We can all see the same moon. No matter where we are in the world, when you gaze into the night sky, every single one of us stares into the face of the same moon.

I feel alive, and well. I feel strong, I like the burning in my calves as I walk to the bus stop everyday. I like the muscles in my arms, when I help load 70,000 papers into the church I work at now. I like that I can work in a church and not feel like I'm going to be sent to hell for thinking differently, and for being myself. I was thankful for every part of me, as I sit at the desk at the office and help make a difference in my city. As I realize that I am needed, and that there is a specfic place for me. As vendors come in and shake MY hand, and thank me for my time and my 'hard work' to keep papers in their hands. It always catches me off guard, because they are the ones standing in the rain. In the snow. In the cold. In the heat. They are the ones waking up at 4am to get to the bus stop to get to their corner, and standing there, waiting for a dollar. Hoping, praying, that they get enough to pay their rent each night so they don't have to go back to the river, back to tent city, back to the bridge. So they can buy 2 pieces of chicken for $.99 for lunch.

They shake MY hand and thank ME. And I don't ever know how to respond. I just want to give them a hug and a high five and congratulate them for being so amazing at what they do. For bringing homelessness to the forefront. For not allowing it to be hidden anymore. To be something of hushed whispers. It is real. It's vivid. And it's alive. But it's changing, and I get to be a part of it.

The tiniest little woman, Caitlin, came in the other day. And she was visibly sick. She bought 8 papers, and said that she was praying that it would be enough to cover the $32 she lacked for rent for the night. She also had to come up with $1.60 for bus fare back to her hotel room. I wanted to buy papers for her. Or from her. I wanted to give her a ride. I wanted to give her $5 for lunch. I wanted to give her a bag of cat food for the stray kitten she's been taking care of. But I couldn't. So I gave her my $.40 change card for the bus, a cigarette and a granola bar. I wished her the best of luck. And said that she'd be in my thoughts.

But I know, I'm fully aware that I have a savior complex. I want so desperately to love everyone that hurts, everyone that goes forgotten, and unnoticed. Everyone whose hungry, physically and emotionally, everyone who goes without basic necessities for living. I want to save them all. I want to provide for them. I want to give them a place to lay their heads at the end of the day. I want to put food in their empty bellies, and warm coats over their shoulders. I want to clean their feet, and wash their face. I want to care for them, because they deserve it. Because everyone deserves to be loved and cared for. To not be invisible.

For once in my life, I belong to something. I belong to something that doesn't require me to lose the most weight, or eat the least amount of calories. That doesn't require me to be the saddest, or most depressed. Or have the most cuts in my skin. For once I belong to a group of people, whose goal is to do something so important. Who are literally saving lives. I'm a part of something. And it feels good.

Afterwards, I gather my bags, and change into my boots. I grab a cup of coffee and walk 2 blocks to Big Time Boots. I clock in, and I paste a smile on my face. And I feed tourists and my coworkers exactly what they want to hear.

"Hey ya'll! How ya doing?"
"Lookin' for anything particular? Some boots maybe?"
"If you see anything ya like, just lemme know, and I'll get it down for ya!"

Smile. Smile. Smile.

Pretend like I give two cares about boots and western wear, and rhinestones and glitter and leather.

I am extremely grateful for this job. It came at the exact right time. And no other job would've kept me on payroll, if I went into the hospital 3 days after starting. Or been out for 2.5 weeks because my body was shutting down. And they certainly wouldn't have kept me on after taking a 6 months leave of absence in the busiest season of the year. Or after it took me 8 days to drive 700 miles because my car died. They wouldn't have kept me. This job did, and welcomed me back with open arms (and a key and a raise?). This job has 'saved' me financially. My boss clocked me in for hours I didn't work, to make sure I got a paycheck when I was sick. He rang sales under me, so that I made commission when I was upstairs asleep. He gave me money to buy insulin after I got out of the hospital. He got me a ticket to see Imogen Heap on a night I was supposed to close the store, and stayed to work while I went to the concert, still on the clock.

I'm just, really thankful these days. There's not a day that goes by, that I'm not incredibly aware of just how much I've been given. There's not a day that I'm not reminded how much I'm loved - whether by a text, an email or a ride to the grocery store.