Mission Moments: Cazden’s Y

From Fear to Freedom: How the Y Helped Cazden Find Confidence in the Water and Beyond

Cazden smiling in the pool during swim lessons at the YMCA of Reading and Berks County

At first, the water felt bigger than he was.

For 10-year-old Cazden, even stepping into a pool once meant uncertainty. The deep end was out of the question. Going underwater? Unthinkable. Like many children on the autism spectrum, new environments and unfamiliar sensations can feel overwhelming, especially something as unpredictable as water.

But what made it even harder wasn’t just fear. It was access.

“There were places that didn’t want to work with him,” his mom, Lisa, shares quietly. “Sometimes with kids on the spectrum… people just don’t know how.”

Lisa is Cazden’s biological grandmother and the only one he calls mom. She has raised Cazden since birth and officially adopted him just before he turned two. 

She knows his strengths: his incredible intelligence, his attention to detail, his love of building intricate LEGO worlds filled with dinosaurs and space stations, and his imagination. She also knows his challenges including social hesitations, sensory sensitivities, and a tendency to keep to himself. She also knew how much Cazden loved the water. And loving the water without knowing how to swim? That’s not just a gap—it’s a risk. So Lisa started searching for lessons where he’d be accepted and comfortable. After a lot of phone calls and a few underwhelming experiences, she found the YMCA of Reading & Berks County. 

A Different Kind of Welcome 

From the very first conversation, things felt different. Instead of hesitation, there was openness. Instead of uncertainty, there was a plan. Lisa connected with Rebecca, a swim instructor who didn’t just teach strokes, she understood people and took the time to listen. They started with a one-on-one meeting and that’s where everything changed.

“Rebecca is amazing,” Lisa says. “She understands his personality. His quirks. She gives him space, but she knows how to reach him.” 

Having that balance of patience and encouragement along with structure and flexibility, created something Cazden hadn’t experienced before with new environments: comfort.

As luck would have it, Lisa also found inclusion and belonging from the women in the pool who would invite her to join them while her son was having his lessons. Everyone was welcoming.

Small Steps, Big Breakthroughs 

At the beginning, progress looked simple. Learning to float. Getting his face in the water. Trusting the feeling of letting go.

Over time, those small steps turned into something bigger. Cazden learned how to swim the length of the pool, then back again. Then, he started diving. Today, he’s doing twists and turns in the water like the kind you’d expect from a confident swimmer; not a child who once refused to go underwater. While his progress is fun to watch, the biggest transformation isn’t what you can see. It’s how he feels.

“His confidence… it’s completely different,” Lisa says. “Before, he wouldn’t even jump in. Now, he just goes.” 

That confidence doesn’t stay in the pool. It follows him everywhere.

Finding His Place 

Outside of the water, Cazden has always tended to keep to himself. He is more of a thinker, a builder, and an observer more than a social butterfly. Yet, with the confidence he gained in himself, Lisa noticed unexpected changes at the Y.

“In the water, he talks to everyone,” Lisa says, smiling. “He talks to the other kids. He even tries to help them.”

The same child who once stood on the sidelines is now being invited in by peers. 

Seeing this shift in anyone is rewarding, but for a parent of a child with autism the change is monumental. The transformation gives her a renewed confidence in Caden’s ability to live independently some day. For Lisa it was also a place of support for both of them where they didn’t feel isolated by people who didn’t understand. Instead they found connection among a community of people who welcomed and invited them to be included in activities at the pool. 

He feels safe, seen, and capable. That’s what the Y created for him.

More Than a Skill—A Life Change

For Lisa, swimming was always about more than recreation. “It’s a life skill,” she says. “I grew up learning how to swim. Everyone should have that.” She acknowledges that for Cazden, it’s also about freedom. 

Freedom to go on vacation and play in the pool without fear.
Freedom to say “yes” when other kids ask him to join.
Freedom to explore something he loves without limits.

And maybe, one day, freedom to chase his even bigger dream to be an astronaut when he grows up.

Why It Matters

There are many families like Lisa and Cazden who are searching for a place that says yes when others say no. The YMCA believes everyone deserves a place that welcomes, adapts, and encourages individuals to reach new goals. For youth development, the Y is also a place that believes in someone’s potential before it’s fully visible and gives you a safe space to try something new and find meaningful experiences. 

“They help anybody,” Lisa says as her voice catches. “Their doors are open to everyone. There were people who didn’t want to support my child… because of his autism.” 

At the Y, they weren’t turned away. Cazden was invited in and Lisa found a renewed sense of community and support. That’s why this matters.

An Invitation to Be Part of the Story

Cazden’s story is about swimming, and it’s also about confidence, belonging, and possibilities. These are each of the foundational building blocks that every child deserves. 

Supporting the YMCA makes funding programs possible, which in turn create moments like this:

A child jumping into the deep end for the first time.
A parent exhaling, knowing their child is safe.
A quiet kid finding his voice—and being heard.

That’s the impact and the legacy each of us leave when we support the Y’s mission.

Mission Moments: Roy’s Y

Roy’s Second Chance: Finding Home, Family, and Purpose at the Y

Roy, a YMCA Men’s Bridge program graduate, smiling at the YMCA of Reading and Berks County after rebuilding his life through recovery and community support.

Like so many others, Roy’s addiction began with what seemed harmless at the time, social drinking in high school and college that gradually hardened into something he could no longer control. It spiraled into years of dependence, loss and instability.

Roy built a life working as a chef, then co‑owning a successful autobody shop, and starting a family. After a workplace injury in 2010 led to back surgeries and prescriptions that eased the severe chronic pain, he was introduced to a new kind of dependence. Over the years addiction took more than his health. It cost him his business, his home, his marriage, his relationships with his children – and eventually hope. 

Achieving sobriety was only half of the battle for regaining security. Roy needed a stable job and place to live. He thought he had finally landed, but stability slipped through his grasp before he was fully back on his feet. When the paid position was replaced with a volunteer, his job and housing also vanished. 

That’s when Roy spent five weeks living alone in a tent. “All I had were the clothes on my back. Nothing. Nothing else,” he remembers.  

He wanted to rebuild his life but had cycled through treatment programs and stops and starts of sober living and the resulting life changes. A turning point for Roy was being arrested for public intoxication and related charges. With a choice between prison or a treatment court program, Roy applied to the YMCA Men’s Bridge program. 

One phone call changed everything. 

The YMCA accepted his application for the Men’s Bridge program and introduced him to his case manager, Gary. The Y didn’t just offer shelter; it offered structure, practical help, and a community that refused to give up on him. Roy moved into the Bridge House and began rebuilding one day at a time. He showed up for recovery meetings, did the step work, and leaned on recovery coaches and Y staff who helped him get an ID, Social Security, and disability benefits. Those concrete milestones, paired with daily encouragement, replaced chaos with structure and dignity.

The transformation rippled outward. Roy reconnected with his daughter. He stayed sober through his son’s deployment. He completed the Men’s Bridge program and transitioned into a Single Room Occupancy unit, paying rent and living among neighbors who practice mutual accountability in sober housing. For the first time in years, Roy had something he hadn’t felt for years: belonging. He calls the YMCA his forever home. 

The Y made me feel safe and secure, every single person here, to me, is family. Someone is giving me a second chance. The Y is letting me have a second chance.

Roy’s story is not just about one man’s recovery. It’s a portrait of how community care, hospitals, recovery coaches, shelters, and the YMCA, can come together to rescue lives. He credits the unique network of resources across Berks County with gratitude made possible by supporters. “I’ve never seen any county that does this.” His advice to others is simple and honest: take responsibility, keep showing up, and accept help when it’s offered. Today Roy is sober, employed, connected to services, and committed to paying it forward.

This transformation is possible because donors and supporters of the Y fund the programs, staff, and housing that make second chances real. Your support gives people like Roy the tools to rebuild with the life skills, safe place to sleep, and a community that believes in their worth. When you give to the Y, you give more than services. You give a lifeline, a family, and a future.

Mission Moments: Amy’s Y

At the Y, Amy found healing, belonging, and the strength to lift others. 

The path to healing isn’t always a straight line. Sometimes it’s a winding, uphill climb filled with second chances, painful detours, and moments that break you, before they begin to build you back up again. For Amy, that path started with the YMCA. 

Amy confidently telling her Y story at the Breakfast of Champions

Her journey began in crisis. After struggling with addiction and surviving an abusive marriage, Amy was welcomed into the housing program at the YMCA of Reading & Berks County. In retrospect, it was Amy’s first real step toward a better life. 

The YMCA was the beginning of my story. Even though I didn’t stay long, it planted a seed. It was the first time I started to believe that a different life was possible.

That belief, however small, was enough.

By 2012, Amy began to transform her life as the changes she had made gave her new footing and she found support in community programs, recovery meetings, and sober events. Finally, she “started living instead of just surviving” and her world shifted for the best. She regained full custody of her daughter, and married the love of her life, and created a new beautifully blended family with four children.  

Amy’s journey with the Y took on a new, incredible life, this time as a parent. All four kids attended before-and-after school “Y-Care” at Brecknock Elementary and summer camp at the Mifflin YMCA. They loved the fun experiences and making/playing with friends. Amy and her husband loved even more than that. They found support, comfort and strength in the inclusion and sense of true belonging that their son, who is on the autism spectrum, found at the Y.

They welcomed him with open arms. So many places wouldn’t ‘deal’ with him. But the Y staff never made him feel like a burden. They made him feel like he belonged.

Fast forward to 2018. Life threw another devastating blow when Amy’s mother was diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer and passed away within months. Grief and depression hit like a tidal wave. That’s when someone encouraged her to go to the gym. “I thought it was a joke,” she laughs softly, “but I went.”

And something clicked. 

Group fitness didn’t just become a routine; it became her anchor. A space to breathe. A place to cry, sweat, connect, and feel something other than grief.  “Group fitness became my saving grace,” Amy says. 

Amy teaching a group fitness class at Sinking Spring YMCA

Soon, she wasn’t just taking classes. She was leading them. Giving back the same encouragement that once saved her. 

Today, Amy teaches group fitness at the YMCA, pouring strength into every movement, every message. She’s become the light for others still navigating dark places, the way the Y once was for her. For the young mother battling addiction. For her stepson, who just wanted to feel accepted. For the grieving daughter trying to survive one more day. “The Y helped me grow. It helped my family grow,” Amy says. “And now I get to be part of the change that helped me.” 

Because of the Y, Amy’s life is proof that hope can be rebuilt and shared. 

Be the reason someone like Amy finds their first step toward healing. Donate today and support the programs that give our community strength, one story at a time.