Last year, a family moved into our neighborhood, renting a home that had previously been for sale. The children are a brother and sister. They are from the West Side of Chicago but have lived in Gary, Indiana, and various locales between here and there. The boy attends school with my daughter (he is 2 years ahead) and since their residence is on our street, he stops by our house in the morning on the way to the bus stop. We have gotten into a habit of sharing coffee in the morning - even if I'm not having any, I brew a bit for him to enjoy. He is thrilled if we happen to have a flavored creamers to try, like "French vanilla" or "pumpkin spice." My daughter enjoys the camraderie. I enjoy a polite and sweet child in the house to set a good example for her!

This 10 year-old is incredibly bright, vibrant and chatty. He truly has a "winning" personality. But his eyes lowered and his face fell when he mentioned to me a few weeks ago that they had to move. "I am only 10 but I have moved 14 times, " he stated to me somberly. He must have seen the sadness in my eyes. He quickly continued, "But don't worry, I'll still be going to the same school. We're going to find an apartment in the neighborhood."

There are few rental options - let alone AFFORDABLE rental options - for working people in this 'burb - although that is largely true throughout Chicagoland. My coffee buddy confided in me that they were to be evicted and had to be out of their house.

December 1st has come and gone and our young friend is still coming over in the mornings to walk to the bus with us. My daughter began to pry, demanding "Why haven't you moved yet?" He looked at me with confused and pleading eyes, and I hurriedly remarked to her, "Hey, that's not your business."

Through clues that he has offered, I am aware that this family is still in their rented home but they have no power or heat. Some evenings, they go the local library for the evening so the kids can do their homework. Often, they drive each night way up to the far northern suburbs to sleep in the basement of a relative. Then they wake the kids early and get them dressed and off to school here in the the Northwest suburbs.

One could easily turn their nose down and judge the parents for putting their children through the tumult of the shuttling and late nights and overall lack of stabilty. However, although I have only met the mother once, I do know that these parents are determined to do whatever it takes to provide a safe, high-quality education for their children, as ours is a top-rated school district.  Both kids gets nearly straight A's on their report cards.

Since we walk together each morning, I could not help but notice that my young friend has neither snow boots nor gloves. Thankfully, he does have a nice warm, hand-me-down coat from a cousin. I thought that a gift of boots might not be accepted. But today I went to the store and bought a few pairs of inexpensive gloves. I had a strategy for presenting them so as to not seem "charitable" but merely "neighborly."

As the kids clambered off the bus this afternoon, I had the gloves tucked into my pocket. "Hey, buddy, I went to the store today and they had a clearance special on gloves. I picked up some for our family and there are some extra. Would you like these," I stated, as I handed him the warm red gloves that coordinate with his coat and hat.

He couldn't put them on his little chilly fingers fast enough. "Thanks so much, Mrs. H.!"

Another part of my strategy, I was wearing a too-small pair in blue that I bought, intended for his sister. "You know, it turns out these are too small for me, do you think your sister could use them?"

"Oh, blue is her favorite color! Yes, thanks!"

The exuberance in his voice and the look of relief on his face will always be with me as a reminder to appreciate the littlest details in life and to be thankful for whatever I have - and not to worry about what I don't.