Puffs of breath sparkle in the early morning sunlight, in the cold car. The morning brings relief; they made it through the night in the cold without being discovered. Emmy’s mom gently brushes the bangs off her daughter’s head to wake her. Her mother is relieved that Emmy feels warm enough under all of the blankets in the car. “Em, wake up, sweetheart. It’s time to get ready for school. Your school’s holiday pageant is today. I can’t wait to hear you sing tonight.” Emmy rouses to her mother’s voice.
The Gas Station Lifeline:
Emmy is now awake and buckled into the passenger’s side seat as her mother pulls into a gas station, so, Emmy can brush her teeth and get ready for school. Emmy’s mother knows to change their routine and not use the same bathroom every day. She glances in the back seat at the white dress shirt Emmy will need for tonight’s program. She needs to find a way to get it ironed while Emmy is at school.
Waiting for the right moment, a game that Emmy knows all too well, they grab their bag of toiletries and head for the bathroom. Emmy brushes her teeth, and her mother helps her comb her hair. She quickly washes with a washrag that they brought in and the soap from their bag. It’s not much of a wash, but it will have to do for this morning. Emmy’s mother pulls Emmy’s school clothes from her bag. They haven’t been washed yet, but she tries to circulate the clothing, so the other children don’t notice. Emmy is changing when there’s a knock at the door, and they both know their time is up. They put on their calm faces like they were just in to use the restroom, nothing more.
Emmy is dropped off at school, where she’ll have breakfast, and lunch will be provided as well. Emmy’s mother drives to the local restaurant where she’ll start her first shift of the day, praying that the tips are good and that there will still be time to get Emmy’s shirt ironed before tonight.
The Skill of Survival
To understand what that moment in the gas station bathroom really means, you need to understand the reality that families like Emmy’s are facing, living in vehicles.
Staying Warm: December in Indiana can be deadly. Families must quickly start their car engine to heat up or at least take the chill out of the air while carefully managing fuel. It’s impossible mathematics: fifteen minutes of heat, thirty minutes off. A quarter tank of gas might mean three nights of warmth or two days of getting to work. Children are more susceptible to cold, so parents layer every piece of clothing they own and position kids in the middle seat for shared body heat.
Finding safe places to park overnight adds another layer of stress: 24-hour store lots, hospital garages, church parking areas. The constant fear is a flashlight on the window at 2 AM and an officer saying, “You can’t stay here.”
Food Storage: There’s no refrigeration, no kitchen. A small cooler holds milk that spoils quickly, and ice that costs $2.50 per bag. Non-perishables, like peanut butter, crackers, and granola bars, live in the trunk, but the cold is just as bad as the heat sometimes for this food. School meals become the most reliable food source. Weekends and holidays mean hunger without careful planning.
Laundry: Cleaning clothes requires money and time, but most families resort to hand-washing underwear and socks in gas-station sinks at 5 AM, hanging damp clothes from car windows to dry. There is a distinct odor that washing can’t take away, one that only comes from living in a confined space with limited access to hot running water and regular laundry facilities.
Hygiene: Some days washing means baby wipes and sink “baths” in public restrooms, always watching the door, always hurrying before someone knocks. For the child getting ready for tonight’s Christmas pageant, this gas station bathroom is as close to privacy as she’ll get.
The Weight of Secrets
But the physical challenges are only part of the story. Then comes the exhausting work of hiding it all from peers because of the stigma surrounding being unhoused.
The Daily Performance: In Indiana, we know nearly 18,700 children experiencing homelessness were enrolled in Indiana schools in 2022-23, and most of them are trying desperately to blend in. They’ve memorized a fake address. They decline birthday party invitations. They eat lunch alone to avoid questions about where they live or what they did last night. They hide the shame and stigma of being unhoused.
Socialization for unhoused children is challenging, often leading to social isolation and impacting their ability to form relationships well into adulthood. Families work very hard to obscure their housing status from public view, carrying deep shame about not being able to provide. Every conversation becomes a threat assessment: Who’s asking too many questions? Who noticed the same shirt three days in a row? Did anyone see Mom drop them off from the obviously lived-in car?
The hypervigilance is consuming.
The Statistics Behind the Story
Indiana saw a 15% increase in homeless students from 2019 to 2022-23, but the numbers only hint at the scope:
- 1 in 30 American children experience homelessness—more than 2.5 million children each year.
- Unhoused individuals living in vehicles are more likely to be in households with children and are more likely to be women seeking safety.
- Many unhoused students are “doubled up,” sharing housing with others, making them essentially almost impossible to count to understand the true magnitude of this issue for children.
The Learning Implications:
- 57% of unhoused students in Indiana passed early literacy assessments, 15 percentage points lower than housed students.
- Graduation rates are nine percentage points lower, with 20% of homeless students suspended compared to 10% of housed students in Indiana, according to a WFYI article published in February 2025.
The Invisible Crisis: Unhoused students face unique barriers beyond poverty, including frequent school transfers, lack of transportation, and the stigma and fear of homelessness. They’re sitting in classrooms right now, next to housed children, working harder than anyone realizes to appear normal.
Time for a Change:
This is the reality behind Emmy’s white shirt needing to be ironed, posing such a challenge for her mother. This is what’s hidden beneath the practiced smile in the mirror. This is the weight Emmy carries to the Christmas pageant tonight.
When Emmy’s mother picks Emmy up from after-school care, they only have a few minutes to spare to get ready for the pageant. There is a sense of relief when Emmy and her mother walk into the school bathroom to get ready and see other working mothers readying their children there too. Emmy and her mother feel a sense of ease, like they can fit in.
Emmy’s mother watches her daughter sing beautifully that evening with her classmates, and it brings tears to her eyes and the realization that she can no longer ignore. This housing situation is unsustainable for them both. They need help, and that is where a program like Nest Community Shelter and our partners can help.
Unfortunately, stories like Emmy’s and her mother’s are common in our communities across the state. This holiday season, all these families wish for is a home of their own, and the stability that comes with that, hot running water, a place to cook and share a meal, and the safety that home brings.
This holiday season, please consider supporting the work we do at Nest Community Shelter and Nest La Porte to support families like Emmy’s. If you’d like to make a difference in the lives of those like Emmy, please donate today. You can click here to donate.
