You Never Know Who Is Struggling Behind the Smile

Dear L’Chaim Foodbank Team,

I have for many weeks felt compelled to write to let you know how much I enjoy the Weekly Spotlight e-mails informing me what “…Your Kindness …..”

Although my contribution is small and I am unable to ‘give’ more than I am currently able to, I wanted to give you a different perspective. I would have liked to do so anonymously, however with technology as it is, I would have had to write a letter from ......., where I now live, and hope that it was actually received.

One of the reasons that I am writing is because I wonder how you get your message out into the ‘wider community’ to let people know that you exist for them. Perhaps there are still many that need help that do not even know you exist.

My story began with a substantial increase in my mortgage payments followed by the loss of a work contract. Being self-employed I have often suffered from the feast and famine experiences of great contracts and then nothing for a while but had savings from the good times. After a few months of no income and resources beginning to dry up, I happened to mention to a great friend, the figures involved with my mortgage, only to find that I was being overcharged by the mortgage company by almost threefold. A four year Court case ensued during which my home was officially repossessed although not actually taken, I suffered the humiliation of unemployment and the benefits system - The movie ‘I, Daniel Blake’ is a MUST watch for anyone to understand the true implications of relying on The State - and often had no food on the table whatsoever. That wss until I found the foodbanks of Longsight and Burnage. I HAD NO IDEA WHATSOEVER that there was a ‘Jewish’ foodbank (perhaps it didn’t exist back then), although I am not sure how I would have coped with the possible humiliation of my own kind knowing that I was destitute. You see, I occasionally would turn up for Friday night dinner at Rabbi’s house in Hale dressed in a suit, tie, freshly ironed shirt looking ‘a million dollars’, to simply enjoy a hot meat meal of cholent and roast chicken. Little did anyone know, and I would have been f

ar too embarrassed to let anyone know. Standing in line with a numbered ticket, outside a Longsight foodbank – where at least no-one would know me – whilst looking at the people around me from all walks of life, was an incredibly humbling experience and something that I would not wish on anyone. Yet it began to teach me not to judge and also how no-one can ever know your situation, when society today is often all about keeping up appearances. After I finally won the Court case and changed careers, things improved and I left England for good, although self-employment for me has remained a roller coaster of a financial ride and still is.

I hope that ‘soon’ I am be able to contribute more and in the meantime, want to thank you again for the e-mails which make me feel grateful that in some small way, I am helping that little bit.

Wishing the whole team a fun, enjoyable, Hag with much fulfilment.

All the best,

Sometimes the most important part of a food parcel is not what is inside it.

It is what it says:

You have not been forgotten.

This Sukkos, one of our volunteers arrived at the home of an older gentleman who had been unwell.

He was finding it difficult to get out.

His family could not always be there.

And while the neighbourhood around him was busy preparing for Yom Tov, he was facing something much quieter:

A fridge that was running low.

A table that felt empty.

And the feeling that Sukkos might simply happen somewhere else this year.

Then there was a knock at the door.

L’Chaim had arrived.

First came the food.

Chicken.

Gefilte Fish.

Challah.

Fruit.

Groceries.

Enough to make the table feel like Yom Tov again.

He looked through the bags slowly.

Then he stopped and said:

“I didn’t think I was going to have a proper meal this year.”

That sentence stayed with us.

Because food insecurity is not only about hunger.

It is about the loss of normality.

The loss of dignity.

The feeling that the things everyone else takes for granted — a proper meal, something warm, something special for Yom Tov — are suddenly out of reach.

A little while later, our volunteer brought out a lulav and esrog.

He looked surprised.

“For me?”

He took the lulav carefully.

Made the bracha.

Shook it slowly.

And smiled.

Then he looked at the food on the table and said:

“Now it feels like Sukkos.”

That is the impact your partnership makes possible.

A meal.

A mitzvah.

A moment of connection.

For one person, it meant much more than groceries.

It meant being included.

It meant dignity.

It meant that even though he could not get out to the community, the community came to him.

This is what L’Chaim Foodbank does every week of the year.

Food for families.

Deliveries for those who cannot collect.

Practical support for people facing difficult moments.

And during Yom Tov, something extra:

The chance to make sure no one feels left behind.

Thank you for helping us bring food, warmth and Yom Tov dignity into local homes.