Allen's Fight for Dignity and Independence

Allen Going: A Story of Quiet Courage and the Will to Keep Going

If you've ever met someone who just keeps going—despite hardship, despite pain, despite the odds—you've met someone like Allen Going.

My name is Aaron, and I’ve been a lifelong friend of Allen and his family. I’ve known them through decades of both hardship and grit. After their father passed away, Allen’s mother raised six children on her own—working hard, staying faithful to Christ, and teaching them to do the best with what they had. Allen has lived that lesson every day of his life.

He’s never had much, but he’s always given what he could. He’s worked in pizza kitchens, helped local beekeepers, and earned income as a hand in butcher shops. For years, one of his most consistent sources of income was recycling—walking miles to collect aluminum cans along rural Idaho roads. After bagging them up for cash, he’d carefully twist off every tab and donate them to the Ronald McDonald House, where children use them in art and therapy projects.

It’s a small act—but it tells you everything about who Allen is.

Three years ago, everything changed. A serious infection in Allen’s left foot refused to heal, even after extensive treatments—including round after round in a hyperbaric chamber. Eventually, the doctors had no choice: they amputated his leg just below the knee. That should have been the end of it, but the infection returned. He endured more pain, more treatments. And finally, another amputation—this time above the knee.

You would think that would be the end of Allen’s independence. But it wasn’t.

He learned to walk again, this time with a prosthetic and a crutch. And incredibly, he went back to collecting cans. Back to saving tabs. Back to working with his hands when and where he could.

But three months ago, a second infection came—this time in the right leg. Despite every effort to save it, Allen had to undergo a second amputation. Now, he has lost both legs. And yet—he is not giving up.

Allen still wants to work. Still wants to contribute. Still wants to live with dignity and purpose.

He continues to collect recyclable metal—often electrical motors that he painstakingly disassembles by hand to extract valuable copper wire. It's slow, meticulous work. But it’s honest, and it’s his. What he needs now is a chance to keep doing it.

That’s why I’m asking for your help.

Allen needs to remodel his small bathroom so he can roll his wheelchair inside and bathe independently. And he needs a modest, insulated shed where he can sort and process metals year-round—someplace safe, dry, and warm enough to work in the Idaho winter.

These aren’t extravagant dreams. They’re tools. Tools for staying human, whole, and hopeful.

Even now, with so much taken from him, Allen is thinking about what he can still do—about how to keep going, how to contribute, how to live without becoming a burden.

If you’ve ever wondered what quiet courage looks like, it looks a lot like Allen Going.

Please consider donating to help Allen reclaim the space and the tools he needs to keep moving forward. Every contribution—no matter the size—will make a meaningful difference. And if you can't give today, please share his story. Let it reach the hearts it’s meant to touch.