Nonprofits of the year do much of society’s heavy lifting

Columnist Teri Sforza writes that California's legislators honor charities in their districts.

There are happy endings. We need to know that now, perhaps more than ever.

Lauren Justice was addicted to meth, in and out of jail, homeless for years. She was crushed when she lost custody of her only son. When she became pregnant with her second child in 2016, she made a steely-eyed decision: She would not choose drugs over being their mom.

There were a million hoops to jump through, a million tests to pass, a million people to prove herself to — including herself. But with help from the Santa Ana Police Department’s homeless liaison officer and Colette’s Children’s Home and so many others, Justice was able to keep her daughter, get into her first apartment, get a job — and finally be a mom. She went on to do homeless outreach with CityNet, and now runs the Mariposa Center of Orange County’s Enhancement Care Management Team program.

“I get to go out to the community I came from and give people hope,” she said.

Mariposa was chosen as one of California’s Nonprofits of the Year. Nonprofits do much of the heavy lifting for government, wrestling with intractable social problems like homelessness and addiction with oft-unpredictable public funding. They labor in plain sight but are oft overlooked, and that’s why state legislators began the annual exercise of honoring nonprofits from their districts in 2016.

Mariposa was chosen by Sen. Tom Umberg, D-Santa Ana. It has served Orange County since 1977 with everything from substance abuse and domestic violence counseling to individual and group sessions, operating in the black with revenues of $2.4 million and expenses of $2.3 million last year, according to tax returns. Staffers believe there’s a path to a brighter and better future for folks who are struggling, and that their mission is to help pave the way.

“The pandemic, more than anything, served to highlight the work that nonprofits do for our community. The services and resources provided by the Mariposa Center and other nonprofit organizations are awe-inspiring,” Umberg said in a prepared statement. “As we work to recover from the mental and emotional impacts of the pandemic and deal with California’s opioid and fentanyl crises, the Mariposa Center is and has been a pivotal resource to Orange County families.”

Powerhouse

The nonprofit sector is the fourth-largest industry in California, employing more than 1.2 million people (that’s about one of every 14 jobs), generating more than $273 billion in revenue and holding some $437 billion in assets, according to research from the Nonprofit Institute at the University of San Diego and the California Association of Nonprofits. 

“California’s governments rely on nonprofits to provide healthcare and community services, to build housing, to operate state parks, to care for children, to fight contagious disease, manage foster care, protect natural resources and more,” said its report, “Causes Count.”

“Providing services through nonprofits is not a marginal activity for state and localgovernments, but rather a core strategy. For example, an estimated 32% of California’s$127 billion Medi-Cal budget pays for services delivered by nonprofits. In turn, working with government is a central strategy for many nonprofits, especially those in human services and health.”

There are about 100,000 charity organizations with tax-exempt status from the IRS in California. The nonprofit sector continues to mirror substantial disparities between north and south, rural and metropolitan, communities that are predominantly White and those that are predominantly people of color. Those disparities are growing wider, it found.

“The San Francisco Bay area stands out from other regions in California, with notably more services, government funding, foundation funding, assets, revenues and nonprofit revenue per capita than other regions,” the study found.

Still, onward they go. Legislators named more than 100 nonprofits this year, from YMCAs and Boys and Girls Clubs to senior centers, food banks, homeless shelters, housing trusts, environmental stewards and arts organizations. If you’re planning your charitable giving for 2024 and want to give locally, the list here is a good place to start.

Remember the eternal wise giving caveats: Take a few minutes to do some online sleuthing. CharityWatch, Charity Navigator, Guidestar, ProPublica’s Nonprofit Explorer and others can show you how much a charity spends on its mission (some of the worst give just pennies on the dollar to whoever they claim to help), how much it pays to raise money and how much it pays its bigwigs.

Using Mariposa as an example, see page 10 of its 990 tax filing, which breaks down spending on programs (the core mission), management/general expenses and fundraising. An admirable $2 million of the almost $2.3 million spent went to its core mission — about 87%. About 11% paid for management and general expenses, with less than 1% on fundraising. Nicely done, CEO Krista Driver.

Making a difference

So there’s Justice and the staff, in courtrooms, in encampments, building trust, helping people take the next step and rebuild their lives.

She worries a bit about the housing-first approach to homelessness —– shelter is of course essential, but putting someone who’s still sick in an apartment and isolating them can spell trouble. So she and her team help manage doctor’s appointments. Health insurance. Food. Clothing. Shelter. Addiction treatment. Sober living. And employment — even with the challenges posed by a criminal record.

“We are with them from ground zero, every step of the way,” Justice said. “Therapists come with us to encampments, to shelters. Even if people aren’t ready yet — one day they might be.”

Last week, Justice had the joy of helping a mom and her son make the great leap — moving into an apartment in Anaheim. Keys to the front door lock. Furniture! She does the work in the memory of her dad, Larry Justice, who died two years ago. He’d be proud.

For the Calleros family, there will be a period of adjustment. Justice knows it can be rough. But she also knows there’s a blindingly bright light at the end of the tunnel.

Justice has four kids now. Her oldest son, 9, was adopted by her sister’s close friend and she sees him often. She’s raising two daughters, 7 and 9, as well as a son, 2. Her program shows others that it can be done. That there are, indeed, happy endings.