Pausing to remember

Sunday, Nov 11 was one of those cold, grey days typical of Remembrance Day.   My wife Jan and I attended the service at the cenotaph, walking there from home to stand alongside people of all ages, outside in the elements,  pausing to remember the battles fought,  the lives lost,  and the peace we sometimes take for granted. It's a powerful experience that draws us back each year.

For many of those assembled, it was probably the coldest hour they'll spend all year.  Right after the ceremony, people hustled back to the warmth of their cars and homes.  I couldn't help thinking of our homeless citizens, knowing they spend the majority of their lives outside, battling the elements, battling poverty, with no warm home awaiting their return.    Many also battle addictions and mental illness, but unlike the wars our honoured vets fought, street battles rarely result in peace.  Lives are lost in the streets, not necessarily in the sense of death, but a loss of who they are or where they are going.  Fortunately, there's hope for those who wander the streets: hope they can find their way again through some life-altering change (housing is found, an addiction is in recovery, a mental illness stabilizes, a job is found) allowing them to return to a more normal life, with a warm home awaiting their return.

Until one of those life altering changes happens, one of the few hopes for a warm place to sleep is an extreme weather alert, and on this cold, wet Remembrance Day, that's exactly what happened.

Posters announcing the alert went up; shelter volunteers and staff were mustered; the furnace in the big hall at St Alban was fired up; sleeping mats and blankets were laid out and kitchen volunteers arrived and started filling the building with the aromas of homemade shepherd's pie and apple crumble.

So, at least for this one cold night in November, there was a warm place, a temporary home of sorts, for  a few of our street veterans.

I'm not suggesting we honour our street vets in the same way we honour our war vets, but I am suggesting we pause for a moment and remember the women and men who have no home and most likely are outside right now as you read this.