Before 2021, life felt steady. Juan had a job, his own apartment, and the kind of independence many people work years to build. Most of all, he had his health. “I had a life,” he says simply. “I had what one could say, maybe a comfortable life.” He worked hard, traveled often, and spent years learning about different cultures—especially through food. He remembers kitchens filled with the smells of spices and simmering meals, places where cooking large quantities meant serving others well.
Then everything changed.
A cardiac event and stroke altered his body in ways he never expected. The loss of full movement in his hands and the frustration of daily limitations became part of his new reality. “The stroke was the one that affected me the most,” Juan explains. Doctors and therapists worked with him for years, but eventually told him they had done what they could. The rest, they said, would depend on him. That shift—from independence to patience, from certainty to endurance—was one of the hardest parts.
Loneliness also crept in. After losing his wife years earlier, life had narrowed to work and home, home and work. Juan had always been self-contained, rarely sharing his life with others. “It wasn’t selfishness,” he says. “I just didn’t feel that I had to share it.”
When he arrived at Water Street, that pattern was challenged. At first, Juan stayed quiet. He noticed how easily people are judged before they are known—something he recognized in himself, too. But slowly, conversations began. Familiar rhythms returned as he helped in the Outreach Center, especially in the kitchen. Preparing food again—hearing trays slide across counters, feeling useful—restored something deeper than strength.
Serving others became a refuge. “It made me feel alive,” he says. “It helped me feel useful.” What surprised him most was how giving—without expecting anything back— brought healing of its own. Being part of a community helped him see himself differently, and helped him open up to others in ways he hadn’t before. “Now I want to be part of something,” he says. “I’m trying to integrate myself into the family of what I stand for.”
“In the end, we live in a community,” he says. “Helping each other is the only thing that really helps.”
– Juan, WSM Guest
Today, his focus is on continuing physical therapy, attending medical appointments, and doing everything he can to regain as much strength as possible. “I’m trying to move forward,” he says. Juan knows life may not return to what it once was—but he’s learning to value what is, rather than what used to be.
He hopes to keep serving where he can, to remain connected to community, and to live with greater patience. And he offers a gentle invitation to others: to pause before judging, to take time to understand, and to recognize the humanity in every person.
To those reading this story, Juan wants to say thank you—for caring, for giving, and for making a place like Water Street possible. “In the end, we live in a community,” he says. “Helping each other is the only thing that really helps.”
