My Neighbor Opened Her House to the Homeless
It’s amazing how depression gets better when we dedicate ourselves to something larger than ourselves.
Last night at a neighborhood gathering, I heard some surprising news.
“Did you know Vicki and Tim have homeless people living with them?” A neighbor asked as I was sipping wine and getting reacquainted with people I hadn’t seen since before the pandemic.
I vaguely remembered Vicki and Tim because our children went to school together. Like us, they’ve been empty nesters for a long time. I recalled that they were dedicated Christians, and they always had a house full of kids at their place. But I hadn’t seen them in over a decade.
Those of us who opted to remain in the neighborhood after our children grew up and moved away live in houses that have more bedrooms than we need.
My extra guest room came in handy when I moved my mother in with me for the last 20 months of her life. Before that, my son, daughter-in-law, and their four children stayed while their house was being finished. Now the only time our extra bedrooms are used is when the kids and grandkids come to visit.