One Bag.
One Chance.

I came to this country from war-torn Bosnia with one bag in my hand, a broken heart, and a family torn apart.

San Antonio

San Antonio, Texas had never seen a refugee from Bosnia before. Someone actually asked me whether Bosnia was the capital of Europe. They sent us to a language school, but the teacher taught in Spanish and couldn't explain anything to us. Eventually the school asked us to withdraw.

So nobody taught me English. I learned it anyway.

The Factory Floor

Later, in Vancouver, Washington, I took a job on a factory line at Motorola, building antennas. One day I suggested an easier way to handle part of the process.

My supervisor told me it wasn't my place to think — that if I had a brain, I wouldn't be working production.

“Now? Today?”

I walked into a college. Because I had no American diploma, the advisor told me I'd have to pass entrance exams in math and English. I asked her to bring me the test.

She was stunned. Now? Today? Yes. Now. I was that angry.

I aced both of them — including the English nobody had ever taught me.

Then came four years of it: cleaning funeral homes at night, riding the bus to class during the day. We had one car and my husband drove it to Portland for work. I graduated with a 4.0.

Nobody Would Hire Me

I had the degree and no experience, and nobody wanted to be the first. So I worked for free until I had the experience, then worked in the field and sharpened the craft, year after year.

I also spent years as a licensed Realtor in Oregon and Washington. Then the crash came, and everyone around me was losing their job.

I didn't wait to find out what would happen to us. I looked at where work was still safe, decided it was healthcare, and found the shortest honest road in: a CNA2 certification for the state of Oregon. I had a job not long after. Someone there noticed how I worked and offered me a desk as a clinic navigator. Today I work in finance for a clinic, quietly getting ready to retire.

The Lunch That Started It

One day at lunch, a friend admitted she didn't know how she would ever get out of debt. She was afraid bankruptcy was the only option left.

Everyone jokes that I'm like the CIA with numbers. So I told her: bring me everything. Not your Social Security number, not your account numbers, not your card numbers — I'm not the IRS. Just the real picture.

We found a way. $78,000, paid off in 20 months.

Then another friend asked. Then another.

And my husband said something I couldn't argue with: you have always wanted to give something back to this country and this community. Here is your chance.

Why It's Free

I've been hungry. I've been broke. I've been homeless. And nobody ever offered me anything in this life.

That is exactly why I'm not going to charge a person who is already drowning. There are people out there charging $2,000 and more for this kind of help — charging the most to the people in the worst shape. I will never be one of them.

The spreadsheet is free. The app is free. It stays that way.