Noel never imagined the journey his life would take — from standing in a courtroom as a troubled teenager, to serving our country in the United States Marine Corps, to walking through the doors of a shelter, broken but ready for change.

He still remembers the moment his life approached a fork in the road — while standing before a judge. “I was given the choice of going to the Marines, or going to prison for a really long time, and I chose the Marines.”

The Marines gave Noel purpose and discipline. He found love, got married, and built a family. On the surface, things looked stable. But beneath that surface, stress and sacrifice were beginning to wear on everything he held dear.

Noel was deployed to Afghanistan, where the horrors of war left deep scars. The constant cycle of meeting and then losing new recruits — new friends — to the battlefield took a toll on how he connected with others.

“If I had a friend, I would lose them,” he says. “It got to the point where I stopped trusting people, stopped talking to people, stopped wanting to be friends. I changed from, I’d say, a loving person to a very cold-hearted person.”

Then came a decision that shattered him inside: choose to shoot an armed Afghan child or show mercy. He chose the latter, taking a bullet in the leg — a bullet that ended his career.

Back home, Noel tried to heal from his visible and invisible wounds. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder consumed him. The weight of trauma drove him deep into addiction.

“I was drinking a lot to stop the nightmares, stop feeling,” Noel says. “I had a lot of pride. I didn’t want to let anyone in. I didn’t want to admit I needed help.”

And, after 17 years of marriage, tragedy struck. The death of a child devastated the family. Grief, compounded by the mental and emotional toll of multiple deployments, fractured his relationship with his wife. Noel’s marriage collapsed under the weight.

Alcohol turned into drugs. Drugs turned into survival. He burned through his life savings trying to outrun all of the pain.

Eventually, Noel found himself in a nearly empty house, surrounded by strangers who came over only to party and do drugs. Concerned for his well-being, his family held an intervention and helped him manage his remaining funds as he searched for a recovery program. His search led him to the doors of the Milwaukee Rescue Mission.

“All right,” he said. “I’m going to give God a chance because I never did before.”

That one moment of surrender changed everything.

At MRM, Noel found more than just shelter. He found grace. He found people who didn’t judge him for his past, but helped him start imagining a future.

“This place is amazing,” Noel says. “I don’t know where I’d be because I’d probably be dead. This place has been so good. You all gave me clothes when I had nothing.”

But it wasn’t just material needs being met. Noel found the spiritual foundation he never had. Through classes, mentorship, community and support, he began the slow work of healing. He learned to let go of pride and lean on the strength of others and on God.

“I can’t do this by myself,” he now admits — something the old Noel never would have said. With time, structure, and support, Noel began to open his heart again. He let people in. He started to dream again. “I’m freer now,” he says. “I need people. I need responsibility. I need structure.”

Today, Noel is still working through the pain. Healing is a journey, but it’s one he no longer walks alone. “I don’t want people to feel sorry for me about the stuff I’ve been through,” he says. “I just want them to know that it’s never too late to start over.”

And to the people who make this place possible, Noel wants you to know just how much it matters:

“To the donors — without you, I wouldn’t have a future. Now I have purpose. I have goals that I never had before. I might’ve been dead if it wasn’t for the donations and me being able to just walk in off the streets.”