La Salle Harris knows what it’s like to be in trouble. Over two decades, she racked up 23 felony convictions and even bore two of her four children while in prison. Her existence was a dangerous roller coaster of drugs and alcohol.
But six years ago, knowing she would die if she didn’t get help, she changed her life. She realized that no human could help her out of her desperation, and put her life in God’s hands. Now, she’s using her self-destructive experiences to help other women.
People joke about inmates finding Jesus in prison, only to forget about him when they leave the cell behind. Even Harris admits that had been her habit. She had lost all four of her children to adoption or foster care, and her life was a mess. Things were easier when she didn’t think about it.
But when friends literally dragged her to church, she didn’t resist. Deep in her soul, she wanted to kick her addictions and make something out of her life. And she was feisty enough to make that happen.
“Anybody who knew La Salle before and sees what she has done can’t argue the change in her,” said the Rev. Randy Baker, pastor of Akron Bible Church, where Harris is a member.
“It’s a phenomenon,” added friend Juanita Wilson. “A change only God could do.”
Drawing on her struggles, Harris, 52, founded the nonprofit JoAnna House II in 2012 to operate three homes in the Akron area, which house about 14 women recovering from addictions and mental illnesses. One of the homes is owned by Akron Bible Church, another is leased and the third is owned by the organization.
Women can stay in the homes for up to two years and pay $350 monthly, or are charged using a sliding scale. Staff and volunteers help them to stay sober, to find — or keep — a job, to secure permanent housing and to form good relationships with their children and other family members.
“I also want to help connect them with community resources, to listen and advise them as to what worked and did not work for me to build a life to remain sober,” said Harris, who oversees all three homes as the volunteer director of JoAnna House II.
“I am God’s vessel,” she said, adding that she has reconnected with her grown children. “God has provided all of my needs.”
Homelessness
During a recent interview at one of the homes on Allyn Street, six people gathered in the living room to chat about what Harris is doing for others and what life is like on the streets.
Resident Kathy Trimble, who was homeless recently and in trouble with the law numerous times, confessed it was difficult for her to stay inside a home where she is safe.
“I’m trying to figure out how to adapt to having a bed. Having a shower. Having clothes and other things, even as simple as having soap or a toothbrush and toothpaste — without having to fight someone for it,” said the 42-year-old, who has a job. “I got so used to being outside, listening to birds and listening to raccoons coming in my tent. It’s something I have to get used to.”
As hard as that might be to understand, Wilson, who has been sober for 18 years, explained that for those accustomed to being homeless, having to conform can be tough.
“For me, it was the norm. When I was out there I could make a home in a bush. I could crawl under your porch and you wouldn’t know I was there. It was less responsibility. I couldn’t pay someone for rent, electric and gas. I needed it for alcohol and drugs,” said the 52-year-old.
So, she added, when women get released from prison, they often go back to what they know: living on the streets.
“They like being out here. It feels safer to them. It’s hard work in here because they have to learn all over again,” said Wilson, who is a volunteer in the homes and has held good, full-time jobs for years. “What they don’t always realize is that not everybody is going to make it being homeless. Somebody is going to be found dead. Somebody’s family is going to identify that Jane Doe. For those who come here, it is a house of hope. It is a house of restoration where we rebuild and change lives.”
When Harris, currently a sophomore studying social work at the University of Akron, proposed opening the homes, Pastor Baker said the church stood firmly behind her.
“We prayed for her vision,” said Baker. “All of these women, who help each other, have victorious stories.”
In 1995, Sonya Merchant, a residential aide in the recovery homes, faced hell on earth when her daughter, Malissa Thomas, was kidnapped and murdered. The 13-year-old’s body was found in a vacant house on East Avenue. The child had been raped and strangled by now two-time convicted killer Donald Lavell Craig.
Uncontrollable grief led Merchant to relapse in 1998. But when her mother turned her back a year later, Merchant knew she had to get serious about conquering her addictions, and sought help.
“I never drank again or picked up another crack pipe after that. All because God brought me through it,” said Merchant, 55.
Today, she holds two jobs, including helping the residents at the homes who are struggling. All the while, Merchant keeps her mind on her own past.
“The only time you should look … down on someone, is when you are helping them up,” she said. “That’s what we do at JoAnna House II. We cry with these women. We pray with them. And we help them up.”
Kim Hone-McMahan can be reached at 330-996-3742 or kmcmahan@thebeaconjournal.com.