What does food insecurity feel like?
A past recipient of our services sent this to us, and we thought it was too good not to share...
I am grateful for those who feed. Physical nourishment is important to both body and soul. Nothing brings this into focus like feeling hungry, particularly if you're uncertain of your next meal. Food insecurity isn't the kind of hunger that happens when we feel peckish or dread a trip to the grocery store. It's staring forlornly at the empty rice bin in the pantry. It's the ray of hope felt over a forgotten half-loaf of stale bread, and it's diving into the couch cushions in the hope of finding enough change to buy eggs so you can turn it into french toast, and then carefully setting aside a few precious pieces so the kids won't have to go without breakfast in the morning. Food insecurity is laying awake and gratefully watching 11:59 become tomorrow because you know that tomorrow is one day closer to payday and groceries, and it's remaining sleepless because you're still not sure how you'll pay for both groceries and bills. Chances are that most of us have been touched by some variation of this experience at some point in our lives. Anyone who is currently living paycheck-to-paycheck is vulnerable.
I have felt my place in the world come into sharp focus in the form of an empty fridge. I have second guessed life decisions while examining the goopy lid of a half-empty ketchup bottle. I have regretted little routine decisions as I exhumed the remains of a moldy tub of leftover take-out rice. During a few brief periods of my adult life, I have felt the weight of my inability to fill one of the most basic and essential duties of motherhood. No failure has ever struck so deep.
And no gift has ever matched the profound impact of the surprise box of food and the envelopes full of hope assembled from the donations of neighbors we barely knew or had never met. The box held more than just a few meals and the promise of a warm and merry Christmas, it also held the reassurance that we are not alone in the world, and that if others could forgive my mistakes, I could, too. That box contained both the physical and spiritual nourishment we needed in order to work toward better. That gift of hope has never left us. When we once again found ourselves in need a few years later, that hope carried us to ask for help when help was needed, and we were met with an even greater measure of love and kindness than I had ever dared to hope for. Feeding the hungry is a sacred work that does so much more than fill bellies. Every donated can of beans, every sincere smile to the customer on food stamps, every harvest shared among neighbors (even the zucchini),and every hour volunteering at a food bank is a much-needed gift of hope and love to someone who desperately needs to feel less alone. Today, with a full belly and a grateful heart, I celebrate the kindness of people we know and the charitable generosity of strangers. There is so much beauty and love in this world we share.