Late Fall, Early Winter, and Re-learning to Breathe

If it’s felt quieter than usual from me these past several weeks, I want you to know I haven’t gone anywhere. I’ve just been living in that strange in-between space where the work is constant, the days move fast, and I occasionally look up and realize I’ve been holding my breath without meaning to.

Since my last newsletter—ironically named, “An overdue update!”—the pace has picked up in a big way (you can view past newsletters here). Most of November was spent preparing for the Winter Warming Shelter—staffing, training, policies, logistics, coordination with partners, and all the unglamorous but essential details that make overnight shelter safe, dignified, and sustainable. As winter in Illinois often does, the weather arrived on its own timeline, and we ended up opening the shelter early on November 30th. It was one of those moments where preparation meets reality, and you open the doors because people need somewhere warm, ready or not. Thankfully, a local church, Common Good Church, spent its usual service time that Sunday helping get the shelter space ready for that night.

December hasn’t slowed things down. In fact, it’s added another layer. Last Wednesday, the City released the RFP for the Lexington Motel (where they moved everyone from Tent City at the beginning of this year), which has been a long-anticipated step and has generated a lot of conversation, questions, and energy. Right now, we’ve been collaborating with some key local partners to explore how we might apply and contribute toward a thoughtful, community-centered solution. There’s still a lot unfolding, and much of the work is behind the scenes, but it’s been encouraging to see people leaning toward collaboration rather than competition.

Between shelter operations, ongoing casework coordination, conversations with partners, and the general weight that winter carries for people experiencing homelessness, these weeks have been full of all the things and emotions—good, heavy, meaningful, exhausting. There are days when the work feels deeply grounding and days when I realize I’ve been moving so fast that I forget to pause, breathe, or step back long enough to notice how tired I am.

I also want to share something transparently. Over the course of this year, monthly financial support has dropped by about $900 a month compared to the beginning of the year. I’m incredibly grateful to every person who gives, because this work simply wouldn’t be possible without that support. If you’ve ever wondered whether your giving makes a difference, it truly does. And if you’re in a position to start or increase support, it would directly help sustain the work I’m doing alongside our community during this season.

Through it all, I remain deeply grateful for you—for your encouragement, prayers, trust, and patience. When updates come less frequently, please know it’s not because the work has slowed or because you’ve drifted from my thoughts. It’s usually because I’m in the thick of it, trying to show up well, make careful decisions, and keep people safe and cared for.

Thank you for walking with me through this season. Thank you for your patience when I’m quieter than usual. I’m re-learning (slowly) that part of sustaining this work is remembering to breathe.