The Cold Some People Can't Escape
Have you ever felt the kind of cold that sinks all the way into your bones? Not the quick shiver you get walking to your car, but the kind of chill you can't shake with a hot drink or an extra blanket?
I'll never forget an outreach years ago after it had snowed all night and turned to freezing rain by morning. I was outside shoveling my driveway, soaked through, doing the impossible dance of trying to stay dry while moving heavy, wet snow. By the time I got in my car and headed to our headquarters, I was already cold to the core—and my day was just getting started. I still had to help clear our buses, cook soup, and head into the streets where our guests, who had been out in the same weather all night, were waiting for something hot to drink.
Eighteen hours later, after a long day of serving, I finally made it home. I peeled off my wet layers, stepped into a hot shower and didn't get out until my body was finally thawed. I crawled into bed under thick blankets and as I was drifting off to sleep, I heard the radiator hiss as it tried its best to keep up with the frozen temperatures outside. In that quiet moment, warmth finally returning to my body, I couldn't shake the thought:
Right now, the people I spent the day with are experiencing this night in a completely different way.
Some were likely trying to sleep on the subway—one of the few places left where warmth is available for anyone with $3 for the turnstile. But many people don't realize that if you stay on certain subway lines long enough, they eventually go above ground. The doors fly open and a blast of freezing air rushes in, making any warmth you've managed to experience evaporate in seconds.
Others were heading into shelters, likely grabbing a shower in 5 minutes or less and putting on the same cold clothes they'd walked in with. Then they'd try to sleep in a dormitory filled with strangers, noise, and uncertainty.
In my warm bed, I felt gratitude and heartbreak. Not because I'd done anything to "earn" warmth or comfort, but because so much of my life has been shaped by opportunities I didn't create. Opportunities many of our unhoused neighbors never had.
Winter has a way of exposing the brutal difference between surviving and thriving.
And that's why City Relief—and organizations like it—exist: to close that gap with compassion, dignity, and presence.
As we move deeper into the holiday season, when so many of us gather with warmth, food, family, and comfort, I want to invite you to join us in caring for those who don't have those same assurances.
Here are three simple but powerful ways you can make a difference:
GIVE - Your financial support allows us to show up with hot meals, warm socks, hygiene kits, referrals, and life-changing connections during the coldest months of the year. Every gift—large or small—directly impacts someone trying to survive winter on the streets.
If you see some folks experiencing homelessness on your commute, please consider carrying gift cards to coffee shops, hand warmers, or extra winter gloves to hand out. It might help someone keep going one more day!
VOLUNTEER - If you're able, spend a few hours serving with us or with another organization in your community. Your presence matters more than you know.
PRAY - Lift up our neighbors who are struggling with fear, hunger, loneliness, and the cold they cannot escape. Pray for comfort, strength, and hope—and for the people who serve them.
Thank you for caring. Thank you for showing up. And thank you for helping ensure that no one faces the cold alone.
With gratitude,
Josiah Haken
City Relief, CEO
