Happy (Changed) Camper!

CHANGE

Change tends to be difficult, and my changing from "spacious" Tillie the Turtle, my motorhome (and only home) for the past 9 years was no exception. I made the switch to TillieToo, or T2, at the end of September, and it has been a, well, difficult transition.

Change (almost, if ever) never happens the way you intend. I'm almost to the point of thinking "why plan?" since my best laid plans hit the shredder on a fairly regular basis. Despite my best efforts, downsizing, and planning for a smooth move, didn't make a difference. Friends had needs and unanticipated interruptions kept me from focusing on the task at hand.

But would I have focused had I not been otherwise distracted? I don't know. I suspect not.

I have the wherewithal--mental capacity, financial means, support network--to handle change, and yet I struggle with it. I can only wonder what happens when others, less endowed with ability and resources, get the "opportunity" to change tossed at them.

My inability to smoothly cope with change might serve as a clue to remind me that everyone struggles. I might need a bit more practice to grasp this concept. Maybe (!) I'm a slow learner.

After 3 months of struggling with a few major glitches in T2's inner operations (you don't want to know, trust me!), I did what I could do to get it fixed. It meant a trip to Austin, TX where the vehicle was outfitted. Luckily, they worked with me and addressed the problem.

Bunches of lessons to be learned from this time of change. The most basic that needs my entire attention is GRATITUDE. It flips the bad to not-so-bad, or even better. And sometimes that's all you can do with a bad set of circumstances.

So this happy camper will continue to pursue her mission of providing opportunities for families and youth experiencing homelessness to share their stories (www.hearus.us). I'll try to keep in mind my recent episodes with change and use that perspective when I might be tempted to be judgmental, a shortcoming that I continue to struggle with despite my best efforts.

And I'll be grateful for the little things in my life that work, or that push me to look at what needs to change. Yeah.

OK! Oklahoma Backroad Travel Gems

OK! Oklahoma Backroad Travel Gems
(musings and photos by Diane Nilan, © 2014)

I appreciate the value of the Interstate system, initiated by that last great Republican, Dwight D. Eisenhower in the 1950s. But I also love the secondary, and third-ary pavement, too. Why? Today was a perfect example of the BR advantage. Strong winds compromise a vehicle's stability, especially taller ones, like 9’ Tillie2. Instead of dodging lane neighbors, I enjoyed weaving over lines without playing bumper cars. And, the bonus, I could swing through interesting towns and muse. And photograph. And learn.

Today's treasure chest included this statuary combo in El Reno, OK, a bleak oil industry town west of OK City. I did a UE (much easier in T2) and took a few shots. I'm not sure what this collection is all about, but I would have loved to get the story. I'll have to use my imagination.  But this person sure got serious about Lady Liberty. And the sea...?

Chickasha, OK had plenty of fascinating eye-candy, but the Verden Separate School sign got my attention. The "best 1-room school house" for, you guessed it, black kids (though I'll bet that's not how they were referred to back then). The concept of separate schools still exists, aka many public schools, as well as the illegal but still functioning schools for homeless students.

Moseying south on, yup, a secondary road, I was treated to more authentic OK sights. It was a rainy/stormy day, inspiring me to pull off into a gas station parking lot. Viola! Bargain divorces, a conflict with the Sooner State's largely Christian values, I suspect, but I guess Christians need to save money, too, especially when families are splitting up.

Plenty of old (you may insert "dead") towns along the route. I did some reminiscing back to my Dr Pepper days (I was a contrarian as a kid, rejecting Coke). I think this sign hearkens back to the good ol' 50s when high fructose corn syrup hadn't been devised.  Seeing the ever-darkening skies, I started to move on, but, last moment, I glommed onto the visual of the flag and (humble) Christmas decoration. Now, I mused, if "Jesus is the reason for the season" as the saying goes. Why do we have such pathetic birthday decor? Couldn't a local oil baron who got rich ravaging the land and people donate some nice decorations for the Savior?   Just askin'...

Stuff. We Americans have stuff. Wonder how many "antique" stores sell our trash, er, stuff? This one at least took a clever approach, using humor to evoke a chuckle from this stuff-adverse tiny home driver. I didn't stop to shop.

To my ongoing point of the death of many of American towns, I will use Ryan, OK as an example with their empty sidewalks. Rest assured I could find thousands of others. And what's with this raggy flag, flying, of all places, at the Ryan American Legion hall?!

Continuing to pick on Ryan, they might want to reconsider the "No Trespassing Oklahoma" sign. Just a tad on the hostile side. But it got me to smile!

I'll pick on TX with my next post. Thanks for traveling along!

(12/14/14)

Butt Kicked. Slimmed Down. Ready to Roll.

The past 6 weeks of life in a slimmed-down motorhome have, in some ways, kicked my butt. In other ways, I’m delighted. I’ve learned a lot…

Space matters. Less space means less stuff and wiser decisions about what goes and what must be given away or gotten rid of, tougher decisions than I thought. I’ve also needed to spend time figuring out the jigsaw puzzle of space in a cabinet—how to not waste an inch. Phew.

Being slimmer makes travel nicer—no more worries about squeezing through construction barriers or navigating thick traffic, well, at least not the oversized concerns I had. Weird to be able to park without going through angst about where I might fit. 

Tillie the Turtle,
my original--larger--motorhome

Now that I’ve gotten sort of organized—to the point of even getting my simple decor stuck on my limited wall space—I’ve got to say I’m happy that I’ve downsized. It goes beyond my ability to bypass gas stations and my marvel at filling up for $60-70.

TillieToo has pushed from my comfort level into a different space, with my awareness of how much I have (beyond what I need to survive). It’s a perfect opportunity for me to ramp up my gratitude.

We’re heading towards our national obsession with distorting holidays originally designed as times to to be kind and grateful—Thanksgiving and Christmas. 

No matter our religious persuasion (or lack thereof), we can take a few moments to absorb the reality that lots of people in our country and beyond are doing without even the basics. 

No matter our financial standing (or lack thereof), we can do something, at least consider with compassion the plight of millions in our country and the world who lack a safe place to sleep, food to eat, or access to medical care. If we’re able to do more than be aware and kind, even better!

I’m looking forward to the unknown challenges ahead. My nomadic lifestyle gives me opportunities for “afflicting the comfortable and comforting the afflicted” that I take as a personal challenge, even when my comfort is a tad less than I’d like it to be.

Thanks to my Mom, Ellie, whose passing in May 2013 made this phase of my journey possible. You’re laughing, me driving a Mercedes. Well, I’m laughing, too. I get to zoom past gas stations!

Weird, Wonderful Disconnect

Internet, ubiquitous, except when it’s not. 

Little Tillie2 (rt)

After a hectic surge of preparing to disconnect from Tillie, my home-motorhome of 9 years, anticipating with some anxiety the acquisition of TillieToo, my new motorhome of smaller dimensions, and preparing for 2 talks and delivering 1 (one sabotaged by weather travel reality), I was ready for a new normal. 

Instead, I landed in a place where I’ll have very limited internet for a week, at a time I think I need it most.

My anxiety when not able to access internet in my travels has been off the charts. Now I don’t have phone or internet. 

The offsetting factor, being with a friend and her sister and their dogs in a peaceful, beautiful haven in the New Mexico mountains. 

Internet access is possible, but requires deliberate action as opposed to grabbing a device and hopping into the swirl.

My only news is what I absorb from the frenzied flow of TV news that gets turned on once in a while. My dismay at the choice of stories is only matched by listening to the blaring TV political ads and the warning-ladened pharmaceutical ads.

My world is different for a week, a change of pace that makes me appreciate what I take for granted. It’s hard, as hard as these kind of things can be in the scope of real world crises. I catch myself thinking more. Not sure if that’s a good thing, but it’s what we’re created to do. 

My friend commented about her fear that we will soon hit the wall when the techno-gurus run out of answers and solutions for the swarms of tech terrorism that seems to be out of control. I wish I could present a counter argument. 

In the meantime, I’ll clean my hard drive, a task that doesn’t happen when I’m so easily distracted by realtime online action. I’ll make time for hikes and talking with people. I’ll tweak the crammed storage in Tillie2, preparing for my first travel companion, Pat LaMarche, on our ambitious Babes of Wrath trip to Montana, Homeless On the Range. 

Life, ubiquitous, when you let it be.  

Loss, Presence and Presents

While I’m not a packrat in general, you could probably accuse me of being a wall-pack rat. 

I can remember my bedroom when I was 12 or so, every possible inch covered with posters of Dr. Kildare/Richard Chamberlin and Peanuts characters. My decorative trait stuck with me.

So it’s no surprise that Tillie, my motorhome for the past 9 years, has been decorated inside and out to make a statement. Outside, my HEAR US presence—the blatant reminder that over 1.7 million kids are homeless in the US. Inside, well, a more personal statement to/about me, the (mostly) lone occupant. 

I'm in the process of further downsizing, with Tillie2 being readied for my next round of travel. And I'm selling Tillie, hopefully soon, to be ready for my new, more concise, fuel-efficient wheels due to arrive by the end of August. So strip the walls I must...but not without plenty of reflection. 

Perhaps the image I turned to most was this—a photo I had taken of a hot air balloon with a quote that has continued to remind me that what I’m doing makes sense despite moments of despair. 

It is simple. We are where we should be, doing what we should be doing, otherwise we’d be somewhere else doing something else…. (anonymous) 

Yup, I needed reminders like that. I’ve spent these last years doing what even I thought was crazy—chronicling the dreadful (and growing) reality of family and youth homelessness in America, the country that used to inspire nations to want to be like the U.S.

But I digress…this is a personal blog, not one for my societal rants. 

Here's a clip (CLICK here 3-min video) of my inside mementos that kept me company because some of you might be curious (and because I won't be able to display them in Tillie2). But let me comment on just a few of the images and items....

In my first not-knowing-what-the-hell-I-was-doing year, 2005-06, I interviewed 75 kids from across the country. I asked them to share what it was like to not have a home, and what school meant to them.  

A 7-year-old girl named Lacey had plenty to say. Trouble was, fledgling filmmaker that I was, I didn't have the wherewithal to keep the camera pointed in the right direction and rolling. I did get lucky, and for anyone who’s seen My Own Four Walls, my documentary, you can recall her saying “I have to make new friends,” and her unmistakably sad sigh. 

Lacey gave me her heart, well, just half of it. It’s a rubbery thing probably out of a vending machine. It says “Best” and the other half, which she kept, says “Friend.” She's 16 now. Wonder what her life has been like?

The other part of this task that got to me was pulling down the photos in my bedroom. Head shots of special people were clothes pinned to a draped string on 3 sides of the room. Family. Friends. Personal. 

As I unclipped and dusted each one, I held that person in my heart. Some—my Mom, Dad, and sis Patty, along with Aunt Catherine and cousin Christi—have died. Some are struggling with heavy stuff. Some are doing OK. I felt connected with spirits of all, dead and alive.

My life has been pretty soft compared to many people I know. My heart has been dinged by loss enough so I can at least, I hope, relate to—or at least bear witness to—the vast sadnesses of my houseless, disenfranchised sisters and brothers along my path. 

I’m gearing up for Tillie2 and my next unknown route. I’ve learned lots more than I can express in these past years of incredible experiences and travel. I’ve been loved much more than I (sometimes) think I deserve. I’ve grown from a nomad to a pilgrim. 

To journey without being changed, is to be a nomad. To change without journeying is to be a chameleon. To journey and to be transformed by the journeying is to be a pilgrim.  Mark Nepo 

One thing I’ve figured out—I don’t know what’s ahead. But I do know it will be interesting, and worthwhile. So, please travel along with me…if you can stand doing Facebook you’ll get the daily update (and more, which you can pass over or not). 

Your presence is important…to me and to those whose hope is desperately attached to the possibility that our nation, our communities, ourselves, will move toward the ideal that everyone needs a place to call home. 

Tillie: Tithe Your Way to Good Karma--Buy Me!

You may know me as Tillie TheTurtle, Diane’s alter ego on Facebook. 

I’m here to let you know what’s behind my being “retired” and what you might consider doing to help this happen so my transition is good for all involved.  

No, I’m not sick/dying. I’ve got lots of life left in me, as Mike, my “doctor”/mechanic will attest. True, I’ve aged in the past 183,000 miles, but nothing major…a few scrapes and blemishes, idiosyncrasies that come with aging, but I can still roll with the best of ‘em! 

Take a look at these photos to see what I mean. 

And no, Diane isn’t giving up her life on the road, her incredible, unique and effective HEAR US Inc. mission to give voice and visibility to homeless children and youth. She’s found a younger, more svelte companion for her journey. I can’t blame her. She’s got places to go and things to do, and my, um, “holiness” has been slightly problematic, as has my voracious appetite.  

She likes going where it’s cold,
and I don’t keep her warm.

I have to admit that I didn’t keep her warm in those brutal winter days because of my porous nature. And she’s figured out, thanks to my tutelage, that “less is more” when it comes to stuff. She’ll be OK, and will be able to continue traveling cross-country to create awareness of and compassion toward homeless kids.

“Tillie2” will be slimmer, smaller and won’t eat as much. Yeah, I know she’ll miss me and my abundant storage, my creature comforts, and my (now stripped) visual presence.

So, now that they’ve removed the blatant reminders that kids are homeless, signs that grabbed the attention of passing travelers, my boss needs to sell me. But she’s figured out a way to do this that will help homeless families. 

And we both know that I’m a Karma Queen—every moment of my existence has been to do good. We figure that counts for a bunch. 

To make this purchase even more enticing, Diane will tithe 10% of my purchase price to either your/her favorite homeless family shelter. Here’s the link to the basic info you’ll need to know. 

Yup. The buyer and Diane will agree on a purchase price. The buyer writes a check for 10% of the agreed-upon price and donates it to a program sheltering homeless families (she knows some excellent ones if the buyer doesn’t), and Diane will deduct that donation from the final purchase price. Tithing and good karma plus you get me, a 27’ motorhome that will give you lots of great camping experiences!

My replacement, Tillie2, is getting readied and will be available at the end of August, in time to get prepped and ready for September travel. The way time flies we don’t have much time. Diane has a place to temporarily stay once she lets me go, so my new owner can acquire me any time before that.

Check out my photos on the HEAR US website. (Check out the fine work we’ve been doing, too!) You can contact Diane for more information. If you’re in the northern Illinois area, you can arrange a visit. 

Tillie Retiring (4 Sale); Tillie2 Stepping In

We all need to kick back and take it easy after giving it all we've got. So too with motorhomes.

As you may know, my home/office/vehicle for the past 9 years has been Tillie the Turtle, a 27' Gulfstream motorhome. (I refuse to call it a recreational vehicle, or "RV" because recreation has been sorely lacking.) I've lived in it, mostly solo, the whole time except for a handful of days when I was out of the country or had to fly to a city when Tillie-travel was impossible.

In the soon to be 10 years of HEAR US Inc., I've traversed this country's backroads (whenever possible avoiding interstates) to chronicle the plight and promise of homeless families and youth. That will continue.

I'm not going to use this post to rattle off all that has been accomplished since I first climbed behind the wheel in November 2005. Take a look at the HEAR US website for more on that.

My RV-ing experience prior to Day 1 was ZERO. This was a HUGE leap of faith for me. But it's been a grand ride...one that is going to continue in an exciting way. But now I'm selling Tillie. Here's a link to a PDF flyer with the details.

To be clear, I purchased and maintained Tillie with my own funds. HEAR US paid for my gas for work-related travel, almost 100% of the 183,000+ miles. My mechanic can vouch for the condition of this vehicle. I'm happy to talk to people seriously interested in buying it, and appreciate if you spread the word. I can sell Tillie out from under me because I have a place to stay and keep my stuff temporarily.

So, now what?

My traveling days for HEAR US will continue as long as it makes sense to do what I do, give voice and visibility to homeless children and youth. I've gotten plenty of feedback that the unique mission I've pursued over the past 10 years is extremely important. My passion burns, even deeper.

But I'm downsizing. Yup, my living/working space will be reduced by about 30%. In return for the "lean, mean" look, I'll be doubling gas mileage, in a vehicle created to be as environmentally friendly as possible while still providing the motorhome for me to live/work out of, albeit with considerably less space.

It's a Sprinter van, used by police departments, FedEx, and countless companies as a delivery or service van. It's shorter, thinner, and uses diesel fuel. It also will be better constructed, including the insulation to protect me from extreme temperatures. And I'll have solar panels to bolster my electricity supply.

I'm in the process of prioritizing my belongings, weeding out the excess, and figuring out how to live more efficiently, a challenge I'm ready for (much more so than when I went from my 1,100 sq. ft. townhouse to Tillie, with roughly 150 sq. ft. of living space). And I'm paying for this vehicle, too.

Since the name Tillie has gained some notoriety, I'm just calling the new vehicle Tillie2. I'm beginning the transition process, awaiting delivery of the customized vehicle. I was able to eliminate the features I don't use (knowing what I'm doing after almost 10 years of full-timing), like the furnace, coach AC, propane tank, and awning. I'm getting tinted windows, a better insulated floor, and, well, less living space.

I'll take pics and share them. Just wanted my friends to know what's up and to maybe connect me with a buyer. I'm busy sorting through stuff, giving much away, shuffling through papers to go paperless, and then I'll travel down to Austin, TX to take possession of this new dream mobile sometime mid-August.

Now I know how Dale Evans felt about her horse, Buttermilk. Putting Tillie out to pasture...it's time, old friend....

What Does HEAR US Do?

A good friend asked a legitimate question: What will HEAR US do with the money you're trying to raise? 

I looked at our website, as if for the first time. Even though I created it. Hmmm. The mission statement,

The HEAR US mission is to
...give voice and visibility to homeless children and youth...
HEAR US...
> produces poignant films and books that are used by educators, social service personnel and other audiences to call attention to the invisible crisis of millions of families with children and young people who struggle without a place to call home;
>addresses audiences at conferences, university and college students, and a variety of gatherings to foster a greater understanding of homelessness;
> facilitates media connections for homeless families/youth, and is quite active on social media, shining a light on the need to repair the torn safety net that leaves millions--babies, toddlers, school kids, teens and young adults, and adults-- on the streets.

This gets at the general idea of what we do. And I have always been reluctant to be specific, for good reason I think.

To better understand, let me explain one thing. HEAR US Inc. (www.hearus.us), a national nonprofit, is a VERY unique nonprofit. I've been part of the nonprofit world (my bio, PDF) since the mid-80s. And I know that mission statements and goals/objectives are part of the landscape of the millions (?) of nonprofits scrambling for support. But, HEAR US is different. How?

Well, pretty well no one does what "we" -- I, the sole employee -- do. Having spent more than the past quarter century working with homeless families, youth and adults, I've heard bazillion times some form of: Homeless kids (families)?? I didn't know we had any! ... Aren't all homeless kids in foster care? ... They just live in big cities, like NYC, Chicago... and so on. HEAR US responds to that significant gap in awareness in a variety of ways.

IMPORTANT (short) HISTORY
I've worked very intensely with schools grappling with the reality of homeless students in their midst since way back in 1990. I've advocated with countless families/youth so they could get into school. I've seen educators' lack of understanding. And I've been deeply involved with successful efforts to change laws to better serve homeless families and youth.

And I chose to toss my life to the wind in 2005 (the year HEAR US was formed) to make sure more people, especially school personnel, would have more awareness of and sensitivity to kids and families in homeless situations. And in the process, to be flexible enough to be involved with relevant advocacy efforts, respond to a local crisis, or lead the charge for an invisible, essential cause.

I sold my townhouse and got rid of most of my stuff, purchased (with my own funds) a small motorhome to serve as my home/office/wheels, and set out to do what I had never done before, make a documentary of kids sharing what their experience of homelessness was like and what school meant to them. That film, My Own Four Walls, is now the best training film ever for schools. (the 4-min trailer, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fbSgzEQJXs8 )

Because of how things work, I was able to connect with Professor Laura Vazquez, a documentary maker at Northern Illinois University. She and I teamed up to make the feature-length documentary, on the edge: Homeless Families in America,  which has won many film awards and has been shown on PBS.

I've made lots of other short films, too many to mention, that help homeless kids and families. I've given countless presentations from Congress to Cub Scout leaders. I've advocated for families who've contacted me with a problem related to their homelessness that no one else seemed to be able to help with. I've rattled cages of politicians and policymakers. I've "comforted the afflicted and afflicted the comfortable"  by my writing, my social action, and my presence.

TODAY
It's not quite as haphazard as it seems. It's just hard to know how to say what this matching grant of $10,000 will be used. My board will tell you I'm frugal to a fault, so it won't be wasted.

It will keep me doing what I do...being that sometimes lone voice in the wilderness that is focused on making sure homeless kids and families don't get lost in the shuffle. My entire being is dedicated to that. And I "suffer" for taking the unconventional path of not having a well-defined, specific mission statement.

But those who know me know I won't give up doing what I'm doing or let myself be defined by a funder's priorities (when they differ from our mission). To sum up, what the money will do will help me continue to

• Advocate
• Chronicle
• Educate and otherwise 
• Respond 

to poverty issues as they affect the millions of homeless children and their parents/guardians, and unaccompanied youth who are too often invisible and underserved. That's it! I'm an ACER!

And I'm deeply appreciative of the people who continue to believe in what I do...because it's a mission bigger than me. Without you (that supporter who believes in me), I am nothing.

Water, Water Everywhere...Connects Us

Drip, drip, drip from the showerhead that I turned off. I’m far enough away from the damned Dan River, teeming with coal ash untended, but that catastrophe drips from my showerhead.

I feel connected, painfully so at times, to people I don’t know, like the thousands of water-abused Charleston, WV citizens, or the folks downriver from the latest—but not last—enviro-disaster on the border of NC and VA, those poisoned by the wanton release of highly toxic coal ash on the Dan River; or the millions of invisible homeless kids and adults, some of whom I’ve encountered through my HEAR US journeys, many more I’ve not. I could go on and on and on….

What good does it do to connect mentally with the suffering of others?

For me, such connections can lead to my development of empathy, a trait cleverly presented in this short, delightful KarmaTube video.

Such connections keep us, well, connected, rather than isolated and smug. Empathy, much better than sympathy, requires work, as I’m reminded of all too often.

My shower-meditation is one way I exercise my heart. I try to become micro-aware of a few common things in my daily routine and mentally connect with the people responsible—the person in the (likely) sweatshop who sewed my jeans, the farmworker who picked the mangoes I enjoy, the steelworker who processed the stainless steel that became my coffee pot.

The ills of our modern world can topple even the hardiest soul. My work over the years with homeless families, youth, and single adults has, I hope, ground down the nastiest parts of my personality, leaving a coarse, but improving, sense of compassion, or so I’d like to think. Listening. Seeing. Weeping. Laughing. Fuming. Writing. Filming. Photographing. Thinking. Never enough. But if it’s all I can do, I’ll do it.

As I shove off from a working “sabbatical” spent with my wheels parked for most of the past 3 months, I know I’ll be immersed in the equivalent of toxic ash spills. My mettle will be tested. I will massage my empathic abilities. I will aim my outrage at injustice to those who disregard the humanity of the have-nots.

I know we as society can, and must, do better. But that boils down to me. I must do better. With the steady drip, drip, drip of compassion from deep within, I’ll connect with those in my path, doing whatever I can to ease the injustice of poverty. That’s my plan.

Not My Problem Mentality vs. Compassion

Having spent more time in brutal winter weather zones this year than I have since I bolted out of Illinois in 2005 for my nomadic life under the HEAR US banner, I am getting the reality therapy that millions of others regularly cope with during these blasts of winter.

I haven't forgotten what it's like to gasp at the subzero temps that get bolstered by north winds. Well, I sorta forgot, but my trip to MN in early December cured my amnesia.

What lingers in my frost-bitten head, however, is the awareness that I have so much when it comes to options for escaping winter's brutality, and so many have so little.

My house-on-wheels, aka Tillie, is a fine way to live small, except for the extremes of heat and cold. Though I'm parked at my sister/brother-in-law's house in the mountains of western NC, I'm still sleeping in Tillie, Maybe it's just a meager attempt at solidarity with the freezing masses. I could sleep inside. But the discomfort of the cold mornings when I have to crawl out from the warm down comforter keeps it real for me.

I find myself wondering about the millions of households struggling to pay for heat in its various forms. I know even more households have scant protection from the various forms of "polar vortexes" that vex us. And then we have the millions of kids and adults with no place to call home. Sigh.

Solidarity breeds compassion. And for sure we need more compassion. How do we get that? Well, this recent post, Cultivating Compassion, offers suggestions. One in particular that I like is mindfulness:

Fortunately, we also have the skills to reconcile the old brain with the new. One of them is a technique that we call mindfulness—moment-to-moment awareness of thoughts and feelings. That is, we have the capacity to be aware of awareness, and to simply observe and become familiar with the tricks our minds play on us.

Take the cold as a practical example. Can mindfulness bring the realities of others' sufferings closer to our hearts? I'd like to think so. And it leaves plenty of room for action--whether it's donating gently-used coats to a local shelter, sharing soup with an elderly neighbor, paying a family's heat bill for the month, or being nice to a worker who spends too much time in the weather. On our HEAR US website, we have a Compassion Epidemic  section with all kinds of suggestions for extending compassion beyond your doors.

I'm more than anxious for winter to take a hike. But I'm trying to "woman-up" to the reality that chills my bones. I'm not suffering, but many do. My challenge--what am I going to do about it?