He’s unemployed. He never knows where money will come from next – yet people request it from him constantly. He doesn’t even know when, if ever, he will be able to retire. More importantly, he doesn’t really care.

In the past five and a half years, Paul W. Kruse has become one of the most highly regarded individuals in the tri-county (St. Charles, Lincoln, and Warren) area. He has put over a half-million dollars into (and out of) his bank account, and that number grows everyday. He has influenced the lives of more than 5,000 people, giving them a first step for a fresh start.

The Komerous’

A faint odor of cigarette smoke lingers in the small lobby of the Budget Inn Motel in Wentzville, Missouri. The smell can be traced to two faded, forest green sofa-chairs that sit against the far wall from the entrance, sandwiching a wooden pamphlet holder that advertises seemingly all of the attractions Missouri has to offer. The smell can also be found in the chairs’ matching sofa with the orange quilt resting atop, which sits adjacent against the glass paneled wall.

On the right side of that couch sits Paul Kruse, who carefully fills out a piece of paper. Paul, who is in his 60s, is a man of average height with a thicker build. He wears his flannel shirt tucked into his denim jeans with a belt, wrist watch and reading glasses on. He wears his graying black hair slicked back over his head and appears relaxed, content.

The man sitting to his left looks anything but.

Dave Komerous sits on the sofa in a state of shock. After all that has happened, they are finally somewhere he and his wife can safely stay, and he can’t believe it.

In a little over a week’s time, Dave and his wife Joann have had to go through the emotional roller-coaster of going from being homeowners in Edina, MO, to broken down on the side of the road, to the brink of homelessness, and to the safely of a motel.

All things considered, it was a lot to take in.

After watching Joann’s health condition deteriorate and a trip to the doctor’s office, Dave made the decision to pack up their belongings in the RV and the van, leave their house in Edina, and go to stay with Joann’s daughter in St. Charles. Everything appeared to be fine until the Komerous’ closed in on Macon, when both the van’s water pump and timing belt, and the RV’s transmission broke down. The Komerous’ were forced to stay in Macon for the night, and had to pay for the van to be fixed. With neither of the two having a job, and having already used their $1,800 monthly disability checks up, the couple rode into Wentzville with only $5 left between them. It was then that they found out Joann’s daughter was out of town, and would be for the next four days.

With no money, and no place to stay, the couple sat in a Waffle House and drank coffee as they started to make phone calls to ministries and churches in the area searching desperately for anyone to help.

Sts Joachim & Ann?
Too full.

Salvation Army?
“They wouldn’t even pick up the phone,” Joann said.

First Step Back Home?
No problem.

After their talk with Paul, Dave and Joann found themselves in the lobby of the Budget Inn with an entire week booked before they knew what hit them.

If you had asked them, they wouldn’t have noticed the smell of smoke.

This is what Paul does, what makes him feel most fulfilled in life. For the past five and a half years, Paul has been helping homeless people any way he can; whether it’s buying Walmart cards, helping to pay bills, or just giving someone a lift, helping the less fortunate has consumed Paul’s life in a way nothing else could. Which is why he founded First Step Back Home, a not-for-profit, faith-based Christian homeless ministry where he tries to change as many lives as he can, everyday that he can.

“I was only looking for a night, but he put us up for a whole week,” Dave said shaking his head.

He then lapsed into silence, deep in thought.

Paul was the first to break it.

“I’ve got back packs in my car, y’all hungry? Do you have food?”

“No we don’t,” Joann said looking up from her chair.

Paul stood up from the couch and walked out of the lobby; moments later, he returned with two bags, one book bag, and one beach bag, both filled to the brim with various canned foods and boxes.

“Oh my gosh, thank you so much,” Dave said, taking the bags from Paul.

“God bless you,” Joann said, beaming, her eyes watering.

Later, after Dave had taken the food to their room, he came to the lobby to return the bags.

“No, keep them.”

“God bless you sir.”

The Beginning

Paul Kruse isn’t Superman; however, there are times when the founder and President of the ministry is expected to be by those who he helps. Paul’s ministry is essentially the only place that homeless men in the tri-county area are able to seek help from, as there are no shelters in the vicinity that will accept men. Add all of the women and families he supports on top of that, and you get a phone rings off the hook literally all day long.

Paul says he’ll get 20 to 40 calls a day on average asking for help. If the number of calls goes over 20, Paul has to put those people on a waiting list for him to call back. The list usually stays around 50 calls long.

“I’m always running people around, I never catch up.”

His solution to all of the calls is to simply turn the phone off. Every night at 9:00, the cell phone is shut down and the home phone is unplugged until 9:00 the next morning.

“The way I figure it, 12 hours a day should be enough for the Lord,” Paul said.

It wasn’t always like this though. There was a time when Paul didn’t help any of the homeless, and was working for his own home repair and remodeling business; that was until he got involved with the truck stop ministry.

Every Saturday, Paul would go to the local truck stop and preach the word of God as an outreach Deacon to truckers and anyone else passing through who wanted to listen in the truck stop’s dining area.

It was here where Paul had some of his first interactions with the homeless. Back then, according to Paul, if Police were to find a homeless man in the county, they would drop them off at the St. Charles county line – which was right next to Highway T – which was right next to the truck stop. Soon Paul began to see new faces at his services; faces that, after the sermon, would ask him for help. At first, Paul told them to go to the Salvation Army, but when he found out that the Salvation Army turned away the men he sent there, and that those men were sleeping in the woods behind the truck stop, he decided to step in.

“I went down there and said ‘hey if I got you jobs would you work?’”

They said yes, and Paul did just that, finding jobs raking leaves and mowing grass for $6 or $7 an hour. While the jobs helped, $7 an hour wasn’t going to get them out of the woods soon; so Paul helped there too, and charged up a credit card bill in motel fees for over $1,000 in less than a month.

It was at this point, when Paul was sitting $1,000 in the hole, that his wife Lana told him he better know what he was getting himself into.

It was at this point, when Paul considered giving up the idea of helping the homeless.

It was at this point, when what Paul later described as a miracle took place.

Later that week, Paul received his miracle as a friendly neighbor made the first donation to his cause.

An unprompted, random donation for exactly $1,000.

“I knew right then, this is a sign from God that this is what I should be doing with my life,” Paul said.

That was the day First Step back Home was truly born. And from that day onward, a snowball effect ensued, with bigger and bigger miracles happening all of the time. There was the miracle when the lawyer and the accountant offered their services free of charge to make First Step Back Home a 501(c)(3) organization, making them a public charity in the eyes of the IRS and allowing them to receive tax-deductible contributions. There was the miracle when a woman called and said to Paul: ‘My husband left me, I have an empty house, put your homeless in my house.’ And now, there is the miracle in the form of more than $500,000 in donations to First Step Back Home.

“I just can’t wait for the next day, to see what miracles the Lord has in store,” Paul said.

The Future

Every day Paul Kruse gets up, he doesn’t know what is in store for him. He doesn’t know if he’ll be spending the day at a motel, or if he’ll be helping drive people back and forth to work. He might just even spend the day at home, answering the phone, listening to stories, filling out paperwork.

However, he does know that if he’s helping people, he will be happy.

“He’s always had a heart for helping people,” Lana said. “Before he even had this ministry. As I look back through the 24 years we’ve known each other, he’s always helped somebody do something along the way.”

Paul says that he’s going to keep running First Step Back Home, as long as he is financially able to do so.

“All I say is ‘Lord if you get me the money, I’ll do it for you.”

At the top of First Step Back Home’s website, there is a line that reads: Homeless, not Hopeless…

Hope is exactly what Paul Kruse is trying to provide the homeless with. Hope that whatever situation they are in, will not be the situation they remain in. Hope that they will be able to find a steady job that pays above minimum wage. Hope that someday, they will no longer need Paul, and will be able to provide for themselves once again. That hope rests with one man who, for now, rests himself until 9:00 tomorrow morning, when the phones get plugged in and turned on, and that first call comes asking for help. When it does, Paul will be there armed with his generosity, his faith in God, and his hope that he can help this person find their first step back home.

by Logan Ponche