Last fall, on a quiet Sunday afternoon, I went to church and heard something that stayed with me.

The priest shared that when he walks down St. Catherine Street — one of Montreal’s busiest downtown streets — and sees people asking for help, he knows he cannot give to everyone. But what he can do is look each person in the eyes and smile.

Montreal, like most major cities, has a visible and growing unhoused community. The need is constant. And over time, many of us — often unconsciously — develop the habit of not seeing. I have done it too.

Sometimes, a brief moment of I see you can nourish the soul, open the heart, and reconnect us with our shared humanity.

A few blocks later, life offered me a chance to live that insight. A young woman approached me and asked, “Do you have some money for food?” At first glance, she looked like many young adults. But her eyes told a different story — vulnerability, hunger, fear.

“What would you like to eat?” I asked. She hesitated. “I’d really love some fruit.”

I smiled and invited her to come with me to the supermarket. She looked startled. “Are you sure? They might not let me in.” “You can wait outside if that feels more comfortable,” I said gently. Even then, I could sense her unease.

Inside, I chose fruit and a few additional essentials she might need. When I handed her the bag, she looked up at me with tears in her eyes and whispered, “Thank you so much.” Her gratitude nearly brought me to tears.

I walked away realizing that while I had given her a few basic necessities, she had given me something far more powerful: a moment of connection, humanity, and heart.