I think about our unsheltered neighbors.  Maybe not a lot. But every time I’m out in my car and see an encampment or someone whose entire life is piled into a shopping cart.

I can’t even imagine what it must be like not to have dry socks or clean underwear. To be wet and cold or hot and dirty.  Not to have one spot on the face of the earth where you can legally lie down and rest.  I don’t know where my unsheltered neighbor fell short, took a wrong turn, lost her mind. I do know, one poor decision, and I could be there too.

No one knows what the answers are.  Some people are compassionate.  Some are offended. Some seek to understand.  Some blame the victims.  Sometimes we all avert our eyes.

At Capital Manor we do small things.  We contribute to Marion/Polk Share. We give things from our thrift shop that we can’t sell to the Union Gospel Mission.  We knit warm caps in the fiber arts studio. There’s a little free pantry in my church’s parking lot.  I leave things there. Sometimes I think all these gestures achieve it to make me feel a little better.

No one knows what the answers are.