Editor’s note: September is Hunger Action Month, a national initiative to raise awareness about food insecurity and hunger and to come together to find solutions.
The deal I made with myself went like this: Retire. Spend time with family. Travel. And then after a few years find a cause where I could make the world, or at least my little corner of the world, a better place.
You know what happened to those plans. A deadly pandemic hit. The economy stopped. No one was going anywhere, including me.
Those first few shutdown months laid bare gigantic economic, racial and social inequalities long in the making and sent millions of families into devastating financial and emotional hardships most had never experienced before. So many were suffering. So many needed help.
Like many of you, I was haunted by the thousands of deaths and blistering distress of people in need of what most of us take for granted — a decent place to live, money to pay the bills, a way to get from here to there and a kitchen full of food.
This is where faith comes into play. My faith gives me hope and calls me to help.
A recent note by a Jesuit priest put it this way: “If you truly want God, look among the poor, the sick, the homeless, the refugee, the migrant, the marginalized. This is where Jesus invites us to find God: ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.’”
Jesus made the poor a priority and tells us to respond to the greatest needs of our time with compassion, mercy and love.
So my email to the Interchurch Food Pantry of Johnson County about volunteering was a no brainer and long overdue. Within 48 hours, I found myself in the middle of a food distribution center surrounded by hope.
What I have experienced at the food pantry is a small but mighty group of volunteers dedicated to helping others. They put their heads down each day and do whatever it takes to keep the flow of food going to those who are struggling. They are organized, hard-working and kind.
Much of that can-do environment is a testament to the pantry’s leaders who insist that everyone — volunteers, clients and donors — be treated with dignity and respect.
Frankly, though, what has touched me the most are the clients, the folks who are facing life challenges most of us cannot even imagine.
I am the luckiest of volunteers because I get the privilege of meeting and greeting our clients three days a week. In just a few months, I have gotten to know many of them in ways that go way beyond taking down their names and handing them food.
I’ve listened to their stories, some heartbreaking, some joyous and some downright funny. We’ve laughed together. We’ve cried together.
“Today’s a good day,” one man said. “I got a call that I can go back to work next week.”
We both shouted a big and happy, “Yes!”
Another gentleman proudly wears a mask with a San Francisco 49ers football team logo on the protective covering. Well, that was a bit much for me, a die-hard Green Bay Packers fan. For weeks, we’ve shared plenty of good-natured ribbing.
Then there’s the stories from folks who carry on against big odds.
One woman, with black and blue bruises on her face, vowed to sleep in her car to stay away from the man who beat her. Another woman, who in the midst of breast cancer treatments and a pandemic, ventured out to get food to sustain herself even though doctors encouraged her to limit public contact. One man wondered how he could keep his apartment without a job and what would happen to him if he didn’t have a place to live. A grandmother told of how she was helping raise her grandkids as she herself faced life-altering health problems.
For many clients, the frustration spills out in tears before we even greet each other with a hello. Masks may cover most of their face, but the pain in their eyes is clear.
At the food pantry, we serve people by providing them with groceries — meats, produce, milk and much more — to nourish them physically. Yet, we strive to feed them in other ways too, through conversations and relationships.
Many come to us vulnerable and hurting. Even if just for a moment, the healing power of a human connection and a kind word can provide hope and comfort. It’s important to me that they know they are seen, heard and cared for. They matter.
Too many people are in despair, and we, as a community, as a nation and as a world, must do more to help. Constantly worrying about how you will feed your kids or pay the bills causes physical and mental health issues that can make getting through each day daunting. Children who grow up in the midst of such searing anxiety and uncertainty have higher risks for health, emotional, social and educational setbacks.
I feel myself getting a bit riled up when people say, “when the pandemic is over things will get back to normal.” For many, the end of the pandemic does not mean the end of hardship. Their struggles will go on, and our outreach to those in need must get wider and deeper.
But, for now, here is what renews me each day: Many of these folks, most with little money, limited material possessions and a long list of health and other debilitating issues, make it their sincere intention to help others.
They have shared stories about how they have taken in elderly neighbors or relatives with nowhere else to go. Some pick up food for themselves and a friend unable to leave their home. Others pledge to pay it forward once they get back on their feet.
They are all grateful in their own way. I hear it dozens of times a week: “God bless you.” “I don’t know what I would do without this place.” “This food pantry is a godsend.”
Indeed, it is. For them and especially for me.
Scarlett Syse, retired editor of the Daily Journal, has volunteered at the Interchurch Food Pantry of Johnson County in Franklin three days a week since the beginning of June. She lives in Johnson County.
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To sign up to volunteer at the Interchurch Food Pantry of Johnson County’s food distribution center, send an email to [email protected].
The distribution center is at 211 Commerce Drive, Franklin.
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If you are in need of food, come to the food distribution center from noon to 3 p.m. Monday through Friday.
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