Linda Brown, a real estate agent, believes that when it comes to solving homelessness, it takes a village. She spent nine years supporting homeless people in Springfield, Missouri, through a charitable organization called The Gathering Tree, which welcomed people a few times each week during daylight hours, providing a safe and welcoming place for them to take showers, socialize, or simply rest. But they had to close their doors for the night. “One cold winter night, I watched as my friends walked off into the darkness to a wet, cold camp, while we went home to a warm bed,” Linda said, “I realized I had to do something.”

She had an idea to create a village of tiny houses to make sure no one slept outside on her watch! Linda started fundraising. She began by appealing to her fellow estate agents in the area before branching out into local businesses.

Using these donations, Linda purchased a nearby abandoned area that already had the infrastructure in place. By February 2019, they’d built 31 tiny homes for their Eden Village and found residents for each one. All the residents must be good neighbors in order to stay in the village, and they certainly are! Linda was happy when she learned that the village actually increased local property values rather than lowering them as some people had feared.

The driving philosophy behind Eden Village is as follows: The root causes of a person’s homelessness cannot be thoroughly addressed until his or her immediate housing needs are met. “When I watched my homeless friends walk into a hidden, wet, and cold camp, I realized I had to do something,” Linda said. “And that made me have the idea to build the tiny-home village that serves as a place where the chronically disabled homeless can live with dignity and self-worth.”

To this day, Linda firmly believes that there are a million reasons why someone can become homeless, but each of them can be solved with love and community involvement.

I took my elementary-aged son and his two hungry friends to a cafeteria within a store for lunch after church, because it’s really affordable and we are not all that comfortable financially.

How awful to load up our trays, get up to the register and then find out my wallet was missing! Yet the cashier empathized with the situation and helped me think through some ideas for alternative payment. Then the cashier offered to pay for the meal and have me reimburse her via a payment app. So, I stood to the side to download it, but because my phone is an old one and there were tech problems, this was taking me a very long time.

I came so very close to panicking (恐慌). Everything was loud, it got so hot there, I was dizzy. The boys were jumping around and freaking me out, so I sent them on various “errands (差事)” to keep them busy. And then I remembered to breathe. Finally the cashier called me back over to the register and handed me a receipt, telling me, “Here you go. It’s paid for. It’s on me. Enjoy your meal.” I was touched and sincerely thanked her! Reading the receipt, it looked like she actually paid for the meal personally without using a discount code.

The cashier hadn’t known my son’s two friends came from an insecure food situation at home. I tried to invite them over for snacks and meals as often as possible. They hadn’t eaten yet, and this cafeteria meal with us was likely to be their only one today. My gratefulness for this cashier’s generosity went deeper than her simply saving me from the embarrassment of a missing wallet. Her kindness ensured these boys had food for the day— literally.

After our meal, I went back to the register to thank her and repay her, as I’d finally gotten the app working on my phone. But she was gone, and the other workers weren’t sure of her name because she was new. I made sure to write to the company and tell them how awesome their cashier was.

The night before the first day of school is usually an exciting and sleepless one for me. This virtual (虚拟的) school year, however, didn't give me that same feeling. In my mind, I couldn't communicate with my classmates, and I couldn't have conversations with my favorite teachers. So I went to bed, filled with more curiosity (好奇) and uncertainty than anything else.

I woke up the next day at 9 a. m., as my first class that day didn't start until 10 a.m. I sat at my desk waiting for my first online class of the day: AP Statistics. The class could only be described as two things: awkward and a bit boring. Awkward because of the lasting silence that often fell over us, as most of the students, myself included, refused to discuss their summers, and boring because I had to look at a screen instead of truly communicating with my teacher.

I would have preferred sitting in a classroom wearing my picked first-day clothes, but, I didn't say anything. I knew it was much safer for us to learn from home.

Once the class ended, my one-hour lunch block began. My virtual lunch was at 11:20 a.m.

At the end of the day, I felt strange, and like I hadn't done anything at all or even actually gone to school. I never felt like I hadn't done anything with myself that day before. I didn't even feel like a student on a “pursuit (追求) of knowledge.” I just felt like I was watching something on my computer screen.

It wasn't my favorite thing in the world, but, it's the new normal (常态), and I and my classmates will have to get used to it.