Every weekday afternoon, a van pulls up outside three Royal Oak schools and kids pile in. The van doesn’t take the kids to their houses; instead, it goes to The Salvation Army community center on North Main.
But when they arrive, they’re already home.
That's how Majors Jennifer and Steve Woodard tend to describe what they do here: they focus on what a child feels when they walk through the door.
"They realize this is a safe place," Steve says. "We become part of the extended family."
During the Woodard’s time with The Salvation Army, they’ve overseen treatment facilities, housing programs for women and children with HIV during the epidemic of the late nineties, a shelter that served over a thousand meals a day. They've spent the better part of three decades figuring out what it means to show up for people in the worst moments of their lives.
And both of them grew up watching their parents do the exact same thing.
Jennifer's mother and father were Salvation Army officers; so were her grandparents. She was twelve years old when she felt her own calling — and immediately doubted it. A shy girl, Jennifer couldn't picture herself the way she saw her father, moving row by row at events, sticking out his hand to strangers, watching their faces change. ”I didn't see myself as having what it took," she says.
At a church service not long after, the preacher came down from the pulpit to pray with her. He told her when God called him, he’d been twelve years old himself.
That was enough for Jennifer.
"It meant that God was going to equip me to do what he called me to do," she says.
Steve's parents were in ministry too, but the calling didn't come early for him. He graduated from Indiana University with degrees in psychology and criminal justice, and went to work as a counselor for incarcerated youth, trying to get the kids back into school, into jobs, helping them see that a bad choice didn't have to be the whole story. He was good at it. He had a house, a car, a relationship. His life felt stable.
Then one rainy night, everything changed. Steve described it simply: “God asked, ‘Are you done doing what you'd like to do? Steve listened as the voice continued: I can bless you in a greater way: not just incarcerated youth, but families, generations, sharing the love of Christ in the worst moments of people's lives.
Within a month, he’d enrolled in the Salvation Army's Chicago seminary. That's where he met Jennifer.
They've been together thirty-three years, raising three kids who now have kids of their own. Their working philosophy about marriage and ministry: divide by strength, yield by wheelhouse. “And,” Jennifer adds, smiling, “don't share an office. That’s our secret.”
The Royal Oak corps they now lead is larger than most places they've served, with a full community center and a gymnasium. The after-school program — that van at the top of this article — picks up children from three different schools and hosts them until their parents get home. There’s a winter basketball league where Steve tells me referees aren’t whistle-happy. “You travel, you double dribble… whatever,” Steve says, smiling.
Tuesday nights through the school year, kids can stay for music lessons or Bible study. There’s also a summer day camp, and a nearby overnight camp called Echo Grove that runs music camps, archery, ropes courses, and ziplines for kids ages three through seventeen.
And then there's the Pathway of Hope, a program for families who “have goals,” as the Woodards put it: they’re ready to break challenging cycles. A caseworker walks alongside them, connecting them to resources and helping them map a path forward.
I ask if any stories of lives impacted by their work stand out. "This side of heaven, we might not even know the impact of what we do,” Steve replies. But he tells me of a young man on staff now who grew up in Detroit, in circumstances that could have ended his story early. He found his way to Echo Grove as a camper, then as a summer staff member, then into the orbit of the Royal Oak congregation. A family here adopted him. He's married now. He just had a baby boy.
And he works in the building that helped save him.
Jennifer credits their staff and volunteers, who she says make “impacts that last a lifetime.” And she maintains we all can make that same impact — by doing what she learned from her father.
“All you’ve got to do,” Jennifer explains simply, “is say, 'How are you doing today?' and just really mean it.”
The Salvation Army Royal Oak Citadel is at 3015 N. Main Street in Royal Oak. Programs include after-school care, summer day camp, youth basketball, music instruction, and social services. For more info, or to volunteer or donate, call 248-585-5600 or visit centralusa.salvationarmy.org/royaloak
"[Kids] realize this is a safe place…we become part of the extended family."
There's a full community center, a gymnasium, an after-school program that picks up children and hosts them until parents get home, a winter basketball league, Tuesday nights music lessons or Bible study, and more.