A Letter to You

Dear Friend,

As Christmas approaches, the streets take on a different glow—lights strung across lampposts, carols drifting from shop doors, the scent of pine and cinnamon in the air. It is the season when our hearts are supposed to open widest, when we are reminded of love incarnate, of a Child born in a stable because there was no room at the inn. And every year, without fail, we notice them more clearly: the individuals on the street who are struggling, at risk, or homeless. We see the man huddled in a doorway with a thin blanket, the woman sitting beside a cardboard sign, the young person pacing to keep warm. In December, something in us stirs, and we reach into our pockets, or we buy an extra coffee, or we volunteer at this time of year.

There are so many quiet ways to show love in this season. A warm meal handed through a car window. A pair of socks, a hat, or a new blanket. A conversation that treats the person as a person—asking their name and listening for a moment. Dropping off coats at a collection drive. Serving at a Christmas dinner for those who would otherwise be alone. These acts are simple, but they are real expressions of love, reminders that no one should be invisible, especially when the world is celebrating abundance.

Image by Joshua Woroniecki from Pixabay

Yet I must be honest with you, as I try always to be honest with myself: we do this far more readily in December than in any other month. Why? The truth is uncomfortable. Christmas drapes everything in sentiment. Songs tell us it’s the most wonderful time of the year. Films show even the stingiest souls transformed overnight by the magic of the season. Churches fill with people who rarely attend the rest of the year, drawn by candlelight services and familiar carols. Charities run their most visible campaigns now, tugging at heartstrings with images of cold children and empty plates. We receive year-end bonuses or tax-deductible donation reminders. The cold is sharper, the nights longer, and suffering feels more urgent against the backdrop of our own warmth and plenty.

In short, December makes it easy to care. The cultural machinery of Christmas does half the work for us—it puts generosity on the calendar, packages it attractively, and rewards us with a pleasant glow of having done the right thing. We feel the contrast between our heated homes and the frozen pavement more acutely. We want to believe we are good people, and giving in December lets us prove it to ourselves with minimal disruption to our routines.

But after the decorations come down, the urgency fades. The same man in the doorway becomes part of the scenery again. The same woman with the sign blends into the background. Our schedules fill back up with work and obligations, and the emotional high of the holidays dissipates. We tell ourselves we’ll help later, when we have more time or money, yet the months roll by and we rarely do. The truth is that need does not take a holiday. Cold bites in January too. Hunger does not pause in March. Loneliness deepens in the long stretch of ordinary days when no one is singing about peace on earth.

I do not write this to scold us—myself included—but to name what is true. Seasonal charity is still charity; it still warms bodies and hearts. But if the love we feel in December is genuine, it deserves to outlast the tinsel. The individuals on the street are not seasonal props in our story of holiday redemption. They are people, every single day of the year.

So perhaps this Christmas, while we do the good we are moved to do, we can also make a quiet promise: to carry a little of this awareness forward. To notice in April what we notice in December. To give in July with the same openness we feel now. Love that is only convenient is a thinner kind of love, and we are capable of more.

May this season soften our hearts—and may the softening last.

With hope,

Your friend

Robin Campbell

Manna Homeless Society

Thanks for your kindness and compassion.

Monetary donations can be made by e-transfer to:

MannaParksville@gmail.com

Or cheques can be sent to:

Manna Homeless Society

PO Box 389

Errington BC VOR 1VO