Nestled in a quiet Durham neighborhood, Friendship House is far from your typical housing situation. It’s an intentional living community where Duke Divinity School students and adults with intellectual or developmental disabilities share more than an address; they share life.
The two Friendship House buildings, each with two apartments, are home to a total of 16 people – 12 Divinity students and four residents with disabilities. The housing model is rooted in mutuality and care, offering transitional housing that fosters connection, trust and belonging. The homes are a part of a long-standing partnership between the Duke Divinity School and Reality Ministries, a local nonprofit dedicated to nurturing friendships across lines of abilities.
Now in its 11th year, that collaboration remains stronger than ever. “We are committed to the slow work of cultivating a common life,” says Lisa McKee, the home life coordinator at Reality Ministries. “Each resident receives a place to belong and grow.”
The Friendship House model was developed by Matt Floding, the former director of ministerial and field education at Duke Divinity School, who brought the vision from Michigan, where he created an organization called FH Partners. Today, nearly a dozen Friendship Houses across the country offer opportunities for people with and without disabilities to live together and build lasting community.
Kim Edwards, a Friendship House resident who identifies as an adult with a disability, works locally part-time at a grocery store. For her, the slower pace of her days is a gift.
“I like to check emails, work on my block printing art, or just sit on the porch and listen to music,” she says. “When the students come back from class, we reconnect. Wednesdays are special because we always try to have Prayer Night, even in the summer when fewer people are here. It’s a time to slow down and be together.”
Ben Praamsma, one of the Duke Divinity student residents and resident adviser for the men’s Friendship House, notes that shared life is what makes the home distinct from any other residence hall.
“We don’t just live alongside each other. We’re intentional about making time for one another, even with our busy schedules,” says Praamsma, who is pursuing a master of divinity degree.
Those intersections often become memories. Edwards fondly remembers her first birthday at the women’s Friendship House, when her roommates surprised her with cupcakes and an impromptu art party.
“It was simple, but so thoughtful. I felt really loved,” she says.
Praamsma recalls a snow day last winter: “Classes and work were canceled and we all made lunch, went for a walk in the snow, which led to a snowball fight. It felt like a gift to just be together.”
If there’s a heartbeat to the homes, it’s found around the table during Sunday night dinners. Just across the street from each other, the Friendship Houses take turns hosting the event, creating space for connection beyond the structures of school or work.
“I’m not much of a cook,” Edwards laughs, “so I help chop or set up. My favorite was our ‘kids’ dinner,’ which was mac and cheese, dino nuggets and applesauce. It was silly, but nostalgic and so fun.”
Praamsma says the meals hold spiritual weight, too. “In the Christian tradition, shared meals symbolize God’s welcome. These dinners embody that welcome and extend it, often into ice cream outings or games.”
While the community is joyful, it’s also always growing. Differences in personalities, needs and communication styles require patience and effort from everyone. Yet both Edwards and Praamsma agree those challenges deepen their relationships.
“Vulnerability and reconciliation are huge here,” Praamsma says. “It’s easy to think conflict is bad, but working through frustrations deepens relationships. It’s not just about coexisting; it’s about actually choosing each other, even when it’s hard.”
Edwards nods to her own growth. “I’ve gotten more confident being around people. I’ve learned to find the right kind of friends, to feel comfortable even when things are awkward. That old nervousness just fades here.”
Beyond daily life, the experience is transformative. Edwards says living at a Friendship House has given her confidence and independence, helping her feel valued and supported. For Praamsma, the community has reshaped his faith and studies.
“Living alongside people with different abilities has expanded my vision of the kingdom of God,” he reflects. “It’s shown me that God’s love and justice aren’t complete unless they include everyone; not as an afterthought, but as central.”
When asked to describe the Friendship Houses, Praamsma offered three words: “mutual, sacrificial, joyful.” Edwards didn’t hesitate: “Eat together, pray together, celebrate together.” Both capture the essence of a community where friendships are not based on convenience or common interests, but on intentional care and values.
“Disability looks different on everyone,” Edwards says, “but at Friendship House, you’re valued. You matter. It feels like a community within a community. That’s what makes it home.” The Friendship Houses aren’t perfect, but maybe that’s the point. Their value lies in the daily, ordinary acts like sharing meals, throwing snowballs and listening on the porch. They connect people together into something meaningful: a home where friendship is more than a word.