2025-04-16 ON THE WAY HOME by Emma Knox—After Theater class, I stopped at the bus stop near Flatbush to wait on my ride home. There was a man sittin’ there, wearing way too much clothes for the weather. It was around 50°F, but it looked like he was wearing… well, everything he owned.
Shirt, jacket, coat, hat, gloves. Shoes, but no socks.
I been volunteering with a church’s homeless program that’s near the ‘partments. I knew right away that he wasn’t waiting on the bus.
Most folks prob’ly don’t know that folks living on the street regularly need a few things the rest of us take for granted. Socks and underwear get dirty and wear out first. Shelters are always in need of them, and bath supplies, too.
I sat down beside him; I knew he wasn’t cold—he just didn’t have no place else to keep what he owned, so he had it all on. He didn’t seem to have a bundle or anything else.
And, he was tired. Not just his body. He was tired in a deeper way. A soul-tired sort of tired.
He looked up and asked, “You just get outta school?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I’m takin’ classes nearby. Theater, actually.”
He smiled a little. “You an actress?”
“Tryin’ to be,” I said. “Mostly I just tell stories an’ hope somebody hears ’em.”
He told me he used to sing in a gospel group—back in Memphis. That caught me a little off guard.
“Memphis?” I said. “My people are from Vicksburg. My daddy was a tenant farmer down there… ’bout poor as you can be in that part of Mississippi.”
He nodded like he knew what that meant. We talked for a while—about gospel music, and dirt roads, and what it’s like when folks stop seein’ you.
Before I left, I helped him find a shelter a few blocks away that still had space. Then I caught the Q train and went home.
And I just kept thinkin’—maybe helpin’ somebody feel seen is part of the story too.
—Emma
2025-04-16 REFLECTION by Emma Knox—I been thinkin’ about him ever since I got home. The man from the bus stop.
I didn’t even ask his name. Maybe that was a mistake. Or maybe it was okay. I didn’t want him to feel like he owed me anything.
But I can’t stop wonderin’ how he is now. If he felt okay in the shelter. If somebody there sat beside him and talked. An’ listened.
I keep learnin’ that feelin’ seen is one of the biggest things a person can give. Not fixin’ everything. Not solving their whole life. Just not walkin’ past them like they’re invisible.
Anyway, I’m grateful he talked to me. I’ll probably carry that conversation for a long time.
—Emma
2025-04-17 MORNING LIGHT—I slept okay last night, but my heart stayed full.
The man from the bus stop—he stayed in my thoughts. I kept hopin’ he got a warm spot and maybe even a kind word or two. It’s strange how someone can pass through your life for ten minutes but stay with you long after.
I opened my Bible this morning and found myself in Proverbs again. “Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves…” It hit different today.
I don’t think I’ll ever know what happened to him after we said goodbye—but I’ll swing by the shelter next time I’m over there for the bus and ask the staff. They might be able to tell me something.
But, for sure, I hope he remembers that somebody saw him. That somebody cared.
That’s what I wanna carry into today.
—Emma
2025-04-17 LITTLE THINGS by Emma Knox—Finished Math class, and back near the ‘partments, headin’ to the theater. It’s cloudy but not too cold—just coat weather. I like that.
Been thinkin’ more this mornin’ about how little acts of kindness might mean way more to the person you give ’em to than you realize.
Sometimes I wonder if I’ve ever said or done somethin’ small that stuck with somebody for years without me knowin’. I kinda hope I have.
That man from yesterday... it didn’t feel like a big deal, sittin’ with him. But now, I keep prayin’ he felt seen. I hope he felt human.
You never really know what your presence might mean in a moment like that.
Anyway—off to work. I’ll carry that thought with me.
—Emma
2025-04-18 FRIDAY AFTERNOON by Emma Knox—Hey y’all… anyone remember this swing from last summer? 🌳 It feels like a whole lifetime since then. So much has changed. I’ve changed.
I was sittin’ here a few minutes ago just thinkin’… and I got a message from @ailana.geven. She said she saw my post about the man at the bus stop and it stuck with her. Said she wants to talk tomorrow—just hear more about it and maybe see what can be done.
I don’t know what’ll come of it, but it made me feel like maybe the little things we share do matter. Not just to the people close by, but to folks farther away too.
Anyway, I’m gonna finish sittin’ here a while. It’s good to be still sometimes.
—Emma
2025-04-19 Saturday
(Ailana Geven) GOOD MORNING —The light was barely breaking over the marina when I got ambushed. In a loving way. It was Geoni and she had an idea!
I was only half dressed—I only had my jeans on—when Geoni literally grabbed my wrist, handed me this robe, and said, “No excuses, you have to come out and let me catch this light.” She wasn’t wrong. The water looked like melted gold, the air was still, and everything just felt soft and slow. She snapped the photo before I could talk myself out of it. That’s friendship.
Yesterday, after seeing some posts from Emma Knox (@emma.knox.1861) about her work with a homeless man in Brooklyn, I sent her a quick message—just a check-in, really. It’s been a while since we’ve talked one-on-one, and her post reminded me how deeply she cares. I’m going to call her later today. I think we both could use the connection.
But first—Tuscawilla Park. The whole crew is heading there this morning for some nature time. After a busy Friday, it feels right to ground ourselves in something calm and green before the day fully ramps up.
Wherever you are, may your Saturday start gently and hold something beautiful.
(Ailana Geven) TUSCAWILLA PARK—Hello friends! Today’s adventure brings us to Tuscawilla Park here in Daytona Beach. It’s a peaceful Saturday, and this place is perfect for a little walk, a lot of quiet, and a whole bunch of reflection.
The park itself has been around for over a century and was once part of the original city plan in the late 1800s. Spanish moss drapes the massive oaks, the sidewalks wind gently through wide lawns, and there’s a pond just beyond the trees with ducks that act like they own the place. Honestly, I don’t blame them.
In a little bit, I’m going to call Emma Knox (@emma.knox.1861). I texted her yesterday after seeing her post about the homeless man in New York who just needed someone to listen. Then this morning, I saw a news headline about working people—folks with full-time jobs—who still live in shelters. It stopped me cold. I want to learn more.
Well, I suppose I need to close this out… We’re all headed to 31 Supper Club tonight for dinner, so I’ll probably say goodnight from there.
See you then!
2025-04-20 Sunday || Easter In Daytona ||
(Ailana Geven) GOOD MORNING—Good morning, friends. There’s something especially peaceful about quiet moments and a warm cup of coffee on Easter Sunday.
I do have a surprise to share—one I think some of you might not expect. And… one some of you probably are expecting!
Wedding? No, not that!
Yesterday, I talked to Emma Knox, who lives in Brooklyn. NYC is experiencing something of a tragic problem with homelessness. People with good jobs cannot afford safe housing.
Also, yesterday, Jason’s dad called. It’s never come up, but Jason’s dad (Pastor Dave Keller) moved a while ago from NW Indiana to Gulfport, Mississippi where he’s sort of semi-retired.
There’s a church there that fills up in the summer when people are in their vacation homes. Jason’s dad is the part-time pastor.
In the winter, just mostly retirees and other locals, and they meet in the “small” chapel (holds about 250). Jason’s dad asked if it were possible Jason could come for a few days to visit and help him open the big sanctuary (that holds about 500) for the summer.
So… This afternoon, I’m flying to New York. Jason is flying toward Gulfport. And “Savannah’s Charm” will set sail for Miami, where the other four will hang out until we catch up with them next weekend!
So that’s the plan for the week to come! But, for now, I should get ready. We are going to church, of course.
See you soon!
2025-04-21 Monday || Arrived In NYC ||
(Ailana Geven) GOOD MORNING—It’s okay. Emma said I could rob blankets from all the beds in the complex if I wanted to. I’m in one of the dorm units of the apartments here in Brooklyn. This week, I’ll be looking at the rising issue of homelessness in NYC.
I’m going to try to keep my posts shorter, hoping more people will read them! But I guess that will be a challenge… you know me!
Emma Knox (@emma.knox.1861) and I will be meeting for coffee in a little while. She’s going to tell me about the homeless ministry where she volunteers.
Next, I’m going over to Manhattan to meet Hannah Madison (@Hannah.Madison.2002), Emma’s roommate. She’s an engineer for a firm and she’s going to share some data on the overall picture of how things are.
But, I’ve also talked some of those who live in Tom Jenkins’s American Heritage Apartments into a little night-time outing! You’ll see that as my goodnight.
I’m planning on being here through Sunday, then I’ll fly to Miami to catch up with the rest of the AGI Stories staff. (Jason will meet us there, too—he went to Gulfport Mississippi to help his dad get the sanctuary opened up for the summer crowds.)
Thanks for being part of my adventures. See you soon!
(Ailana Geven) BASICS NEEDED—I’m having coffee with Emma Knox (@emma.knox.1861), and we are talking about how small acts can make a real difference—especially for folks experiencing homelessness.
I asked her about the church ministry she volunteers with, and she told me something simple but powerful:
“Most people wouldn’t dream of going without the basics. But a lot of our guests come in after sleeping rough or staying in crowded shelters. They just want to feel human again. Clean. Safe. Like they matter.”
She went on to explain what the church tries to keep stocked: soap, shampoo, toothbrushes, toothpaste, deodorant, washcloths, bath towels, socks, and underwear. Feminine hygiene products, razors, shaving cream, and even laundry detergent and quarters for laundromats are always needed—but often run out fast.
“If someone’s got a job interview or just wants to walk into a place with dignity,” she said, “being clean can make all the difference. It’s not about vanity. It’s about worth.”
Even things like nail clippers, combs, lotion, and lip balm go a long way when you’ve been without them for too long.
I told her about my own experience in a shelter—and how hard it was to feel like I was still “me.” She nodded. She gets it.
So here’s my little rant: I know life is busy. There’s practices, school prjects, dinner, errands, and all the rest. I’m not asking you to rearrange everything.
But maybe, as you shop, just grab a few extras. Bars of soap. A 2-pack of deodorant. Socks. A bag of razors. Whatever fits.
Don’t have time to drop it off? Find the shelter’s name, call ahead, and ask for someone on staff. Then send it directly from Amazon. Ivory soap is less than a dollar a bar!
Let’s do something small. For someone who needs to feel like they matter.
(Ailana Geven) VIEW OF THE PROBLEM—I hurried over to Manhattan to meet with Hanah Madison (@hannah.madison.2022). She tapped some of the data bases her engineering firm can access to share info about the housing issues in NYC.
So, here’s my shot at summing it all up.
Homelessness in New York City is getting worse. Even people with steady jobs are struggling to find a place to live. Teachers, service workers, and city employees are among those who can't afford housing, and some are turning to shelters because they're the only option.
The cost of living in NYC is super high, and it's making it hard for people to afford even the basics. Many can't save up for deposits, leases, or a place big enough for their families. There just aren't enough affordable housing units to go around.
Organizations like the Coalition for the Homeless, Project Renewal, and Breaking Ground are working hard to help those in need. They're providing emergency shelters, food, and other services to people who are struggling.
What makes this moment particularly sobering is the blurred line between housed and unhoused. The assumption that homelessness only affects the chronically unemployed no longer holds. Today, it is a crisis that touches people who serve our communities—those who care for others, teach children, or maintain our infrastructure.
This is not a story of failure, but of urgency. It is an opportunity to listen, respond, and advocate—for housing that is dignified, accessible, and within reach for all.
See you then!
(Ailana Geven) GOODNIGHT—I’m at Liberty State Park. There’s a reason I wanted to say goodnight from here.
No, I’m not out here alone. I conscripted Emma, Merritt, Hannah, Kent, Addison, and Jacob to join me. Safety and all that…
I’m in NYC exploring the rising homeless problem and learning from some great people who live here, who see it every day. Along the way today, someone said that there should be a way to help people get freed from homelessness.
Freed. Freedom. Liberty. (See what I did there?)
In NYC, we’re seeing that homelessness is not always connected to joblessness. It is related to the gap between income and stable living arrangements. The problem is not lack of money.
But, right now, I want to springboard from that idea to something somewhat related. It’s an idea Dad taught me when I was learning to drive back in NW Indiana.
He came in from payday and handed me $20. “Don’t spend it. Keep it. In a safe place wherever you go.”
“What’s it for, then?”
“It’s options. Money doesn’t make you happy. It gives you the choices. Just knowing you have $20 means you COULD buy that whatever-it-is, even though you don’t need it. And knowing you could means something. You need to be content with knowing you could. Money gives you choices, and choices… well the more choices you have, the more free you are.”
I asked what that meant.
“Debt is slavery,” he said. “Being in debt means you have to earn an income, whether you want to or not. You give up the choice of how you’ll use your time.”
Somewhere in my musing is, I hope, a connection to what I’m doing this week. Maybe this is it.
When you use your resources to help those who have no resources, you are, in part, giving them freedom. Liberating them from their circumstances and giving them a lift.
Goodnight.
2025-04-22 Tuesday : || Behind The Crisis ||
(Ailana Geven) GOOD MORNING—I spared the linens, but stole one of the guy’s shirts for this picture. It might be Kent’s; Emma was doing laundry for the guys. After this coffee, I’m hitting the streets.
Homelessness is a huge problem in the world. In NYC, it’s estimated that there are around 90,000 homeless people. In Brooklyn, there’s like 17,000.
Counting homeless people is challenging. Sometimes, they are trying to stay under the radar. But NYC provides shelter for over 80,000 people each night. The rest…
Well, I’m going to rent a car and just see if I can find some people. I’d like to get away from the math, forget the numbers, and have a look at the people.
Please… watch for my midday post around noon New York time. I’ll try to have something meaningful to share.
(Ailana Geven) SOMEONE’S STORY—Hi friends. I’m in Brooklyn today, and I want to share a quiet moment that meant a lot to me. Forget the numbers and statistics for a minute. This crisis involves people.
I sat for a while with a woman named Marlene who is currently living under an overpass just a few blocks from where I took this photo. She was open to talking, and I mostly just listened.
Marlene is 68. Just five years ago, she had a job managing a bakery in Flatbush and rented a little studio she loved. But the shop closed during the pandemic, and after a cascade of bills, her savings were gone. She never thought she’d end up sleeping on a bench, or under scaffolding when it rains. But here she is.
And here’s what struck me: her story isn’t the only one like that. Homelessness happens for a lot of reasons. A medical emergency. A lost job. A rent hike. A death in the family. A mistake. A thousand quiet moments adding up to one hard truth: not everyone has a place to go.
There are no simple fixes, and I don’t pretend to have answers. But maybe the first step is listening. Seeing. Honoring the fact that each person without a home still has a name, a story, and worth.
(Ailana Geven) GOODNIGHT—Downtime with the girls. Cocoa. Cookies. And talking about boys like we were teenagers!
Okay, so Emma was a teenager… until March. But… all the same.
We talked about the men in our lives. We… speculated on what being married was like, and they acted like I should know better than them (because, they said, I was older—and I suppose I am, but…)
There were laughs and some deep thoughts, too. I don’t think we came to any conclusions, but I’m pretty sure they are a lot closer to picking out a dress than I am. They said they were essentially sure, but just waiting until what seemed like an acceptable amount of time had passed. It’s only been a few month’s for them.
But… they have done the “meet the parents” thing. So, there’s that!
So a hot chocolate toast to the future and an extra cookie for good luck!
May you find joy in all that you do. May you prosper greatly, becoming able to give back to others who are in need.
Goodnight.
2025-04-23 Wednesday : || Beyond Belief ||
(Ailana Geven) GOOD MORNING—Wednesday has come. I’ve got an appointment today at a homeless shelter—and if I’m honest, just thinking about it strips the smile from my face.
Some of you read past the first line, and I want to thank you. Because today’s midday post defies everything that seems sensible: people in NYC holding steady jobs… but unable to afford stable housing. So they live in shelters—if they’re lucky.
Living in cars? Yes, that happens too.
But this isn’t about the chronically jobless. These are people who work. They just don’t have homes.
Please watch for my midday post. I’m visiting a center in the Bronx that’s trying to change that.
(Ailana Geven) WORKING BUT HOMELESS—Today I visited Reaching New Heights, an employment shelter in the Bronx. What I saw was both humbling and heartbreaking: people with full-time jobs who still can’t afford a place to live.
Some drive city buses. Others stock shelves, clean parks, cook, serve, guard, build—and teach. One woman at LaGuardia Airport walks to work before dawn, directing passengers to their gates with a smile, then returns to sleep in a shelter.
How is it possible that someone making $50,000 a year is still homeless? The truth is, housing costs in NYC have outpaced wages. According to city data, about a third of all families in shelters (excluding new migrants) include at least one working adult.
These aren’t people in crisis due to addiction or untreated mental illness—though those needs matter, too. These are your coworkers. Your baristas. Your kids’ teaching assistants. They’re doing what society has told them to do: show up, work hard, try to get ahead.
But there just aren’t enough affordable apartments. Rent is too high. Vouchers are hard to qualify for and even harder to use. Some people are even forced to reduce their income just to stay eligible for help.
I met Marlene yesterday. She’s 68. Not long ago she managed a small bakery in Flatbush. Then came COVID. The shop closed. Rent went up. Her savings ran out. She now sleeps under scaffolding.
Everyone’s story is different—but the pattern is clear: Housing insecurity doesn’t only affect those on the margins anymore. It’s eating away at the middle. And the cost is more than economic. It’s human.
(Hannah Madison) 2025-04-23 PASTA TALK—Hey friends—Dinner with @ailana.geven tonight, and it felt like a pause I didn’t know I needed.
She asked, “When you see people on the street with nothing… what do you think their story is?”
I told her, “I don’t know. But I think not knowing is part of what bothers me most. Everyone’s got a backstory, and most of us walk right past it.”
She nodded and said, “Yeah… and maybe they don’t need us to fix everything—just to notice.”
That stuck with me. It still is.
Anyway, dinner was good. Talking was better.
Thanks for being here.
—Hannah
(Ailana Geven) GOODNIGHT—Today was heavy. Not in a bad way, just… real.
So tonight, I lit one little candle, curled up with chamomile tea, and pulled my blanket a little closer around me.
I needed to remind myself that light still exists—that kindness still counts, even if the problem feels bigger than our efforts.
If you're carrying something heavy tonight too, I hope you’ll let yourself rest.
The work will still be there tomorrow. But so will the beauty.
Sleep well, friends.
2025-04-24 Thursday : || Not Always What You Think ||
(Ailana Geven) GOOD MORNING—Dinner last night with Hannah (@hannah.madison.2002) was good. The talk was better. But my chill time back in my room didn’t really prepare me for a good night’s rest. Homelessness is tough to get out of your mind.
I know that a lot of you are reading the posts, so you know where my head is. It’s full of the PEOPLE I’ve learned about who are struggling every day.
I didn’t sleep very well, thoughts racing, hope spiraling. What if? What if more people helped? What if more people picked up extra hygiene items? What if?
Someone told me today, “I would, but I don’t have time.”
I answered before I could stop myself. “Oh, you have time. You just use it on things you think are more important.”
I don’t think they got it. But I bet some of you will.
Today won’t be any easier. I’m doing a somewhat deep dive into the LIVES of some of the people who are suffering because housing is so hard to come by.
My midday post will reflect hours and hours of work, so I hope you’ll show me some kindness and watch for it. Like and share, too. It’s that important!
See you soon.
(Ailana Geven) A DIFFERENT KIND OF HOMELESSNESS—When most people think of homelessness, they think of jobless, often ill people pushing shopping carts and sleeping under overpasses. But, more and more, something different is happening.
I want to share the stories of three people. I’ve changed their names, but their routines are real—and not unlike thousands of others across New York City.
MONIQUE wakes at 4:00 a.m. in the Queens shelter where she lives with her two daughters. She keeps her uniform folded in a bin under the bunk bed and gets dressed in the dark to avoid waking them. At 4:40, she boards the first bus toward JFK, where she works a 6 a.m. shift cleaning airplane cabins between arrivals. She earns $18 an hour and is done by 2:00 p.m.—then picks up a second shift delivering groceries in the evenings before returning to the shelter by curfew.
VICTOR, a city sanitation worker, earns $52,000 a year. But after divorce and rising rent, he couldn’t afford a new apartment. He wakes at 5:00 in a Bronx men’s employment shelter, leaves quietly, and reports to a Brooklyn sanitation yard by 6:30. He finishes at 3:00 and sometimes takes overtime when offered, but not too much—earning too much disqualifies him from housing vouchers. He spends his evenings searching listings he can’t afford, waiting for something to change.
RUTH lives in a Staten Island family shelter with her 3-year-old son. She’s a full-time family advocate—helping others access mental health care, parenting resources, and housing. After work, she commutes nearly two hours home, cooks dinner in the shared microwave, and puts her son to bed in a twin bed they share. She doesn’t qualify for food stamps. She earns too much. But not enough to rent.
These are people with jobs. People with purpose. Their lives run on alarms, time clocks, bus routes, and routines. Homelessness has a face—and it has a schedule.
New York (and other places) is a city where your paycheck no longer guarantees your pillow. This week has pulled back the curtain on the quiet, often invisible population of working New Yorkers who live in shelters, cars, and sometimes, nowhere at all. They work long shifts and still fall short of a stable place to sleep.
I’ve met parents helping their kids with homework in rooms they share with strangers. I’ve seen lines of men—exhausted from a day’s labor—waiting in silence for a warm bed inside. I’ve stood beside baskets of donated hygiene supplies and realized how dignity can be restored by the simplest gifts. And I’ve listened to shelter staff working tirelessly behind the scenes, offering resources, hope, and humanity.
This isn’t about statistics. It’s about Monique rising before dawn, Ruth guiding her child through spelling words, Victor keeping his uniform clean despite his circumstances, and thousands more doing everything right—yet still without a home.
If you’re reading this and wondering what to do: start small. Donate socks. Drop off soap. Volunteer your time. Say a prayer. Speak up. Because the difference between “us” and “them” may be just one unexpected bill.
Let’s make space for their stories. They deserve more than invisibility. They deserve solutions.
(Ailana Geven) GOODNIGHT—Well, readers, today was hard. Not in a bad way—just heavy with reality.
I spent the afternoon listening to stories that broke my heart a little. Stories from people who work long hours—nurses, retail clerks, airport staff—and still don’t have stable housing. They go to work in clean uniforms, ride public transit, serve others with kindness… and return at night to bunk beds in shelters or cars parked in safe corners.
Tonight, Emma and Hannah let me have a soak in their tub. (The dorms at Tom Jenkins’s just have showers.) I didn’t realize how tense I’d been until I sank into the quiet. It’s easy to forget how healing warmth and stillness can be.
If you missed today’s midday post, I hope you’ll scroll back. And if it stirred something in you—if you felt moved or unsettled or just unsure—please, sit with that. That feeling is the start of change.
Goodnight, friends.
May you sleep warm tonight. May you know peace in your bones and hope in your breath. And may your heart stay soft enough to break for someone else’s story.
Be your best you.
2025-04-25 Friday : || Talking Into Action ||
(Ailana Geven) GOOD MORNING—Today I’m stepping past talking about the problem… and doing something small to make things better.
I got up early, walked a few quiet blocks, and stopped by Emma and Hannah’s favorite Brooklyn coffee spot to get moving. Now I’m headed to volunteer with a simple but powerful idea.
“Haircuts, Hands, and Hope” is a pop-up care station we’re piloting today. It offers basic support: a fresh haircut, a warm towel, clean socks, a snack, and a safe conversation. The goal is dignity. The goal is to remind someone they are seen.
So many of you have asked, “What can I do?” — well, this is one way. You don’t need to fix everything. Just show up. Bring warmth. Offer grace. And be human.
Check back around noon NYC time for an update!
(Ailana Geven) HAIRCUTS, HANDS, AND HOPE—This isn’t about numbers. It’s about people.
We’re in a park in Brooklyn today running a little project called Haircuts, Hands, and Hope—a Pop-Up Care Station offering a clean towel, a warm greeting, and a chance to feel human again.
I spent the morning handing out fresh towels and helping set up. Others are doing free haircuts, giving away socks, soap, and bottled water. There’s nothing fancy about it—just small acts of dignity and kindness.
The man you see here introduced himself as Lonnie. He’s been in the shelter system for almost a year, but he used to work for the city doing groundskeeping in Prospect Park. He’s quiet but kind. When I handed him a towel, he said, “That’s the softest thing I’ve touched in months.”
This is what today is about. Being present. Being useful. Listening without needing to fix everything right away.
I’ll see you all later for tonight’s goodnight post. Be kind wherever you are.
(Ailana Geven) GOODNIGHT—I’ve been quiet tonight. Not because there wasn’t more to say, but because sometimes reflection is louder than words.
Today’s “Haircuts, Hands, and Hope” station reminded me that the people we walk past on sidewalks each day have stories. Names. Schedules. Dignity.
Tonight, I stood by the window in Emma and Hannah’s apartment, thinking about all the hands I saw today. Hands that held MetroCards. Hands that sorted donated socks. Hands that gently clipped hair or handed out warm towels.
There’s a kind of ache that comes with doing something small and knowing it’s not enough to fix the whole. But still, we do what we can.
Tomorrow is another day. And if all we can do is carry hope into it, that’s enough for now.
May you sleep tonight with peace in your heart and strength for whatever tomorrow brings.
Goodnight.
2025-04-26 Saturday : || Never Over ||
(Ailana Geven) GOOD MORNING—Truthfully, it has been a tough week. Tough situations with no easy answers. Maybe I’ve increased some awareness. That, at least, is something.
As I stand here between rain showers, my eyes are carried by my mind beyond the windows to those people I’ve met this week. Some of them are sheltering under an overpass as the rain comes and goes.
I could… anyone could make helping these people a full time permanent mission. But, this is not the only problem in the world. I feel like, for now, I’ve done something here. I hope some of those who have read and looked at the pictures will stop and look around their own communities. I hope the awareness I’ve created makes some sort of difference.
Today, I’m going to reset. I’m going to try to find some way to regroup and look ahead.
I have a mortgage to pay. Utilities. I need to get back to writing those generally alluded to, but never described digital content pieces I claim to get paid for. That means I need to move on.
Tomorrow, I’ll go to church with the gang living here in the American Heritage Apartments, then pack up and head for Miami. Jason will get there tomorrow, too. It will be good to see him and the others.
And… I’ll be looking forward to you sharing the journey with me.
See you later today!
(Ailana Geven) RAINY AFTERNOON—Honestly, this rainy day is okay with me. It has required me to be still and to rest. And, after the week I had, I needed this.
I want to add that I really appreciate those of you who read the posts and left meaningful comments. I’m sure some people who didn’t read were wondering what all the weird pictures were about!
Monday will find me in Miami. I’ll probably share some stats about the homeless situation there. But I think I’ll take a little time to revisit the issues and challenges facing coral reefs. I did that earlier this year, and the issue is worth a reprise.
As April nears the end, I want to say thank you so much to those who’ve been around for a long time. April 6, 2024 was the day I first posted. A lot has happened since then. It’s been a fun ride, to be sure.
The rain is supposed to keep up most of today, on and off. The rain will eventually stop. Cloudy day on Sunday…
But the cliche is true. The rain eventually ends. Tomorrow is another day and then another follows after that.
So, I’ll just take today as a rest and reset day. And, naturally, I’ll return for a goodnight.
See you then!
(Ailana Geven) GOODNIGHT—Goodnight friends. I’m smiling tonight. I am thinking fondly on what was done, rather than dwelling on what is left to be done.
In the end, I suppose that is a strategy that keeps me going onward. There are many things in this world that I can help make people aware of. So, from here, I’m heading back to Miami.
“Savannah’s Charm” and the gang are there (Jason will get there tomorrow, too). We’ll let Monday pass, relaxing a little. Then, we’ll see about the coral reefs again.
I’ll tell you again why preserving them is so important, their role in marine habitat. We’ll do what we can to help out.
For now, my plan is to spend about the next 12 hours under this blanket. Then, I’ll get up, get ready for church, and start the day.
(Slight lie. Before I start my hibernation, I will take off my makeup. I generally do that!)
May you smile at the things you have done, yet not forget the things left to do.
Goodnight.
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