I worked with homeless teens for several years. For a year, I was a 'live-in' with 7 different young women in a supportive housing program. It was a volunteer position (meaning I was unpaid, with free rent supplied), 24-7. When folks ask me what it was like, I say "it was the best of times, it was the worst of times". Dealing with all the associated problems; drug dealing, prostitution, violence, education, abuse issues ... you name it, we went through it.
There was also a house for young men that had a male live-in. The program was run by a youth shelter.
One morning, I got up and checked our mailbox. There was a handwritten note in the mailbox, addressed to me. It was a suicide note from one of the boys, saying he was taking off and knew I was the only one who cared. Well, I tore inside, put on some shoes and a coat and ran to the main office (it was only 2 blocks away). Since I knew his hangouts, we got a team together and tracked him down before was able to take the pills he had lifted.
Later, he told me that he knew I would save him because I 'understood'. Ten years later, he is doing really well. We still keep in touch, he went back to school and is now working with mentally ill folks.
Another time, one of the young women was kicked out of the program for dealing drugs. The other residents knew about it (unbeknownst to me) and had told the program director about it. When I got home from school (I was a part-time student), she was packing her things - she had one hour to get out. I went upstairs to her room to tell her how bad I felt, and that there was nothing I could do to help her except wish her well. Her back was to me. She was a very angry young woman, 17 years old.
She turned around, and flung her arms around me. She was crying and buried her head in my shoulder. Then she said the words that made the whole year of hell worthwhile. "You are the first adult that ever showed me real love."
I'm really proud that I could show two young people love, and help them survive.