09:33 AM EST on Wednesday, December 14, 2005

BY JENNIFER LEVITZ
Journal Staff Writer

PROVIDENCE -- It's not the most wonderful time of the year if you're cold and homeless.

Journal photo / Gretchen Ertl

Celeste Arnold, 24, originally from Tiverton, plays with her 4-year-old son, Anthony, at a family shelter on Broad Street, Providence, yesterday. ''I want to get out,'' says Arnold, who is determined to find an affordable apartment.

"My God, how did I get myself in this?" said Irene Wehweh, 38, wiping tears that slid down her cheeks. It was midafternoon yesterday and she sought warmth at Crossroads Rhode Island, a Providence homeless drop-in center, after another day of filling out job applications.

And a few blocks away, up Broad Street, in a former funeral home that serves as a shelter for nine families, Celeste Arnold, 24, recently took a break from calling rental ads to craft a wreath out of a coat hanger.

Arnold, who says she left a troubled relationship, had decorated "Room #5," her and her son's room, for the holidays. The rest of the shelter, which is run by Crossroads, was strung with glitter and Christmas lights, to offer a semblance of home.

"This is one of the toughest times of the year for them," said Sandra Robinson, a staff member who sings to residents in her choir voice.

While the holidays inspire many people to focus on home and hearth, the season, for others, only emphasizes the frustrating pursuit of both.

And that seems particularly true when winter's cutting cold arrives unusually early, as it did yesterday, with temperatures dipping into the teens.

Anne Nolan, the executive director of Crossoads, said every family shelter and night-to-night shelter in the area is full each night, and even Harrington Hall, the state's overflow shelter, in Cranston, is over capacity. Some homeless people are lining up long before shelter doors open at 4:30 p.m.

Since night-to-night shelters typically ask people to leave early in the morning, the homeless, as many as 200, return to Crossroads, one of the few places where one can stay indoors during the day. Yesterday, the community room's floor was piled with puffy coats and bags of belongings, and the chairs were filled with people trying to organize their lives or just the next few hours until the bus to the shelter would come.

With the sudden dip in temperatures, the agency was "mobbed," she said. "People don't have anywhere to go."

Nolan blames it on housing prices and other rising costs, including utilities. "Two parents working minimum-wage jobs can't afford an apartment, let alone all the things you need," she said.

Journal photo / Gretchen Ertl

Irene Wehweh, 38, spends time at Crossroads Rhode Island, a Providence homeless drop-in center, while she looks for a job.

Wehweh said she was just in from job hunting in the cold. Her cheeks were flushed and she was still bundled in her bright pink cap and scarf, which matched her pink nails. Wehweh said her life fell apart only recently when she lost one of her two part-time jobs, in retail, because the business went under.

"I'm not interested in being in a shelter," she said, crying. "I don't like to be in a shelter."

Up Broad Street, in the family shelter run by Crossroads, Arnold smacked her folder of housing applications on the floor.

"I want to get out," she said, showing all the places she'd called for affordable housing. The ones that hadn't worked out had been crossed out in orange pen. Holding a stack of mail, she said so far she's received 10 responses -- each saying there's no space now -- from 70 applications.

Arnold and her son moved to the shelter three weeks ago. Arnold is already known among the staff for being driven and orderly. She is so neat she folds her dirty laundry. She accompanies her son on the bus each morning to his school and then returns to make calls until it's time to take the bus to pick him up. With help from the shelter, she's saving half her welfare check for first and last month of rent, plus a security deposit. Once she finds an apartment, she said, she will find a job and school in walking distance, since she has no car.

She was excited, saying she was told yesterday she was at the top of a list at one subsidized housing complex. "They can see my ambition," she said. "They can see I'm not just out for a free ride. I'm not gonna just live off the state; I want to be somebody and be able to say, 'Hey, I did it.' "

Anthony, her 4-year-old son, whom she calls "baby," spun around in an office chair.

"I want him to be able to say, 'Mommy wasn't lying when she said we were going to get out of this, get up, and get our own.' "

Having shelter takes weight off her, she said. Coldwell Banker, for one, held a Christmas party for the shelter and bought Anthony a play keyboard, the top item on his wish list. As she talked about living at the shelter, she cried. A staff member stroked Arnold's long brown hair.

"I really hate to depend on people," Arnold said. "But I wonder, if I didn't have them, where would my baby be?"