It’s a drizzly day in the bustling city named Boston. While buzzing down Eighth street I feel a sudden sadness as I approach an underpass. I notice numerous people living their daily lives. They have nothing on their calendars, for they have none. One was in a wheelchair, another was sitting on a milk crate, and one of the more fortunate was positioning his suitcase against a bike that leaned against a concrete wall. Most have no suitcase, only plastic bags holding a meager collection of all they hold dear.

But no one holds them dear. They live for themselves alone.

Waiting for never; simply living day-to-day, they hope for what they consider staples; food, a few half-smoked cigarettes and some loose change. They are living in a small city within a big city. They are the homeless.

Imagine existing with no place to call home. Where do you leave your worries after a long day at work? Do you wear them like a tattered cloak in the ongoing war between your needs and wants? When you close your front door and shut out the rest of the world, do you dare to face the reality that you have a chance to make a difference for others? As you reach for a glass of wine, do you see your glass as half-empty? As night closes in, do you close the lights and drift off to sleep on a bed you call your own?

Some people have an empty home. Walls, floors, and furniture, but a body without a soul. A paper manual programs the lives they lead. Their leads are an electrical wire; just a fraying tether between themselves, friends and relatives whose schedules prevent any deep connection to one another. A cell phone replacing a hug. An emailed gift card instead of a wrapped, ribboned, well-chosen present. They aren’t present.

But where do the homeless and the home dwellers meet?

It’s all in the giving. The giving of, caring for, and understanding from hearts that feel. Give them your ill-fitting, last winter’s coat to warm them on dark, snowy nights. Show mercy and care that for whatever reason they are homeless, they still matter. Understand that they were once someone’s baby- and babies are born to be loved. When the loving stopped, their hearts didn’t.

After you have read this blog post and proceed on your way, know that for them, your smile goes a long way. Fill a bag with leftover food to fill their empty stomachs. Their candles have not been snuffed out. You can light their way to see that they deserve what we can offer. Give them a reason to look beyond the breeze-blown refuse beside them on their sidewalk destiny. Our giving can be the legacy we leave when we are led home.

They might never have an address, but we do. Open the envelope that holds the faith that we can do better. That’s the least we can do.