I didn’t attach a photo because I want you to see people living without shelter the way I see them. I see behind the fragile smiles and the layers of clothes. I see more than the sacks that they carry. I see neighbors living in my community. I cannot generalize and make sweeping judgements. Each one has a different face, which I see, and a story, which I do not know. Each one has the same need for a break from the cold Wisconsin winter.

During a recent blizzard, I was cozy sitting on a well-worn loveseat with a cup of expresso at my side streaming a rented version of the Best Picture of the Year. Outside there was a whipping wind and blinding snow in the freezing temperature.

I was immune to it.

Those without shelter are exposed to it.

When we use the words less fortunate to describe a population of our brothers and sisters, it has a connotation of pity. These neighbors, though, don’t need pity. It doesn’t work that way. They deserve dignity and compassion.

For reasons I do not completely understand, I joined the mission at our local warming shelter and saw a segment of homelessness. I volunteer at a low-barrier shelter, meaning guests don’t qualify to stay there, they arrive to an open invitation and are welcomed in from the cold. This place is only an overnight respite from homelessness; it is not temporary or permanent housing. It is a church basement with the glow of the street lights filtered through the stained glass in the dark of the night. The warming shelter is a shield from the elements, a warm evening meal, and a continental breakfast. It’s open from mid-November through mid-April, from 8 p.m. to 8 a.m. The first twelve at the door receive a cot and linens for the night. 

I am a night monitor who works a weekly 4-830 a.m. shift with my husband. This is neither heroic nor angelic. It is a commitment we made when scores of others were already doing it after a few visionaries opened the doors in the late fall of 2022. During my shift, I stay awake. Then, I open the door for the breakfast hosts at 620 a.m. and turn the lights on at 630 a.m. I mingle with the guests briefly before they have to leave for the day. 

I do not ask where they go. I do not say, “Have a good day” when they leave; I say, “Take care of yourself.”

After some light housekeeping, I return to my house and crawl into bed to catch up on the missed sleep. It is hard for sleep to come as I picture these people, not any noticeably different than any other people. Individuals whose diverse paths led them to the same circumstance. They found peers and helpers because our community faith leaders got together, rallied the troops and officials, and opened the doors to a shelter that has become so much more than a thermostat and thin blanket. It has become a community movement.

People from all corners of our larger community have donated funds, hygiene items, hand warmers, socks, gloves, bus tokens – all given with extreme generosity. Our community is energized to help these individuals who we now see lining up each afternoon on the frozen sidewalk awaiting the doors to open. Our community has donated benches, a bike rack, meals, volunteer hours, supplies, materials, services, etc. Individuals, non-profit organizations, churches, and government agencies have jumped in to help the mission. Because we have done this for our neighbor, guests are coming together night after night in a makeshift fellowship. They are living bravely with only what they can carry.

I know there are groups working on the steering committee moving forward with additional resources and services. I know there are groups of people looking upstream at root causes. In the meantime, I’ll keep sharing my observations like the trained journalist I am. This is my my offering. My words of hope for compassionate alternatives to living without shelter. And, this my friends is enough. A kind view of those living in homelessness is enough to break down barriers. Pass it on.