We opened a temporary warming shelter a few weeks ago for our unhoused neighbors. Most days are busy. Loud. Full. 

But some moments make me pause.

One of our guests has been having a particularly hard season. He carries a lot more than most, and mental illness is evident. This morning, he was pacing back and forth restless and anxious when he finally said with a force in his voice, “I need to talk to someone. Can I talk to you?”

Of course, I said yes.

We stepped into my office. He sat down on the couch, and instantly the smell of cigarette smoke and four days’ worth of being unhoused filled the room. 

It was uncomfortable if I’m being honest. 

He began talking; one thought after another. Fears. Frustrations. Half-formed thoughts about lifelong worries. I listened.

After a while, I gently said, “I think I understand what you’re saying. And I see you.”

Just like that, his entire body relaxed. Someone saw him.

That was all he needed at that moment. Not solutions, not lectures, not corrections. To be seen. To be heard. He knew his problems weren’t magically fixed. He even knew some of his recent choices weren’t good ones. But that wasn’t what we were talking about.

We were talking about dignity. About presence. About the power of being fully acknowledged by another human being.

At Love, INC, we often talk about meeting tangible needs: warmth, food, shelter. But moments like this remind me that some of the deepest needs can’t be stocked on shelves. 

Sometimes the holiest thing we can offer is our focused attention.

To sit. To listen. To say, “I see you.”

And mean it.