Grateful and Shamed

I spend a good deal of time last night looking at this set of photos, and reading the photographer's thoughts. He shows and talks about Vancouver's downtown Eastside...I've been, but never stuck around for long. It's a bit scary, even in broad daylight.
It was one of many times that the well-deserved guilt hit me. What have I done for these people, or for people like them? No, I'm not really in a position to give money, but I have time. I can cook or hand out sandwiches or just sit and listen to someone tell their story. It doesn't have to be in Vancouver, of course. It can be at the mission in town, or down at the park. But I've been convicted once again that I need to do something.
I worry and get stressed out about money and debt and a thousand other things, and I forget that which should be impossible to forget. I am so very blessed. I have an amazing family whom I love, friendships I treasure, comparatively excellent health - depression doesn't seem as grave compared to a 70% HepC infection rate, or 30% AIDS. I have a warm roof over my head and food in my kitchen and so many things that it is unfairly easy to take for granted. And I never should. I'm grateful for these things, and shamed that I forget them. Shamed, too, that I do so little to hep out - and grateful that each new day brings a chance to start again, and to try to make a difference.