Lessons From The Food Bank

This time of year, it seems everyone is focusing on the blessings in his or her life, as well as giving warmth thoughts toward those less fortunate. In my own classroom, as well as in my son's first grade classroom, non-perishable food donations are being collected. Grocery stores have collection barrels for donations.

Most of us can be bothered to clean a can or two of food off our shelves and bring it to a donation spot. Many years ago, I would take the opportunity to get rid of the tomato sauce can which never got made into chili a few months ago, or the three cans of tuna which have been in the back corner of the pantry for a while. But that was BEFORE.

Take a moment to consider just who are those "less fortunate" people. Most think of the deadbeats, the welfare lovers and the users. In today's economy we might consider a few unemployed folks and give a can or two more. In the not-so-distant past, however, I learned the terrible truth: the less fortunate folks are like you and me. Especially me. Because I did have to make a withdrawal from a food bank.

We were living in Pennsylvania. He who calls me wife had been injured and was unable to work, then was fired. His disability claims had not yet been approved. I was working part-time. We had no money. We did have a baby, who needed diapers, milk, and food. We tried. We found money when we could. We did without a LOT. But then there came a time where the only thing emptier than the pantry was our bank account. My employer knew how hard we had it, and suggested the local food pantry. We resisted. And resisted. And resisted.

I am not a stranger to charity. My upbringing by a single mom meant empty cupboards and lots of making do. We were once anonymously gifted a box of food. We knew how to make welfare cheese blocks, butter, and powdered milk last. We joke to this day about the HUGE can of baked beans we had. I remember eating a bowl of Crispix from a huge box we were given, and wondered to myself why no one ever gives Lucky Charms to poor people.

So imagine my shame at facing a similar situation for my child. We made the appointment for the food bank. I could not bring myself to face it, and my wonderful husband visited alone with he who calls me mommy in tow for the first time. We were relieved to have food n the house, but hubby cried when he described his feelings about having been there. My heart broke.

The second month I went with him. My face hurt for the shame I was feeling. I was conscious of being overweight and in a food pantry. The way the workers tried to be friendly and courteous as they guided us through each section, telling us how many items we could choose. I felt like I didn't deserve to choose.

So the donations were what we got to choose from. Those cans of tuna came round to face me. Those expired cans of peaches you sent to your kid's classroom? That became my son's dinner.

So now it is AFTER and my opinions on food pantries, donations, and who goes to them are completely different. I will donate food I would actually want to eat. I will donate junk food like cake mixes or Lucky Charms. And I will pray over each thing, so that the shamed, desperate person who has sunk as low as they ever care to who receives it also is given hope and strength.

I do have more blessings than I could possible count. And I am thankful for having survived my time of poverty and desperation. And I am thankful that food pantries exist, and that the people who work in them are kind and understanding.

God bless us, every one.