Homeless shelters are seeing an influx of people who have lost their jobs or seen their hours cut — a trend providers warn will only get worse as job losses mount and laid-off workers exhaust their unemployment benefits and savings.

Across the state, waiting lists for shelters have swelled as families seek help, providers say. And programs that provide emergency cash to help people cover rent, utilities or other expenses so they can stay in their homes are swamped with requests for aid.

"These are people who are victims of the economy," said Utu Langi, who manages the state's Next Step homeless shelter in Kaka'ako. "The majority of the people who are coming into our shelter are people who have lost jobs due to the economic downturn."

Meanwhile, providers say, many among the ranks of the newly homeless are finding it hard to get back on their feet, with fewer jobs available and more people vying for them.

Harrison Muraoka, 32, said he lost his job early this year after getting pneumonia. The job loss left him and his wife, Darlene, struggling to pay the bills. And in June, after being evicted from their home, the couple and their four children were forced to move into the Next Step shelter.

While there, they've searched feverishly for new jobs.

Darlene Muraoka, 28, finally found a position last week as a bank teller.

"Some days," she said, "I still wake up in a panic attack and try to figure out what we're going to do and where we're going to go from here."

The situation comes at a time when the state is threatening layoffs of its own to tackle a worsening budget crunch and as providers are being forced to scale back their services because of decreases in government funding and public giving.

NUMBERS RISING

Last month, there were 472 families on waiting lists for homeless shelters statewide, an increase of 65 families from May. Meanwhile, there were 1,637 single people on waiting lists, up from 1,278 singles in May, according to the homeless programs branch at the Hawai'i Public Housing Authority.

Some of those families and singles may be on more than one waiting list.

Meanwhile, waiting lists at some shelters have ballooned over the past year, though providers said some of that increase can't be attributed to the economy but to other factors, such as a city push to clear homeless campers from beach parks.

There are 254 singles and 124 families on the waiting list for the Onelau'ena shelter in Kalaeloa, compared with 61 singles and 28 families in October 2008, according to the authority.

The Onemalu shelter in Kalaeloa has 156 families and 51 singles on its waiting list. In October 2008, there were 112 individuals in all on the list, the authority said.

'TIP OF THE ICEBERG'

Providers had been bracing since January for an increase in homelessness, saying that families seeing pay cuts or job losses wouldn't be homeless immediately, but might eventually find themselves without a roof over their heads after running through their savings — and their other options.

That "wave," as one provider called it, appears to have started.

And many worry the increase so far is just the beginning.

"We're just starting to get the tip of the iceberg," said Doran Porter, executive director of the Affordable Housing and Homeless Alliance, an advocacy group that also runs drop-in centers for largely homeless singles or couples. "It's going to get worse as people's unemployment runs out and resources run out."

Porter said many of the new faces seeking help through the agency have lost their jobs. As of July, the nonprofit had logged 6,780 client visits — a number that includes some client double-counting. That's compared to 3,000 client visits last year.

People go to the agency for everything from toiletries and food to help signing up for benefits.

ROOM ELSEWHERE

Not every homeless shelter is full, though.

The Institute for Human Services has room for five to 10 families, depending on their size, at its shelter on Ka'a'ahi Street along with space for up to 20 more single women. At its Sumner Street facility, it has room for up to 60 single men.

IHS spokeswoman Kate Bepko said though the shelters aren't at capacity, the nonprofit has been getting slammed with calls from people seeking help.

Many are requesting emergency aid through a program funded with $1.1 million in federal stimulus dollars that's aimed at preventing homelessness. Bepko said the program, which helps people with rent or other payments so they can stay in their homes, is getting 30 to 40 calls a day.

IHS is also seeing many more people at its hot food lines. Last month, the nonprofit got 50 people a day coming for hot meals. This month, that number has doubled, Bepko said.

HARD TO MEASURE

Russ Saito, state comptroller and the governor's special adviser on homelessness, said it does appear "just from observation" that homelessness is increasing. But he added in the absence of an official count it's hard to tell how big the increase is or who is becoming homeless.

Since 2006, the state has spent more than $40 million to open emergency and transitional homeless shelters, mostly on the Wai'anae Coast, in hopes of taking people off the streets.

The push to open shelters started during the housing boom, when hundreds of people were priced out of rentals and found themselves sleeping in tents on the beach.

Saito said given the tight fiscal times, the state has no immediate plans to funnel more money to homeless programs.

But there is hope that as the economy improves, people who lost their homes because of job losses or wage cuts will be able to get back on their feet more quickly than those who couldn't find affordable housing during the housing boom.

"It's a little easier to get them (the new homeless) back into normal mode when things get better," Saito said.

MANY ON THE BRINK

Providers say a big chunk of the new population of homeless have never been on the streets before, though were likely living on the brink of homelessness and may have been staying with relatives.

"We're finding that there's more and more people who just were always paycheck to paycheck and now their paycheck has either shrunk or (is) nonexistent," said Darlene Hein, director of community services for the Waikiki Health Center.

Kent Anderson, executive director of Family Promise of Hawai'i, which runs two emergency shelters for families, said the economic downturn is also making it more difficult for families to get back into a place of their own. He said a few years ago, the nonprofit was able to help a family get into a home in two to four weeks. Now, he said, it's taking two to three months.

DIFFICULT TIMES

The Muraokas, at the Next Step shelter, have been searching since May for work.

The family of six was living in Florida, but moved back to the Islands in November to be closer to relatives.

Darlene Muraoka said she thought she would find work quickly.

But week after week went by, and she found nothing.

Her husband, Harrison, secured a job as a sales representative, but he lost it early this year when he was out for a week because of pneumonia.

With bills adding up, he took a lower-paying job. But that didn't cover the rent or expenses.

So the family was evicted.

And the Muraokas found themselves sleeping on the North Shore in a van or a tent.

At one point, the couple's four children — 5, 8, 10 and 16 — moved in with Darlene Muraoka's mother.

Finally, in June, the family decided to come to Next Step when they couldn't find another way out.

Families, couples and singles stay in cardboard cubicles at the shelter, which the state opened in a warehouse in 2006 to help those displaced when the city began closing Ala Moana Beach Park at night.

Darlene Muraoka said the ordeal has been tough. But their children, the oldest of whom is adopted, have helped them through it.

"They were stones and the rocks in the foundation of our family," she said.

She added that coming to Next Step was hard.

"I couldn't picture myself in a shelter," she said.

"The way I had pictured it, it was just kind of nightmarish."

But once she got to the shelter, and was greeted by staff and welcomed by other residents, she felt better. "Everybody was so warm and so friendly," she said.

That makes the circumstances easier to take, the couple said.

But Harrison Muraoka added, "I don't think it ever gets normal."