “Thank you, man.” Thaddeus gave him a few dollars before he left.

“Dismas House taught me how to have that kind of concern for others,” he says. “Because Dismas House has that kind of concern for me.”

That spirit carries into the house. Recently, he cooked salmon croquettes and shared them with staff. Now he and another resident are talking about organizing a potluck. “The guys here are learning how to share,” he says. “They’re getting to that point.”

He’s been at Dismas House three months. In the next three, he expects “amazing things.”

He may return to driving. He may continue in hospitality. “Right now I’m trying to find that niche,” he says. “And if it’s staying there being a host, I’m okay with that.”

His employer is okay with it, too. In fact, Thaddeus has made such a positive impact at work, that they have extended his shift and he is now training others.

What he knows for certain is he can’t focus on the past, but he can shape his future.

“Dismas House is something that was created for men really trying to put their life back together. It is something that God sent,” he says. “The staff don’t even realize how much they’ve touched people. They don’t realize how much they’ve saved lives.”

To the volunteers and partners, his message is clear: “Your gifts are not being wasted. They are truly changing lives. Dismas House is restoring dignity… They are saving lives.”

And to new residents walking through the doors with uncertainty in their eyes, he offers the same warmth that defines him now: “Accept the gift that’s being placed before you.”

Then he smiles the kind of smile that says redemption is real, and it’s only just beginning.