It’s sunny today, but cold and breezy. I will probably walk later when it’s a little warmer, but for now I’m looking at the bright day from my window. The trees have turned! It is beautiful here in Southwest Missouri. I am grateful for everything I can see out my window.

This is a month especially for gratitude. Thanksgiving is on the 25th this year, and the first thing I am thankful for is that my sister and brother-in-law will be at my house for the week. There are so many more things I am thankful for, some of them I have come to realize are the basic things some people do not have: a warm, comfortable home; fresh food to eat; transportation that I can take to anywhere I want to go; resources to buy things that make me comfortable, happy and safe; and on and on.

I have been sitting in on a community task force meeting monthly that works tirelessly for homeless youth. I am trying to find a niche where I can fit in to participate in their work. Because of the pandemic I was reluctant to volunteer for some of their activities, but I hope to find something I can do to serve this community of often ignored young people. No one should have to be homeless, but children, especially, should have a safe place to live and resources to thrive and have hope for the future.

There is a daytime facility in Springfield call the Rare Breed, where young people can find shelter and meals and help with other needs. Unfortunately, it is not an overnight shelter. I helped with a group of others a couple of times in providing dinner for the youth who frequent this shelter. It was heartbreaking, but so satisfying, too.

I sat at a table with a young woman, maybe 16, with a child and pregnant again. I think I’d feel crushed and hopeless, but this young woman was upbeat and friendly. She has remained in my heart and mind ever since, and I wrote a poem about her:

Rare Breed

She sits at the table beside her young child,
with another one on the way,
and feeds him the donated food
we brought for this one night’s meal
in this place of temporary sanctuary,
and I wonder how she got here.

“There were too many drugs at my house,
too many people coming and going.
My mom and dad didn’t even know if I was there
most of the time, and didn’t care.
I knew they wouldn’t miss me,
so I ran.”

Her voice is steady and matter of fact;
it’s just the way it is for her.
I want to weep for her,
her children and her future.
How will she get past the barriers
blocking her path:

a child herself with two young children,
little education, nowhere to go,
never knowing where she will sleep
or when she will eat
or what comes next.
She has had no childhood.

I watch her laugh with the others
around the table,
all young teens, homeless,
hanging strong, holding back,
giving nothing away that might hurt
or shatter the walls around them.

I will find my place at some point in part of the solution for homeless youth; I’m not sure how or when, but somehow it will happen.

What is a charitable passion of yours that you want to give, or already are giving, yourself to? Write about it and some ways you are or want to serve that passion.

Make a list of things you are thankful for. Choose one to explore in depth: what makes you thankful for it, describe how it makes you feel, how it makes you act.

How can you make a difference in the world, even in small ways, that make it a better place to live?