Why I Started Sackcloth & Ashes

A Mother’s Day story of heartbreak, hope, and redemption

I gave up hope that my mom was going to be okay.

At her lowest, taken over by the beast of the bottle, I grieved her death while she was still alive. I had to. I built a protective wall just to function, just to survive the day-to-day stress of life.

Many of you know this, but some of you may not: I started Sackcloth & Ashes because of my mom.

It was 2013. I was 24 years old.

She had just gone through a string of losses, and in the aftermath, she lost her home and became dependent on substances. In what felt like a last-ditch effort to start over, she moved across the country and ended up on the streets.

That changed everything for me.

Until then, I hadn’t given much thought to homelessness. And when I did, I had the same bias a lot of people carry: if someone’s on the streets, they’re probably just lazy and don’t want to work.

But I knew my mom. She was the hardest-working person I’d ever seen. When I was a kid I’d come home from school and find her just getting off a shift waitressing, bills spread out on her bed. She busted her ass to raise my sister and me.

So when she ended up on the streets, I knew this wasn’t about work ethic. It was deeper than that. It was a battle - a spiritual war, a fight for identity, a wrestle with addiction.

I was angry and heartbroken. But I was also moved to do something. I started calling local homeless shelters to ask what they needed.

They said blankets.

So I thought, okay… I’ll start a blanket company. For every blanket I sell, I’ll donate one to a homeless shelter.

That’s how Sackcloth & Ashes began.

Over the next four years, while bootstrapping the business with no money and living in a different state, I tried everything I could to help my mom. I got her into a few rehabs, but nothing worked. She kept relapsing and spiraling and it felt like there was no way this would end well.

Then in 2018, I was doing a Blanket Drop at a women’s shelter in Portland. The team running the program asked if my mom would consider joining their 12-month recovery program. I told them what anyone with a loved one battling addiction would say: “I’ll ask her... but don’t get your hopes up.”

Still, I drove to where she was staying and invited her to check it out. I told her this might be her last shot.

To my surprise, she got in the car.

I took her to the program and she gave up her phone and committed to the process. She stopped drinking on a dime and they let her in.

Given all our past experiences, I wasn’t overly optimistic. But she stayed for 12 months and graduated the program. Then she stayed another 12 months to help out and they eventually hired her on staff.

It felt like a ghost had come back to life. For years, I had a hard time believing it was real. But it is…

For the past five years as I’ve traveled the country, sharing the Sackcloth Story on stages and at shelters, the number one question I always get asked is: “Where is your mom now?”

As I write this, my mom is flying home after doing a cruise in Croatia. She’s healthy. She’s working. She’s loving life.

I’m sharing this on Mother’s Day because I want you to know - Sackcloth & Ashes isn’t just a company. It’s rooted in my story. It’s the ripple effect of my mom’s battle and her recovery. It’s proof that even in the darkest moments, something beautiful can begin.

Before she got sober, I wasn’t sure if I believed real change was possible for people trapped in addiction. I had already grieved her. I thought I lost her for good.

But now I know, hope is real. Redemption is possible. Recovery can happen.

So if someone you love is struggling... and you're tired, heartbroken, maybe ready to give up - don’t. You never know what breakthrough is just around the corner. Hold your head up. Keep showing up. And when you can’t do anything else, pray.

And to the moms out there who are overlooked, overworked, under-celebrated… thank you. You carry more than most will ever know. You give when there’s nothing left. You love without condition. The world turns because of women like you.

Happy Mother’s Day