Out of Sight

There is a phrase I have never been comfortable with: "Not in my backyard."

On the surface, it sounds practical. But the more I think about it, the more I wonder what we are really saying. Too often, it seems to mean, "I just don't want to see it."

The problem is that moving suffering somewhere else doesn't make it disappear. It only makes it easier for the rest of us to stop thinking about it.

Here in our own town, there are people living completely exposed to the elements. They sleep on hard dirt surrounded by chain link fences. When it rains, the ground becomes mud. When the summer heat arrives, it turns to dust. There is little shade, no real shelter, and very little dignity in living that way. Cars pass by every day, and instead of seeing people doing their best to survive, many see only an eyesore that should be moved somewhere else.

But where is "somewhere else?"

Being out of sight does not mean the need disappears. It only means we have chosen not to look. Compassion should never depend on convenience or geography. If seeing people struggle makes us uncomfortable, perhaps the answer is not to move them farther away, but to ask ourselves why we have become so comfortable looking away.

As our country enters a cold snap unlike anything many of us have experienced in years, I can't stop thinking about those who have no warm place to go. No heater humming through the night. No blanket fresh from the dryer. No front door to close against the wind. While many of us bundle up and complain about the cold during the short walk from our cars to our homes, there are people wondering how they will survive the night.

That thought should humble all of us.

The truth is, homelessness is complicated. There are no simple answers, and no single solution will meet every person's needs. But compassion doesn't require us to solve homelessness before we can care about the people experiencing it. Sometimes compassion begins with something much simpler. It begins by recognizing that every person sleeping outside is someone's child, someone's parent, someone's sibling, or someone's friend. They are not problems to be relocated. They are human beings whose circumstances deserve both dignity and compassion.

I hope shelters are open. I hope kindness reaches those who need it most. I hope every person facing these freezing temperatures finds warmth and safety, even if only for a night.

Most of all, I hope we never become so focused on moving suffering out of sight that we forget to see the people living through it.

Because warmth isn't only something we receive.

It's something we choose to give

A Moment to Reflect

Sometimes the hardest realities to face are the ones we wish would simply disappear. Yet looking away has never eased another person's burden. Compassion begins when we allow ourselves to see what is uncomfortable without turning away.

Who in your community might simply need to be seen, acknowledged, or treated with dignity today?