From Grief to Purpose: The origins of Do Good Today

Devin Attebery

By Teresa Attebery Betzer

I have been trying to write this blog for over a month now, and honestly, I keep getting stuck. Not because there isn't anything to say but because there is so much. It is hard to sum up what happens when a family loses someone they love and decides, maybe out of desperation, maybe out of hope, to do something with all that pain.

Seven years ago, my parents lost their youngest child and only son to cancer. My brother. And for a while, grief just sat in the middle of our family like a piece of awkward furniture nobody knew what to do with. My parents were in their seventies. They had every right to just be sad and withdraw - and they did for a while. But that couldn't last. It is just not who they are.

So, my mom started buying blankets, clothing, hygiene items, and non-perishable food and they loaded up their SUV and drove out to find people who needed help. At first, it was just them. Then my sisters started going along. Then friends heard about it and wanted to come. Then strangers started showing up.

Nobody had a title. Nobody had a board seat. We just had a truck (well, an SUV) and a whole lot of love with nowhere else to go.

Over time, what started as a desperate coping mechanism grew into something we never expected. We now have three programs, but really, they are just three different ways of doing the same thing: showing up for our neighbors because, well, they ARE our neighbors.

That is how Do Good Today was born. Not in a boardroom or a law office. It started in a driveway, on a Tuesday, with a trunk full of donated coats.

Three Ways DGT Shows Up

The first is Outreach.

Sunday Outreach

Every other week, we pack up our vehicles with clothes, hygiene kits, water bottles, and snacks, and we unpack it all and the people come. Not everyone wants to chat and that is okay. We don't force. We don't preach. We don't judge. We just bring what we have and try to be kind.

I have learned that a clean pair of socks can matter more than almost anything. I have learned that remembering someone's name can make them feel seen in a way that nothing else can. Many of the people we meet at outreach become regulars. We get to know them. We worry about them when we do not see them for a while. And they know we will be back in two weeks.

One of my favorite things about outreach is watching people see my dad. Some of the folks we serve have been coming to us for years, and when they see him, they do not just say hello. They give him a hug. A real one. The kind where you can tell they have been waiting for him. It is hard to describe what that feels like as his daughter, watching people who have so little wrap their arms around my father like he is family. Because I guess to them, he is.

Craig and Jo came to help when we were still working out of just our garage. They’ve been with us since the beginning, and I honestly do not know what we would do without them.

Jo and Craig's Garage

They are the ones who collect all the clothing donations. They sort everything by season, by size, by gender, and pack it into bags so that when we show up for outreach, we can actually find what someone needs. They store all of it at their house year round, which is a bigger commitment than most people realize. Every other week, they load up their truck with those carefully sorted bags, haul everything to the park, and then after outreach is over, they pack it all back up and take it home to start the process all over again.

It is exhausting just to type that sentence. They do it every single time without complaint.

After each outreach, Jo wanders around the site to make sure nothing gets left behind. Not because she is being picky, because she knows that if the city finds trash or items scattered around, they might not let us come back. She is protecting our ability to keep showing up, one piece of litter at a time.

Jo cleaning up

But here is what Jo loves most. She loves being able to hand someone a new pair of socks. Or new underwear. Or a brand new jacket. Not used. New.

Because everyone deserves something new. Especially people who have gone so long without.

Craig and Jo do not do this for recognition. They do it because they believe that our unsheltered neighbors matter. And every time I watch Jo pull out a fresh jacket from one of her bags, I believe it too.

Since 2021, we have made over 5,000 connections through our outreach. That number sounds big, but really it is just a whole lot of small moments. One conversation at a time. One granola bar at a time. One hug at a time.

The second is Welcome Home.

Here is something a lot of people do not realize. When someone finally gets approved for housing after being homeless, they often walk into an apartment that is completely empty. No bed. No table. No plates. Just walls and a floor. A key opens the door, but it does not make a home.

One of those people was Randy.

Welcome Home List

Randy had been homeless for twenty-six years. Twenty-six years of sleeping wherever he could find a spot. Twenty-six years of not having a place to call his own.

Anna Davidson - who is an angel here on earth but whose day job is the Homeless Services Advocate for the Ogden City Police Department was the driving force behind Randy finally getting housing. And she knew he had absolutely nothing to put inside it.

So she reached out to us and asked if we could help.

We did not know if we could do it. Randy was our first. We had never furnished an entire apartment for someone before. But we put the word out on Facebook, and something amazing happened. People showed up. Donations poured in. Complete strangers wanted to help a man they had never met turn an empty apartment into a home. That was January, 2022. That year, my dad and my sister Mindy furnished 136 homes, just the two of them with a borrowed truck.

Randy was client number one of our Welcome Home program.

This week, we served client number 876.

876 homes is equivalent to a town of about 2,200 people, roughly the size of Huntsville.

It is one home every other day.

So here is what we do now. We collect gently used furniture and household items from people in this generous community. Then we deliver them to families who are starting over. A bed for a first grader who has never had their own. A table where a family can share their first meal in a home together. A couch where someone can

finally rest without sleeping on the ground.

These things are not luxuries. They are the foundation of a stable life. And if you have ever watched someone cry over a coffee maker - a real, actual, tearful thank you for something as simple as a coffee maker - then you understand something about dignity that is hard to explain any other way.

We have furnished over 870 homes since we started. That is 870 individuals and families who did not have to sleep on floors.

And it all started with Randy, a Facebook post, and a community that refused to let him be alone in his new apartment.

The Third is Empower Us.

This one is maybe my favorite, because it turns everything upside down.

We pay people who are still experiencing homelessness to help us with pickups and deliveries. They earn money. They build a work history. They get to be part of a team that is helping their own neighbors.

I know that sometimes people assume that if you are homeless, you must not want to work. Let me tell you something. That is not true. Most of the people we work with want to work very badly. And many of them do work, often more than one job, but they still cannot afford housing. The math just does not work anymore, and that is not their fault.

Gary and the Empower Us crew

For those who are unemployed, they often just need someone to give them a chance. A paycheck does something for a person's spirit that a handout never can. It says, "You matter. You are capable. We need you."

While they wait for their own housing, they get to help a community that is so grateful to them. And let me tell you, they work HARD. Moving furniture all day is not for the faint of heart. Loading couches into trucks, carrying dressers up stairs, hauling box springs through narrow doorways - it is exhausting, physical work and our crew shows up every single day and does it with pride.

So do not bother trying to convince us that people who do not have a home choose that lifestyle. Do not tell us they are lazy. Our crew works harder than any executive I have ever met. They come to work sore and tired and still manage to smile as they roll the dolly out of a newly furnished home.

That is what Empower Us is about. Not charity. Dignity.

The Community That Carries Us

One of the things I have learned through all of this is that our community loves my dad almost as much as we do.

Sometimes I will be scrolling through Facebook and I will see someone ask where they can donate furniture or clothes. And without fail, someone in the comments will say, "Donate to Do Good Today. Gary is a wonderful person. He will make sure it goes to someone who really needs it."

Strangers talk about my father like they have known him their whole lives. They show up to drop off donations and end up staying to chat. They share our posts. They raise money for us on their birthdays. They send us messages asking how they can help. They love him, and he loves them right back. It is so heartwarming to see.

But here is the thing about my dad that people might not know.

He is eighty-one years old. And somehow, he has lived longer than any Attebery in the last five generations of his ancestry line. We truly believe that his longevity is because of this work. That showing up for other people, day after day, is what keeps him going.

Every Monday through Saturday, he takes the Empower Us crew out to pick up donations and deliver furniture to families who are moving into their homes. He helps load trucks. He drives. He does more physical labor than he probably should. He comes home every single day completely exhausted and once he comes home, he begins taking calls and setting up deliveries for waiting families. All told he probably works 10 hrs 5-6 days a week. But he loves what he does with a passion that I cannot fully put into words.

None of this has been easy. Sometimes we run on fumes and leftover pizza. We are always worrying about how to keep this going financially. There are nights when we wonder if we are making much of a difference at all.

And then someone hugs my dad at outreach. Or a stranger writes something kind on Facebook. Or we get a message from a family who finally has a bed to sleep on. And we remember why we keep going.

And then there are Kent and Tami.

Everyone has the family they were born into but many of us have family that joined us along the way. Kent and Tami have been Do Good Today's ride-or-die for several years now. They coordinate our furniture donations. They clean out storage sheds.

They let community members drop furniture off at their house. They take the items we cannot use to our partners like Road to Independence, the Ogden Rescue Mission, and other community organizations. They do the lion's share of the work to organize our monthly yard sales. They have worked tirelessly for years, without receiving a single dollar in compensation, simply because they believe in this effort.

I do not know what we would do without them.

Here is what I keep coming back to. We are not doing this alone. We never have been. It takes a village to furnish a home, to run an outreach, to fundraise, to be able to pay a stipend to someone who is working their way into housing. And somehow, we have found the most incredible village.

This Year Almost Broke Us

I have to be honest about something. This past year has been really hard.

A few years ago, we entered into a partnership with a local business to help sustain the organization. At the time, it seemed like a good idea. My parents are in their eighties, and they desperately wanted to make sure Do Good Today would continue long after they could no longer lead it themselves. We thought this partnership might be the way.

But over time, things started to shift. Decisions were being made without the full board's knowledge. The mission we had built together started to feel like it was drifting. The work we once loved became stressful. We found ourselves dreading board meetings. What had started with such hope had become something very different.

We agonized over what to do. My parents had poured their hearts into this organization, and the thought of watching it slip away was devastating. We truly felt that the legacy they had worked so hard to build was in real danger. Eventually, we realized we had to step up and reclaim the organization.

That decision came with a cost. For weeks, we could not serve anyone. Thirteen families who had been promised furniture were left in limbo. And we couldn't even reach out to them because we had no way to contact them and no way to deliver even if we could.

I do not mind telling you that there were days when I wondered if we had made a huge mistake. Were we going to make it? Had we just destroyed something my parents had spent years building?

And then something amazing happened.

A kind detective from Pleasant View Police Department stepped in to help us navigate the situation. The community stepped up. People donated money. Friends and strangers alike shared our story and opened their wallets. One very special foundation stepped up in a big way.

We raised enough to buy a box truck.

We were back on the road.

We are still playing catch-up, and the need has not gone away. But we know we made the right decision. Do Good Today is back in the hands of the people who started it, my parents, my sisters, an amazing board of directors, and the incredible volunteers who have been with us from the beginning. And that feels like coming home.

What We Need Right Now

We are a small operation. Everyone who works with Do Good Today is a volunteer. Most of us are retirees. Nobody gets paid. We run everything out of our homes and a collection of storage units, 16 of them actually, which is as ridiculous and complicated as it sounds.

We always need furnishings, household items, clothing, and hygiene items. But mostly, we desperately need funding to keep this afloat. We are applying for grants and are working on getting an audit so we can apply for federal and state grants.

Every dollar we collect goes straight to the mission. We do not have fancy offices or paid staff. I’m writing this from my recliner. The donations we collect buys sheets, toasters, underwear, and pays stipends to people who are working their way out of homelessness.

We also really need warehouse space. Sixteen storage units and garages are not a long-term solution.

Why We Keep Going

My brother died seven years ago. I still miss him every single day.

But when I hear of a child climbing into a bed that was not there yesterday, or when one of our crew members cashes their first paycheck, or when someone we have been visiting at outreach for months finally lets us call them by their first name, I feel like he is still here.

And when I watch my dad get hugged by someone who has nothing but gratitude, or when I read a Facebook comment from a stranger calling him a wonderful person, I know that this work is about so much more than furniture and clothes. It is about love. It is about showing up for each other. It is about grief that decided to be useful instead of sitting still.

We cannot do any of this alone. We never could. This has always been a community effort, and we are so grateful for every single person who has donated, volunteered, shared our posts, or just said a kind word.

If you want to help, please reach out.

Visit our website at https://dogoodtodayutah.org.

Email us at info@dogoodtodayutah.org.

Call us at (801) 458-2752.

We will find a way for you to pitch in.

Thank you for being part of this with us. Together, we are turning grief into purpose, one home at a time.

Attebery Kids