This fall, Dismas House turned a bold new page in its story with the opening of The Dismas Hub — a vibrant, multi-use space created for learning, healing, and connection. Just blocks from our main house, The Hub expands our mission beyond transitional housing, extending our impact into the broader South Bend community. It is a place where families are strengthened, recovery is supported, and a deep sense of belonging is nurtured.

Today is Giving Tuesday, and we are inviting you to engage with the work of reentry, healing, and community building in whatever way fits your budget, interests, and passion.   Below are five meaningful ways to invest in the work happening every day at Dismas House and The Dismas Hub — two spaces carrying one mission of belonging, dignity, and second chances.   1. Purchase an Item From Our Dismas Wish List:   Providing essentials like bedding, pantry items, hygiene supplies,

by Executive Director Andee Huxhold, MPP Today marks one year since I began serving as Executive Director of Dismas House of Indiana....

True proximity demands that we show up fully, that we allow our assumptions to be shattered, and that we remain open to discomfort as we move toward justice.

Embracing the reality of nonlinear growth means letting go of the myth that there is one “right” way to come home. It means meeting each person where they are and walking alongside them as they define what success looks like for themselves.

With courage emerged from the depths of her fight, Reclaiming her spirit, she stepped into light. No longer a victim, but a warrior bold, With love as her armor, her story unfolds.

The three circles exercise is a powerful tool for anyone — whether you’re in recovery from substance use disorder or other destructive behaviors, or you’re a loved one learning how to navigate that space and establish healthy boundaries.

Every July 4th, we gather to celebrate freedom — to enjoy fireworks, cookouts, and moments of connection with family and neighbors. But as Executive Director of Dismas House of Indiana, I find myself returning to a simple, difficult question: Who truly gets to share in this freedom?

I've gained a sense of belonging and significance, feeling like I am part of something truly meaningful.

For a long time, we’ve used the phrase second chances when talking about men and women returning from incarceration. It sounds compassionate. It feels good to say. But if we pause—if we really sit with those words—we see the quiet distance they can create.

At Dismas House, every story is unique — but they all carry something powerful: the courage to begin again. For Noah, that journey started not with stability, but with heartbreak.

At Dismas House, we see that journey every day. We know reentry is layered. It’s about more than employment or housing. It’s about belonging again—or for many, belonging for the first time. Our residents arrive with different pasts but a shared need: To be seen. To be known. To be treated as fully human.

Danielle remembers the exact number: 20. That was the number of menstrual pads she was issued each month while incarcerated in a local jail. Once she ran out—and she often did—there was no help, no alternative, and no dignity.

Dismas House of Indiana is proud to welcome Andrea Gordon as our new Board President! A Dismas alumna (2014-2015), Andrea is the first former resident to step into this leadership role—a testament to her dedication, leadership, and the values we uphold.

One of the biggest challenges for individuals exiting incarceration is economic survival. Without access to meaningful employment or financial independence, too many are pushed back into the same cycles that led them to prison in the first place. The reality is clear: if we want to reduce recidivism, we have to provide real economic opportunities.

For much of my life, I have chased acceptance. I sought it in the streets, among the ranks of gangs that promised brotherhood but delivered betrayal. I searched for it in relationships that weren’t safe, mistaking control for love. I looked for it in communities that saw me only through the lens of my past—my worst decisions, the streets I came from, the weight of my experiences.