30 days in 3 hours.

The word of the day: grateful.

The experience in feeding the hungry when you’re fasting during Ramadan is extremely humbling, to say the least.

A few coworkers and I gathered at the Holy Apostles Church this morning to serve a meal to hundreds of New Yorkers from all walks of life.


I was assigned bussing duty, a task that allowed me to stretch my legs and pass the time more quickly. I hovered around tables 14 through 16, watching visitors like hawks so that the second anyone rose to leave, I’d dash over to their seat and wipe down the area for the next person. (May have taken my job a little too seriously.)

In these few hours, I’ve come across some of the kindest and most appreciative people. I know, I know–this story reads as super cliche. Girl who has always had a roof over her head and a hot meal to eat goes to soup kitchen, meets people who know the real meaning of hunger, feels slap from reality.

The thing is, it’s not that I’m not appreciative of the things I have. But running about today with my tummy rumbling and helping hundreds today led to an epiphany of sorts.

I realized that regardless of the purpose of fasting, the fact that abstaining from eating or drinking for myself and everyone that I know is ultimately a choice–because sunrise or sunset, sustenance is readily available to us at all times.

The lessons of Ramadan were encapsulated this morning.

As the great Kendrick Lamar has said, “be humble.”



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