Hungry

I haven’t written a blog post in a bazillion years. I’ve been busy…too busy really. After not working outside my home for over 25 years, starting a job (even though it is only 30 hours a week) was harder than I expected. It’s been crazy, overwhelming, tiring, overwhelming, fast-paced and did I mention overwhelming? Thankfully, time and knowledge have made it easier, but those first few months were a challenge.

I could never explain what it is like running a food pantry. Kerri, my assistant manager and I joke that there are days that defy description. (Like the day we thought a man had died in our waiting area. Thankfully that was not the case, he was suffering from narcolepsy. After a few minutes he was fine but our adrenaline was rushing for a while.)

Some days are hectic, others are calm. Often I pray with someone in need only to turn around and have to deal with a demanding client. It is literally new every day.

Always, we do what we do with the knowledge that we are meeting a need. Food insecurity can strike anyone…anywhere…it is no respecter of persons.

Last week, sitting at the reception desk, I noticed a woman standing inside the door of our waiting area. She was wearing a dark cardigan and had her eye glasses pushed on top of her graying hair. Her clip-on sunglass lenses were popped up making her look like she was wearing mouse ears. Eyes wide, observing all the movement in the room, she was clearly unsure of what she was doing. Eventually she began to take small, hesitant steps towards me.

“Hi, ma’am, can I help you? Do you need to sign in?” I gestured toward our sign-in sheet.

She walked up to the edge of the desk as close as possible and whispered, “Can you tell me where I am?”

“This is a food pantry,” I told her, trying not to grin. Most people know exactly where they are when they walk in the door. “We help people with food, do you need food?”

Taking a deep breath, her words tumbled out in a rush, “Yes, I do. We are in a hard place. I’m hurt and can’t work and we make too much for food stamps…”

“Well you’ve come to the right place. We can help you. Just sign right here.” I pointed once again to our sign-in sheet and watched as she hesitantly filled out the information.

“Marie,* how did you find us?”

“The case worker at the DHS office gave me this address and told me to try this place but I don’t understand what it is.”

I began to explain to her how the process worked. “We’ve signed you in, and since you are new I need you to fill out this form also.” I handed her a clipboard and pen. “When you are finished, bring this back to me and keep the form to hand to your interviewer. Your interviewer will be the one to help you with the rest of the process.”

She sat down, still clearly unsure of what we were doing. It was obvious she had never visited a food pantry. I am not even sure she had heard of one.

Just then one of our volunteers pushed a shopping cart around the corner. Cringing at the sound of the wheels bumping on the tile floor, Marie stared at the food-laden basket. (We cringe too. Some of those carts are LOUD.) When he called out the name of the waiting client whose food he was delivering, Marie turned, eyes wide with amazement, “You mean we get food today? I don’t have to sign up and then come back another day?”

“Yes, you do. After your interview we will get you some food to take home this very morning.”

A few minutes later she walked back to the desk, bent down and whispered, “What kind of food do you give? What if I won’t use something? I don’t want to waste it.”

A client who was just signing in answered before I could. “They give you a check list and you don’t have to take anything you don’t want.”

Soon, others in the room chimed in…

“…it’s really easy, all you do is sign in and show your ID.”

“…you can tell them if you have food allergies.”

“…they will bring you a basket with exactly what you asked for.”

As often happens, community is created in the process of their wait time. The other clients were welcoming Marie and assuring her that she would be okay. (I’ve watched people offer rides to strangers, share food from their basket, help translate when our Spanish-speaking volunteer wasn’t available and basically meet whatever need was presented.)

Her name was called and I sent her down the hall to be interviewed by Sue, one of our sweet volunteers. (Between the two pantries we have between 60-70 volunteers who serve weekly.) She was one of our last clients of the morning and, because she was new, her interview took a bit more time. It was after lunch before she received her cart of food. It was filled to the brim with multiple sacks of food.

I stood with her by the door as she waited on her ride. She was clearly overwhelmed. “Is this correct? Can I really come back and get this much food every two weeks?”

“Yes, you can,” I assured her.

Incredulous, she was blinking back tears when she asked, “You mean I don’t have to worry about my family going hungry?”

“No, you don’t.” I was getting teary-eyed myself. “We can help you take care of that for a while.”

“Oh my…thank you. There is just so much here.”

Trying to give her time to compose herself I walked across the room to speak to a staff member. When I turned back towards her she had pulled a large loaf of Italian bread from her sack. Cradling it almost like a baby, her lips formed a silent O. Placing it carefully back in the sack she reached into another and pulled out a large bottle of orange juice. Staring for a moment, she let out a deep sigh. Finally overcome, the tears began to roll down her cheeks.

Eventually her family arrived. I helped her push her cart out the door and watched as her daughter helped her load it. Before she climbed in and shut the door she held her hands out toward me as a final thank you. “We will see you in two weeks,” I called out with a wave.

Locking the door, I turned and walked back to reception desk. It was one of those de ja vu moments when I’m reminded why I came here in the first place. Marie’s experience was much like the one I had over 25 years ago when my husband and I were struggling. I had no idea how DHS or food pantries or any other resource worked. I only knew we were broken and tired of depending on extended family to help us.

I walked in that day, signed my name on a clipboard and waited in line. I too was unsure of what I was doing. And, much like Marie, I was directed to a sweet interviewer (mine was named Cheryl) who was patient with my tears and listened to my story. She treated me with dignity, gave me food from their pantry, and offered me hope.

My days at the food pantry are filled with interesting personalities, lots of crazy moments, and occasional frustration. Most days, the impact we have on families is not seen as clearly as it was that day with Marie. But it’s cases like hers that vividly remind us why we do what we do, giving us the opportunity to be the hands and feet of Christ.

 

*name changed

FOOD INSECURITY: the state of being without reliable access to a sufficient quantity of affordable, nutritious food.

Although related, food insecurity and poverty are not the same. Poverty in the United States is only one of many factors associated with food insecurity. Food insecurity can strike anyone, but affects single parent households in higher numbers. According to the Regional Food Bank of Oklahoma, one in four children in our state struggle with hunger every day.