During my time at The INN Between, I’ve met many people who tell me they’ve spent years feeling unseen, passing quietly through streets, shelters or hospital rooms. Many residents arrive with little more than the clothes on their backs and a hospital bag of paperwork. But what they’re missing most isn’t possessions. It’s recognition.
It only takes something small to change that. Someone remembers their name. Someone looks them in the eye. Someone celebrates their birthday or sits with them over a meal to learn about their life. In that moment, their whole demeanor changes. The act of being seen reminds them that they are still human, still known, still loved. To me, that is the truest form of generosity.
Generous people often call us and ask, “What do you need?” Food, clothing, Christmas gifts, donations. Those things all matter. They keep people alive and bring comfort during a medical crisis. But after nearly a decade of providing care and housing to terminally ill and medically frail homeless adults, I’ve learned that what most people crave, what truly heals them, is being seen.
Living without stable housing or consistent medical care can make invisibility feel normal. It changes a person. We are wired for connection, and when that connection is lost, it’s easy to become closed off, depressed and hopeless. Sometimes, simply being acknowledged can begin to undo years of isolation.
I remember one resident, Renaud. His case manager brought him to us and explained that he had been living unsheltered for many years. He didn’t seem agreeable to living within four walls and didn’t really trust the medical system. Much to everyone’s surprise, Renaud did a complete 180 within a few weeks. He began following medical advice and even started working toward permanent housing.
I’ll never forget the day he was preparing to leave for his new apartment. He stood outside The INN Between with his single hospital bag and a small box, waiting for his case manager to pick him up. It was cold, and I asked if he’d rather wait inside. He smiled and said, “No, my case manager is always early. I don’t want to be late getting my keys.”
A week later, Renaud came back. This time with a money order in hand. He told us he now had an income and wanted to give back to the place and the people who gave him hope. “You helped me believe healing was possible,” he said.
That moment has stayed with me. The gift of being seen costs nothing, yet it has the power to restore dignity, connection and hope. When someone recognizes your worth, it becomes easier to see it in yourself.
A story with a different ending is that of a resident who recently died at The INN Between. Brad was in his mid-40s and, somehow, was at peace with his end-of-life diagnosis. It’s rare for friends or family to be closely involved during one of our residents’ final stays, but Brad was fortunate to have several family members by his side through his last days. They later attended his memorial — a service planned and led by fellow residents — and listened as our resident advocate shared stories about Brad’s kindness. He described him as a “gentle giant,” someone who went out of his way to be kind, even when he was only days from dying.
I believe we were able to give Brad’s family a great gift. Not just a warm bed and compassionate care, but the comfort of hearing that their son was a good man — kind, loved and remembered — until his very last breaths.
In a season devoted to giving, I’ve learned that the greatest generosity doesn’t begin with what we purchase or wrap, it begins with how we see one another. We can’t always fix someone’s circumstances, but we can let them know they are not invisible.
At The INN Between, we often say that no one should have to die alone. But what we truly mean is that no one should have to live unseen. Each day, I witness people who have been forgotten by society rediscover their worth through small, human gestures, a shared laugh, a warm meal, a moment of eye contact that says you matter.
Each day, I’m reminded that the greatest gifts we can give, especially during this season, are presence, recognition and love. Those are the gifts that don’t cost a thing, and yet they are the ones that change everything.
Jillian Olmsted is executive director of The INN Between, which provides end-of-life care for homeless men and women in Utah.
This story appears in the December 2025 issue of Deseret Magazine. Learn more about how to subscribe.