More Than Groceries: Building a Community of Care

Bruce and Pascale are married. They volunteer at The Store together.

Two and a half years ago, they met a customer named Miss Eleanor.

They clicked right away.

“I like to write her a note every few weeks.”

That’s Pascale. Nothing dramatic — just what she’s been up to lately. Then Miss Eleanor comes in to shop, and they pick the conversation back up.

They know what’s usually in her cart. Canned vegetables, water, fresh melons, spinach.

Bruce and Pascale are at The Store multiple times a week. They stock shelves. They greet people coming through the door. They walk the aisles alongside customers who want company while they shop.

Most people assume The Store exists to feed hungry people.

At one level, that’s exactly right, and I’d never want to downplay it. Every customer who walks through our doors leaves with a cart full of fresh, healthy groceries. That matters more than most people know.

But I’ve come to think something else is going on in that building — and it may be the deeper thing.

The Store exists to build a community of care.

Our customers are fed by it. Our volunteers are fed by it. Our staff are fed by it.

I’m fed by it.

Pascale said the friendships get built while you’re helping someone shop.

“That’s when you spend the most time with a person, and some folks are willing to talk about their story.”

You can’t schedule that. It won’t fit neatly in a grant report.

It happens because the same people keep coming back to the same place, week after week, learning each other’s names.

To be honest, I don’t have a good way to measure any of it.

What I know is that a note goes out to Miss Eleanor every few weeks. She comes in, and they pick up right where they left off.

The community table. Where all who are hungry are fed.

That’s the part nobody told me about when I took this job.