We are entering a season of abundance—those few weeks each year when we celebrate, despite the anxieties and uncertainties that loom ahead. No matter our circumstances, many of us will find ways to be generous. Even if we can’t offer material gifts to be unwrapped, we will share our time and our homes, offering our full presence to one another over a shared meal.
For many of us, as we near the end of our calendar year, this is also a season of reflection. True reflection is grounded in what we know to be true already and the imagination to find hope for the future.
As I think about the past year at Aurora Commons, it has truly been a year of abundance—specifically, an abundance of people. Year over year, we saw a 62% increase in visits to the Commons, and a 47% increase in people seeking support from our advocacy team. Our staff team now includes 19 members, 14 of whom have been with us for a year or more.
We faced some incredibly challenging days—days when we couldn't meet the demand for our programming. On those days, we ran out of hot meals by 11:30 am, and sign-up lists for advocacy and our clothing closet filled up for the day within the first hour of opening. Yet, there was never a scarcity of love and care for one another. And it is this love that binds our community together.
2024 at the Commons embodies an epiphany I had while examining a strawberry I had grown in my garden this past summer.
An average strawberry contains around 200 seeds, meaning each fruit holds the genetic blueprint for 200 new strawberry plants. Each plant, in turn, produces about 32 strawberries. So, in one season, 200 plants could yield 6,400 strawberries—or 1,280,000 seeds.
In this way, each strawberry carries the potential to multiply itself, to share life abundantly. The lesson here is that strawberries produce life—not just for themselves, but for others as well. This life is deeply dependent on factors beyond its control, such as soil, water, and climate, but it thrives nonetheless. There’s a certain uncertainty built into the process, yet the simple, inspiring truth remains: we would all be better off if we shared ourselves with one another, trusting that we belong to each other.
We are keenly aware of what our neighbors and community don’t have. It would be easy to get stuck in the reality of scarcity our neighbors experiencing homelessness and poverty face as they attempt to navigate the broken systems of social services in their pursuit of health and healing. The systems are broken. Our society is broken. Yet, we served more people last year than we ever have before. What happens at Aurora Commons every day is what this world can look like from the perspective of abundance.
It’s a bit like the folk tale Stone Soup, where a group of weary, hungry travelers enters a village with nothing but a large cooking pot. They ask around, but no one in the village is willing to share food to cook in the pot. So, the travelers head to a stream, fill the pot with water, and add a stone, then set it over the fire. A curious villager approaches and asks what they’re doing. “Making stone soup,” they reply, assuring the villager that it’s delicious. They mention, however, that it could be even better with a few missing garnishes.
Intrigued, the villager offers to contribute something from their pantry. And this cycle continues, one contribution after another, until—through many small acts—a nourishing meal is created that none could have made alone.
We will forever be advocates for a more just and equitable world for everyone through larger systematic changes. AND we will also advocate for these things in the microcosm of our neighborhood. At the Commons, we practice small acts of kindness that may seem insignificant. However, we know that caring is the catalyst for change. Seeing the faces of our neighbors experiencing homelessness and poverty, and greeting them by name as we welcome them to the Commons. Over time, these seemingly small actions, collectively, have the power to heal and transform lives.
As we enter this season of generosity, I challenge you to pay attention to the ways you share your life with others. Notice how you are inspired to give in ways you might not at other times of the year. Reflect on how you cultivate abundance despite the anxieties and uncertainties you may carry. We cannot flip the switch back to a scarcity mindset as our calendars turn to January 1.
I invite you to imagine doing things differently instead of expecting different results from the same actions. How can you continue to give, sharing your abundance with others in the new year? Because we will need each other more than ever in the year ahead. We can not rely on broken systems to foster health and healing. We must cultivate a mindset of abundance and the imagination to collectively create something none of us could have done on our own, trusting that we belong to each other.