Open Arms Outreach Augusta

10/18/2026

We do recover!

10/03/2026

So grateful that we were able to support our friends at Any Length Recovery, Inc.!

Thank you, Open Arms Outreach!!

10/01/2026

We love these ladies and are so proud to partner with them to make our community STRONGER TOGETHER!

🎉 Two Years of Stronger Together! 💜

September marked 2 years since Stronger Together officially became a 501(c)(3) nonprofit! 🥹💜

Two years.

Two years of showing up.

Two years of opening our doors.

Two years of watching women rebuild their lives.

Two years of hard work, answered prayers, unexpected blessings, and a whole lot of faith.

When we became an official nonprofit, we had a vision for what Stronger Together could become. What we didn't know was just how many women, families, volunteers, donors, supporters, and community members would become part of that vision along the way.

We've grown. We've learned. We've faced challenges. We've celebrated victories. And we're still building.

Today, Stronger Together is more than a nonprofit. It's a community. It's a place where women can begin again, find their people, learn the tools they need to move forward, and discover that recovery can be about so much more than simply staying sober.

And we're just getting started. 💜

To every woman who has trusted us with her journey, every person who has donated, volunteered, prayed, shared a post, sent encouragement, or simply believed in what we're doing—
THANK YOU.

You are part of this story.

Here's to two years as a 501(c)(3)… and to everything still ahead. 💜

Recovery. Faith. Unity.

Stronger Together. 💜

10/01/2026

Happy October! Thank you to everyone who sent their stories in to be highlighted for September. Let's finish strong! Everyone drop your recovery date and name one thing you would share with someone newly entering recovery!

09/30/2026

Recovery Month Spotlight | Christy ✨

As we close out National Recovery Month, we wanted our final spotlight to remind us of something we’ve seen woven through so many of the stories shared this month:

We need each other.

Sometimes recovery begins because someone sees hope for us before we can see it for ourselves. Sometimes it looks like a family member driving us to a meeting. Sometimes it’s hearing someone tell a story that sounds just like ours. And sometimes it’s two people who barely know us choosing to spend their Thanksgiving sitting beside us in an emergency room.

For Christy P. Schexnayder, that kind of love helped change everything.

“My recovery date is November 28, 2013.

While everyone was preparing to spend Thanksgiving with their families, two people I had only met a couple of months earlier at a 12-Step meeting were sitting with me in the ER, telling me what I needed to say to get the help I desperately needed.

It was that selfless love from people who barely even knew me that drew me in and made me want to change. I had experienced that kind of love from my family, but never from complete strangers.

I was 32, living at my mom’s house without a driver’s license due to alcohol and drug use. I wanted to recover, but I didn’t even know that was possible.

My mom started taking me to 12-Step meetings, where I heard stories of people who were just like me—and now they were free.

That gave me some hope that maybe I could be free too.

I told them I would do whatever they suggested if they would help me—and they did exactly that.

I will forever be grateful for the people who showed me a new way of living.

The only way I can repay them is by continuing to live a life of integrity, kindness, and love.

Happy Recovery Month!”

What a beautiful way to end a month dedicated to celebrating recovery.

Christy didn’t know recovery was possible until she met people who showed her that it was.

That is why we tell our stories.

Throughout September, you’ve met people with different stories, different backgrounds, different consequences, different pathways, and different lengths of time in recovery. Some have decades. Some are still counting their first months.

But every single story has carried the same message:

Recovery is possible.

And sometimes the person who needs to hear that message hasn’t walked through the door yet.

Christy, thank you for sharing your story and for continuing to repay what was freely given to you through integrity, kindness, love, and service to others.

And to every person who allowed Open Arms Outreach to share a piece of their story this month: thank you. Your vulnerability may have given someone you will never meet the first little bit of hope they needed to believe their own story could change.

National Recovery Month may end today.

Our work doesn’t. Our recovery doesn’t. And neither does hope. ❤️

09/29/2026

PLEASE SHARE || OCTOBER VIRTUAL TRAININGS

Thurs Oct 8th | 10AM
https://us06web.zoom.us/meeting/register/YcHr9dIESWWn7EW_jxaYSQ

Thurs Oct 22nd | 3PM
https://us06web.zoom.us/meeting/register/CMwJ4Q5LR3KV8oyONGV6gg

Tues Oct 27th | 2PM
https://us06web.zoom.us/j/84062016065?pwd=BL4VsA6IFS65cwnAX2FwtwolnNR4pN.1

09/29/2026

Recovery Month Spotlight | Jessica ✨

Recovery is built one day at a time, and sometimes one of the greatest gifts is realizing we don’t have to have tomorrow figured out to be grateful for today.

Earlier this month, at 148 days sober, Jessica Elizabeth Tallent shared what recovery is beginning to look like in her life:

“148 days.

Taking one day at a time and being present is such an amazing gift. I can be grateful for so much today and truly feel it and live it.

Today, I am not living in fear or worry for my future. I have grace to give not only myself, but other alcoholics.

Today, my willingness shines like the brightest star in the sky.

Knowing my Higher Power, which is God, allows me to faithfully give everything to Him—to not live a life based on self-will.

Giving service and an abundance of love and light through Him each day continues to set me up for all the promises this program has to offer me.

Every day is a new day to learn and listen, for I am not at my best without God being my first and foremost blessing every morning.”

There is something really beautiful about hearing from someone in the early days of recovery while the transformation is happening.

We often celebrate the 5-, 10-, and 20-year stories, and we absolutely should. But those years are built from days exactly like the ones Jessica is living right now.

One morning waking up sober.

One day choosing willingness instead of self-will.

One opportunity to be of service.

One moment of choosing faith instead of fear.

And then doing it again tomorrow.

When Jessica wrote these words on September 9, she had 148 days. Today, she has continued putting those days together, one at a time.

Jessica, keep going. Keep learning. Keep listening. Keep serving. Keep putting God first. You don’t have to know what the rest of your recovery story looks like yet.

Just keep writing it one day at a time. ❤️

09/28/2026

Recovery Month Spotlight | Ashley ✨

What if God gave you the pen at the very beginning of recovery and told you to write down the life you wanted?

Ashley Ivey says she would have sold herself short.

Six years ago, she couldn’t have imagined the life she has today. Her story had become one of addiction, arrests, broken relationships, losing custody of her son, and a family who never knew whether their next call would come from a hospital or a jail.

But that wasn’t the end of her story.

“My sober date is September 5, 2020. I had no idea when I got arrested for the last time that every year sober for me would be a reminder of the victory that is recovery for an entire community.

But God did.

If the Lord would have given me the pen and told me to create my future 6 years ago, I would have sold myself short. The life I have today I was never brave enough to even dream about.

I used to search for attention and affection from anyone who would give it. I ran from accountability and blamed everyone else, including God, for the way my life turned out. And if somebody would listen to my crap, I’d make a best friend out of them.

By the end of my addiction, I’d do whatever drug was in your pocket. I was hopeless, lost, and all but totally destroyed.

September 4th, I totaled my car on the way home from the gas station. I was pumping gas naked when the mayor told me to go home. I refused, and he called the cops. I left a trail of destruction behind me as I laid strapped down to a hospital bed.

My last 24 hours in addiction only told part of the story.

It didn’t show the failed marriage nine months earlier. Losing my kid to DFACS and every bit of restraint I had left. It didn’t show the multiple DUIs and stays at the County Inn. The traumatic death of a father after a lifelong relationship that bred codependency and fostered alcoholism. The loss of a stepparent leading to being prescribed medications that kicked off the hardcore progression in my addiction cycle.

It didn’t show the family homes I was no longer welcome in. The broken relationships, loss of trust, and sleepless nights my family endured watching me slowly destroy myself.

It was a regular occurrence for my respiratory therapist sister to check hospitals and my probation officer sister to check jails when they hadn’t heard from me.

I was oblivious to the damage I was doing to myself, let alone anyone else.

It wasn’t until I got sober that I had to face it all.

I was really a wounded 6-year-old girl trying to find love, acceptance, and approval in a world that was shaped to swallow me up and spit me out.

I settled over and over again.

I settled for lust when I couldn’t find love.

I settled for escape when I couldn’t cope.

I settled for numb when I couldn’t identify.

I settled for conforming when I didn’t fit.

I chose hatred to combat hatred. Added insult to injury. If you were mad, I was furious. If you wanted to argue, I was ready to go to war.

Hurt people really do hurt people.

I was past devastated… I was desperate.

I was desperate to feel worth getting sober for.

Was I worth it, or was everyone better off without me? After all, I spit in the face of everyone who ever loved me.

In my desperation, Jesus met me.

He said I was worthy of more than sobriety.

I was worth His life.

I began to seek Him and slowly watched the promises He gave me come true.

Today, I get to be a mama to my awesome 10-year-old son. Full custody was restored and my DFACS case fully closed in March 2022.

I am the proud wife of an amazing man who loves Jesus, me, and my kid. My husband, Justin, was able to adopt my son. My husband is also in recovery and has 6½ years sober.

A judge signed the adoption papers on my three years sober in the SAME courtroom where Justin received a prison sentence many years earlier.

We bought a house last year.

I get invites to family events, and I even have house keys to my mom’s.

I get to be Aunt Boo to my sister’s baby girl.

My family trusts me again.

I became a Certified Life Coach Minister, Certified Peer Specialist–Addictive Disease, Forensic Peer Mentor, and Whole Health Action Management Coach. I have used my lived experience to help others as the Addictive Disease Support Services Case Manager for the Felony Accountability Courts in Richmond County.

I support others in recovery through sponsorship and fellowship.

I have peace, joy, and contentment today.

Most recently, I was able to go back to school. I attempted 77 credits from 2011 to 2015 but only earned 55. After my credits were transferred into Capella, I got credit for 78.

Only God does math that way!

He is no respecter of persons. If He did it for me, He’ll do it for you.

I pray you see hope in my story and Him in me.

You are strong, resilient, and worthy.

I love you, and Jesus loves you more!”

There are so many pieces of Ashley’s story that could have once looked final.

Losing custody.

Jail.

Broken trust.

Family relationships destroyed.

A courtroom.

But recovery changed what came next.

The woman whose sisters once checked hospitals and jails trying to find her is now someone her family trusts again.

The mother who lost custody got her son back.

And perhaps one of the most beautiful full-circle moments of all: on Ashley’s three-year sobriety anniversary, a judge signed the papers allowing her husband to adopt her son in the same courtroom where he had once received a prison sentence.

You can’t make restoration like that up.

Today, Ashley takes the lived experience that could have buried her in shame and uses it to help people involved in the justice system find their own way forward.

Ashley, congratulations on SIX YEARS of recovery. Thank you for reminding us that sometimes the life waiting for us on the other side of addiction is bigger than anything we would have been brave enough to ask for ourselves.

As Joel 2 reminds us, God is able to restore the years that were lost.

Sometimes we would sell ourselves short if God let us write the whole story. ❤️

09/27/2026

Recovery Month Spotlight | Amanda Simpson ✨

Addiction doesn’t always look the way we expect it to.

Sometimes the person struggling is still going to work, paying the bills, taking care of responsibilities, and showing up for everyone who depends on them. From the outside, they may look like they’re functioning just fine.

Mandi Simpson knows what that looks like. And today, with more than three years clean from methamphetamine, she also knows what it feels like to finally get her life back.

“My name is Mandi Simpson, and I have over three years clean from methamphetamine.

Before recovery, I was what most people would call a functioning addict. From the outside, my life probably didn’t look like what people picture when they hear the word addiction. I worked. I had a career. I had people who depended on me, responsibilities that couldn’t just be put on hold, and bills that still had to be paid.

And honestly, that became part of what kept me trapped.

I knew I needed to stop, but I couldn’t figure out how. In my mind, there was never going to be a ‘good time’ for my entire life to fall apart long enough for me to get help. Too many people needed me, and I depended on my career and the life I had built.

So I kept functioning. I kept showing up.

And I kept using.

Until June 1, 2023.

That day, the choice I couldn’t seem to make for myself was suddenly made for me. I was arrested, and almost overnight, the things I had been so afraid of losing were taken away anyway.

At the time, it felt like my life had fallen apart.

Looking back now, I can see that it was also the day my life started coming back together.

Addiction had taken pieces of me long before that arrest. I hurt people I loved, made choices I’m not proud of, and lost parts of myself along the way. There are pieces of my past that I used to wish I could erase completely.

Recovery taught me that I don’t have to erase them.

I can use them.

Getting clean wasn’t some magical moment where suddenly everything became easy. I had to learn how to live again. I had to sit with feelings I used to run from. I had to rebuild relationships, rebuild trust, forgive myself, and figure out who Mandi was without drugs.

And somewhere in all of that rebuilding, I found her.

Today I’m a wife, a mother, a grandmother, and someone who can actually get excited about her future. I have a family I love, plans for my life, and dreams that are bigger than anything I allowed myself to imagine when I was using.

One of those dreams came directly from my recovery. I want to go back to school for addiction counseling, and I’m building Grace & Grit Foundation with the goal of eventually opening recovery homes. I want to be there for people who are standing where I once stood and can’t see a way out yet.

And now, after being away for a year and a half, I’m getting ready to move back home to Augusta, Georgia—but I’m going home as a very different woman than the one who left.

I’m returning to give back to the same community that, if I’m being completely honest, I was once a menace in.

There’s something incredibly meaningful to me about going back to the place that saw some of the hardest and ugliest chapters of my life and allowing it to also be the place where I write some of my best ones.

I can’t undo the things I did while I was in active addiction. But I can decide what kind of impact I make there now.

If my experiences can help even one person find recovery, rebuild their life, or believe there’s something waiting for them on the other side of addiction, then I’m going to use them.

Because I know what it feels like to be the person who can’t see a way out.

And I also know what it feels like to finally look around one day and realize:

‘Holy sh*t… I made it out.’

Recovery hasn’t given me a perfect life.

It gave me my life back.

And now I want to use that life to help somebody else get theirs back too.

I spent a long time thinking my past was something I had to be ashamed of. Now I understand that some of the hardest chapters of my life are exactly what gave me the purpose I have today.

Turning pain into purpose.

That’s not just something I say anymore.

It’s what I’m doing.

And if somebody still struggling happens to read my story, I hope they know this: You don’t have to be able to picture the whole future yet. You don’t have to have everything figured out.

Just don’t give up before you get the chance to meet the person you’re going to become.

I’m really damn glad I didn’t. ❤️”

There’s something special about getting to return to the same community that knew you in active addiction and saying, “Watch what I do here now.”

Mandi doesn’t have to erase her past to build her future. Today, she can take the experiences that once brought pain and shame and use them to understand the person who still can’t see a way out.

A wife. A mother. A grandmother. A woman with dreams for her future. A woman planning to pursue addiction counseling and build something that could one day give other people a safe place to recover.

And soon, a woman coming home to Augusta with a completely different purpose than the one she left with.

Mandi, thank you for sharing your story and for reminding us that recovery doesn’t require us to pretend the old chapters never happened.

We just get to pick up the pen and write what happens next.

Welcome home, Mandi. We can’t wait to see what you do with this chapter. ❤️