During my time at The INN Between, I’ve met many people who tell me they’ve spent years feeling unseen, passing quietly through streets, shelters or hospital rooms. Many residents arrive with little more than the clothes on their backs and a hospital bag of paperwork. But what they’re missing most isn’t possessions. It’s recognition.
It only takes something small to change that. Someone remembers their name. Someone looks them in the eye. Someone celebrates their birthday or sits with them over a meal to learn about their life. In that moment, their whole demeanor changes. The act of being seen reminds them that they are still human, still known, still loved. To me, that is the truest form of generosity.
Generous people often call us and ask, “What do you need?” Food, clothing, Christmas gifts, donations. Those things all matter. They keep people alive and bring comfort during a medical crisis. But after nearly a decade of providing care and housing to terminally ill and medically frail homeless adults, I’ve learned that what most people crave, what truly heals them, is being seen…