How One Woman’s Faith and Determination Built a Community of Hope for Those in Need
OYM was blessed to have the opportunity to interview Katherine Kouvelas-Edick, a parishioner of Holy Assumption Greek Orthodox Church in Scottsdale, Arizona. Katherine is the founder and a board member of the Aris Foundation, a volunteer-run charitable organization dedicated to helping the homeless community in Tempe, Arizona, and surrounding areas.
What started as small acts of kindness, like filling Christmas stockings and handing out meals, has grown into the Aris Foundation, a thriving ministry that serves over 200 people every Tuesday night.
Through warm meals, hygiene supplies, and—most importantly—genuine human connection, Katherine and her team are redefining what it means to support those in need. But her work goes beyond meeting basic necessities; it’s about restoring dignity, offering hope, and creating a space where people feel seen and valued.
In this conversation, Katherine shares the journey of founding the Aris Foundation, the challenges of running a grassroots ministry, and the lessons she’s learned about faith, perseverance, and the transformative power of love.
OYM: Can you start by telling us a bit about yourself and your background?
Katherine: I grew up in Arizona, and my father, who was born and raised in Greece, was instrumental in helping to build our church here which became Holy Assumption Greek Orthodox Church in Scottsdale. He and some other parishioners took on the project, secured funding, and made it happen. I’ve been part of this community ever since.
I earned a business degree and started my career in government contracting, which I’ve been in ever since. But despite having no prior experience working with homeless youth, I felt called to serve. There was an organization near my workplace, and I decided to give it a try. The moment I met these young people—who are between 18 and 25—I absolutely fell in love with them.
Many of them didn’t have a support system. They were sleeping under bridges, asking strangers for leftover food, and wearing the same worn-out clothes. I had grown up knowing that if I was ever in trouble, someone would come for me. These kids didn’t have that. I wanted to be that person for them.
At first, I started small—holding Christmas events, filling stockings, doing whatever I could to help. That eventually led to our weekly Tuesday Night Outreach, which became the foundation for the Aris Foundation. We serve about 200 people every Tuesday, providing meals, clothing, hygiene products, and—most importantly—a sense of community. We want them to want to come, not just feel like they have to come for food. That’s where real relationships are built.
OYM: Can you walk us through the process of starting the foundation?
Katherine: The biggest challenge in the beginning was funding and finding a stable location. We started at a laundromat—because everyone needs to do laundry. I’d bring McDonald's, clothing, and anything else that might get them to stop by. The next week, they’d bring their friends, saying, Hey, Katherine’s lonely—let’s go keep her company! It grew from there.
I’m a very Type A person, so I wanted everything to be perfectly planned; but I quickly learned that in this kind of work, you have to let things unfold naturally. We tried different meals—pizza, burgers, anything that would draw people in. Once they were there, we built trust. That’s how you really help people—through consistency and relationships.
A lot of people think, If I’m helping, they should want to change immediately. But it’s not that simple. Many of these young people have formed makeshift families on the streets. Someone a few years older might be their "mom" or "dad." Leaving the streets means leaving that support system, which is terrifying. It can take years for someone to be ready to transition into stable housing.
I’ve had kids who stayed on the streets for a decade before getting off. Some struggled with addiction, criminal records, and cycles of trauma. But now, they have jobs, homes, even cars. Some of them are now helping others in the same situation they were once in. It’s an incredible transformation to witness.
OYM: It sounds like homelessness is also about losing a sense of community.
Katherine: Exactly! One young woman I worked with was completely alone before she ended up on the streets. Once she got there, she finally felt a sense of belonging. Unfortunately, that environment also led her into drug use because it was everywhere. But before that, she was isolated.
I always say—I have no business being in this line of work. It’s a non-paying job I never expected to have. But I want people to remember that every homeless person you see was once a child. They were in kindergarten once, and if you had asked them then what they wanted to be when they grew up, not one of them would have said, I want to live under a bridge.
Something happened to them—whether it was childhood trauma, abuse, mental health struggles, or a lack of support. My job is to remind them that they are still worthy of love and a future.
Ministry has to come from your passion—it doesn’t have to follow someone else’s blueprint.
OYM: What has been the biggest challenge in starting or running your ministry?
Katherine: For me, it was self-doubt. I have an MBA, not a background in social work, so I often felt like I didn’t know what I was doing. Experts would tell me I was doing things wrong, and I took that to heart. But I’ve learned that ministry has to come from your passion—it doesn’t have to follow someone else’s blueprint. You learn as you go. I may not do things “by the book,” but I know what I’m doing makes a difference.
When you start a ministry—or really any kind of outreach—you have to do it with passion. It has to be something that drives you, something that feels personal. If you’re just following a model that someone else created but your heart isn’t in it, you won’t last.
I had to learn that as I went. I don’t have all the answers, and I don’t always do things by the book. But I do things the way I feel guided to do them. That’s been a challenge—trusting that even when I don’t have all my ducks in a row (which is hard for me because I like order), things are unfolding the way they’re meant to.
Another big challenge is understanding that ministry isn’t just about helping the people you set out to serve—it’s also about educating those who want to help. Half the work is bringing others into this world, showing them how to see people with dignity and compassion. People feel good when they help others. It’s just human nature.
I always tell people who ask how they can help, Well, sure, we love million-dollar checks, but those don’t come often. Instead, look around—clean out your closet. Do you have extra clothes? Old bath towels? Things you’re not using? Ninety-five percent of what we distribute comes from people realizing they already have something to give.
And it’s not just about the physical donations. It’s about teaching people, especially kids and teenagers, how to see the humanity in others. I once had a volunteer from an affluent area who noticed a man without shoes. He asked if he could give his own, and I told him to wait until the end of the night. When he finally handed them over, it was a moment that stuck with him. Sometimes, these experiences don’t fully sink in until later—when they see another homeless person and remember that connection.
I often remind young volunteers: That person over there is just a year older than you. They're surviving on the streets. Realize how blessed you are, and make good decisions. It’s a powerful revelation.
That realization—the awareness that homelessness isn’t some distant issue but something that could happen to anyone—sticks with people. It shifts their perspective. Many of the volunteers, especially the teens, leave changed. They start seeing homeless individuals as people rather than just a statistic or an inconvenience.
That’s the challenge and the purpose—helping people connect, helping them see. Because when they do, they can’t turn away.
Another challenge is navigating the logistics of running a ministry. The hardest part of serving the homeless isn’t the food or supplies—it’s finding a location. That’s always the challenge. We need insurance, permits, and city approval. We were even kicked out once before, but we found a new space, and now we make it work.
OYM: How has this experience impacted your faith?
Katherine: I always tell people—and it’s not always a popular thing to say—that I would rather you feel Jesus through my actions than hear about Him constantly through my words. I can sit and talk to you all day about the Bible, quote scripture, and preach, but what I really want is for you to remember how you felt when you were around me. That when you needed a hug, I was there to give it to you. When you were hungry, I fed you. When you didn’t have clothes, I provided them. That’s what I want people to take away.
What we do is absolutely a ministry, but we consider it open to all. I want everyone to be there. And they are—the Muslim community comes out every month from the Islamic Community Center to serve dinner. The Jewish community comes out, the Mormons, the Greek Orthodox from Assumption Church. They all come together to serve our kids. And I want them to do the work of Jesus rather than just talk about Him.
That’s why we consider ourselves non-religious in the way we operate. Many of these programs—what they call feeds, though I hate the term because it sounds like a cattle drive—require people to pray before they can eat. You end up with a crowd of hungry people who will do whatever is asked of them just to get a meal. I never want it to be that way. I want them to come to me because they want to talk about faith, not because they feel forced to. And I want to hear what they believe, too.
I don’t feel the need to convert anyone. I just want them to experience the love of Christ through all of us, in whatever way that looks for them. One of my favorite kids out there—sadly, he passed away from a fentanyl overdose 3 or 4 years ago—was a Satanist. And we would just have these conversations. I’d say, Oh, Marvin, you know I’m going to see you in heaven, you big jerk. And he’d roll his eyes and say, Whatever, Katherine. But he knew he could talk to me. He knew that even though I was Christian and he was a Satanist, there was still space for him.
That’s the heart of it. I’m not trying to criticize those who do ministry differently. I just choose to do it quietly. And I think that’s what sets us apart from a lot of the other feeds out there.
OYM: Could you walk us through a typical Tuesday—what the schedule looks like and how everything runs?
Katherine: A typical Tuesday for us starts in the parking lot of Mountain Park Health Center. We arrive around 4:00 PM and start setting up. Over the years, we’ve had complaints—once, someone called the police, saying we were running a ‘homeless carnival.’ The officer on the phone asked me, Are you having a carnival? I laughed and said, Well, we do have flavored food, cotton candy, and snow cones in the summer because it’s brutally hot in Arizona. We try to bring joy where we can.
Every week, I remember little things people love. If someone tells me they love Nerds candy, I make sure to bring it the next week. It gives them something small to look forward to, a sign that someone cares. And week after week, they keep coming back.
I give a mean hug—I really do. If someone wants a hug, I grab them and hold on tight. But what I don’t do is run a rehab or housing program. That’s not my specialty. If someone tells me on a Tuesday that they’re ready to get off the streets, I ask about their drug of choice. If it’s an opiate, they need detox first because it’s dangerous to quit cold turkey. We help them get into a program, find clothing, maybe a phone, and whatever they need to start fresh while they transition.
We try to make sure that all the resources they might need are available—detox programs, rehab centers, and connections to other services. About 30 percent of our volunteers are actually in recovery themselves. It’s one thing for me to say, ‘You can do this,’ but it means so much more when that encouragement comes from a friend—someone they’ve lived with, used drugs with, or even stolen with. When a peer says, I was just like you six months ago, and now look where I am, it makes a real impact. It’s not easy, but it’s worth it.
Beyond just helping them take the first step toward sobriety, we want to continue supporting them. They need to know they can still call us, still reach out for help. We also do small loans—our rule is that they can borrow money, but if they don’t pay it back, they can’t borrow more. It’s not about the money; it’s about trust, responsibility, and helping them move toward stability.
A lot of them are afraid of opening a bank account—they don’t understand the financial system and feel overwhelmed. So, we go with them, walk them through the process, tell them what to ignore, what to pay attention to, where to sign, and how to start building credit. We also help with apartment searches and improving financial literacy, skills they were never taught.
On the first Saturday of every month, we hold a meeting at our warehouse, where we store supplies. It’s a chance for everyone to sit down, talk, and support each other. It’s an opportunity not just to receive help but to give it—to be part of a community where they can see that they’re living the life they’re meant to live, and that we love and support them in that journey.
Show love, grace, and joy in everything you do.
OYM: What advice would you give to someone who wants to start a ministry?
Katherine: The most important thing is knowing why you're doing it—what's driving you toward this work? Listen to advice from others who have experience, but remember that this is your project, your passion. It has to be guided by your vision. If something doesn’t feel right, don’t be afraid to step back, reassess, and start again. There’s no shame in adjusting your approach.
For example, we initially focused on providing meals for people experiencing homelessness. But over time, we realized that many who came on Tuesday nights weren’t homeless but were food insecure. And to me, it doesn’t matter what your living situation is—if you’re hungry and willing to wait in line for 20 minutes for a meal, you deserve that meal. That’s the heart of ministry: serving others in the way Jesus would.
At the same time, there are practical aspects to consider. Start small. Do what you can. Show appreciation for donations, because when people give, they experience joy in that act—acknowledge that. Invite them to see your work firsthand. Find mentors. And most importantly, don’t be afraid to do things your own way.
To wrap things up, my final message would be this: Show love, grace, and joy in everything you do. Share your passion, make sure people see it and feel it, and leave them with something to carry forward. If you have a calling, then you have a responsibility to follow it. Just love people where they are—and make it happen. And whatever you do, don’t give up.
For more information on the Aris Foundation and Katherine’s work, visit https://arisfoundation.org/ for more information.