Last Friday, we received a “yes” to open shelter for our neighbors. That very day, I was working to steady my thoughts, knowing how much effort lay ahead. I could have said, “I’m sorry, I have no options,” but something deeper kept nudging me forward.
Many don’t know the journey that brought me here. It began in the darkness of December 2022, while standing alongside Martha in the previously known, Tent City. It was dark, bitter, minus six with the windchill, in a strange place, surrounded by people my fear once labeled as “those people.” In that darkness, I was also forced to revisit my own story and face fears I had avoided for years.
That frozen night stripped everything down. I came face to face with mistakes I had buried and shame I thought I’d left behind. As fear rose and I genuinely wondered if I might not make it through the cold, I remembered something my Dad once said: God already knows everything you’ve done. Even the things you try to hide.
And then I heard Martha’s voice.
She knew their names. Every one of them. She knew which tent they lived in. She called out with tenderness and urgency, pleading for them to come inside, afraid they might not survive the night.
“Please,” she kept saying, “come in.”
That moment changed me. Standing in the cold, listening to someone pour themselves out for others, I understood something simple and powerful: when we show up for people who are hurting, light has a way of breaking through even the darkest places—often in us first.
Fast forward to this week. Two churches said yes.
During 4.5 hours indoors on both Saturday and Sunday, something unexpected unfolded.
Donations came in abundance. Kindness was overflowing. New community members asked how they could help, saying, “Where do I sign up to serve our neighbors?” Church members shared that their hearts were opening and began envisioning how their ministries could help. People were starting to see their neighbors differently, serving from transformed hearts.
In those hours, we offered warm shelter, food, hydration, clothing, conversation, connection, unconditional care, and a bit of hope to take another step forward. And somehow, my exhaustion was overtaken by joy—the kind that comes not from ease, but from doing what feels deeply right.
Every “yes,” every open door, every neighbor welcomed inside reminds me that transformation doesn’t always arrive loudly. Sometimes it begins quietly, with one person willing to step forward, and another willing to come in.
Thank you. Thank you. There are not enough words to describe our thanks – from our neighbors, our volunteers, and as an organization.
If something is stirring in your heart, maybe your “yes” is closer than you think—step forward and see what can happen.
With a grateful heart,
Cindy
Vice President
Milford Advocacy for the Homeless
