Feeding Hope

Chapter 6The Dignity Difference

The Day That Changed Everything

It was a Friday morning in 2016 when I drove to College Park to volunteer at a local nonprofit that hosted weekly food giveaways. I'd been feeding people for years through Sunday Soul ATL, but that day felt different from the start. I was excited—eager to help, curious to see how other organizations were tackling hunger. The work had been on my heart for so long that I welcomed any chance to serve, to learn, to be part of something bigger.

Their office was small, tucked into an older building off a busy street. There was nothing glamorous about it—fluorescent lights, scuffed linoleum floors, folding tables lined up across a modest lobby. Six or eight of us volunteers stood side by side, passing bags down the line, each of us adding whatever items we were assigned. It was warm inside, and the air smelled faintly of cardboard and canned food. People chatted quietly as we worked, some humming to gospel music playing from a radio in the corner.

At first, I was just focused on the task—helping, smiling, doing what needed to be done. But as we started packing the bags, something inside me began to shift. I glanced down at what I was holding: a gallon of Sonny's barbecue sauce. Then came Weight Watchers Ding Dongs. A tiny can of corn. Two random canned vegetables. A pack of superhero‐shaped macaroni noodles. French‐fried green onions, the kind people sprinkle on top of casseroles around the holidays. I looked at the pile ...