Recently I visited a homeless shelter to see how everyone was holding up during the arctic blast that brought snow and freezing temperatures to our unprepared hamlet.
The shelter I visited is located in an abandoned fire station adjacent to its modern replacement.
The Mayor of Seattle has allowed roughly 105 homeless to shelter indoors until some kind of more permanent facility is located and made available.
While chatting with a couple of people about keeping warm I spotted a familiar looking young man getting a cup of coffee.
I remembered him, as he had led a tour of an outdoor shelter for me, when I brought a large contingent of high school kids to a Tent City camped on a church parking lot.
That visit with the kids culminated weeks of research, discussion, challenge and solution workshops on poverty and homelessness that I conducted in their school.
One of the reasons I remember Chris is because when he was asked why he was living in a tent on a church parking lot he told the kids that his dance with meth had ruined a number of opportunities for him.
He told them about his high school baseball career and his acceptance into a culinary school in San Francisco-all lost due to his need to purchase drugs.
He told them he was clean, and had been clean, for almost a year.
I saw him a couple of times after that tour.
When I didn't see him any longer I thought he'd pulled it together and left for better times.
I was saddened to see him again in a homeless facility.
I waved at him receiving a wave back in recognition.
As soon as I could disengage from the people I was talking with I wandered over to the coffee table to say hello.
We talked for about twenty minutes reliving our previous encounters and discussing what he thought about this new indoor facility named after the previous Mayor, who was less supportable to the challenges of the homeless.
I mentioned the "campers' were using a retired firehouse.
Here is what greats one interested enough to call on the shelter.
Imagine a huge common room with sleeping bags tossed down within inches of each other.
No personal space and no privacy.
The good thing is that there is a roof overhead, bathrooms and a kitchen.
None of these existed in their previous outdoor site, near the University campus.
Off the common room there are a number of small rooms adjacent to the large room.
They are also brimming with sleeping bags and what little personal affects one can carry.
During the day all the bags are rolled up neatly with personal items stored on top of the bag.
What many may not realize is that those with seniority with the camp have the right to set up a tent outside, within the fenced area.
This is done to offer the privacy that does not exist inside.
A pretty good deal as the "outsiders" have access to the amenities inside without having to continually interact.
While Chris and I were talking a couple of people carried in an artificial Christmas tree that had come out of the box pre decorated.
When they plugged it in a number of people gave cheers.
Chris looked at me saying, "Christmas, the worst time of year!" I knew what he was talking about as every memory available comes crashing in on all of us this time of year.
The good times-the bad times, the memorable and the forgetful, all wrapped up and served to us for weeks.
The non-stop hype to buy something for the person you love, combined with memory jarring music, rocks even those of us fortunate enough to have a place to call home.
Home - maybe Christmas is all about going home? Going back to those days when someone else protected, organized, loved and shared with you dreams of possibilities.
Whether those are true or fantasy memories depends on the person wandering back in time.
For many those possibilities never materialized.
For a growing population of homeless those memories, if they have positive memories, compound their sense of negative self worth.
That voice telling them that in some way they deserve what is happening to them.
They deserve to be alone and homeless, as they are not lovable.
Not lovable! Imagine integrating that feeling while leaning into the wind of Christmas cheer.
Chris talked about Christmases past with his mom.
He didn't give any details but his body language said it was a painful journey.
"My mom keeps asking me why a healthy 28 year old man keeps coming back into the system?" This is not the time for me to speak.
"Maybe I want to be free of anyone telling me what to do?" He said, reaching for a couple of chocolate chip cookies a volunteer had set on the table next to us.
It's ironic that the more people open their hearts to the homeless, lonely, isolated and abandoned the more some feel their isolation.
Of course there are exceptions.
Many have shared with me the desire to go to sleep before Thanksgiving waking up again on the 2nd of January.
"Living without love is existing - not living!"