One Christmas, when Jordan was a preschooler, his mom, Fran, went to the local Catholic school and asked the nuns for the name of a local family in need. The nuns gave Fran a name, The Williamses, and an address for an apartment complex on Tulsa’s westside, one of the toughest neighborhoods in town. Fran loaded Jordan and his two brothers into their wood-trimmed minivan and drove to the apartment complex, making stops at the grocery store and Target for food, clothes, and gifts. When the minivan reached the complex, Fran, with her bundled-up little boys in tote, carried the needed supplies to the family’s front door, and knocked.

What Fran saw next shocked her and rocked her little sons to their cores: absolutely nothing. The cold apartment was empty except for a mother, her children, and a small, bare Christmas tree with no presents underneath. The power was off. No lights. No heater. There was no furniture to sit on. No decorations on the walls.

Nothing.

Mrs. Williams welcomed Fran and her boys into their apartment. Jordan and his brothers placed the gifts underneath the tree, while Fran talked with Mrs. Williams and helped her unload the bags of food, but what Fran saw next saddened her more than almost anything in her life. She opened the cupboards one at a time. Each time, nothing. Not a single speck of food. Not a can. Not a crumb. Next, she opened the fridge. Again, nothing. She tried to act normal and make conversation with Mrs. Williams. She tried not to act like she’d just witnessed something horrible, something terrible, but she had, and it’s all she could think about. Fran kept cool, made casual conversation with Mrs. Williams, finished loading the groceries, and spent some time watching her babies play with Mrs. Williams’s in the living room.

When it was time to go, she said goodbye to Mrs. Williams, and her boys said goodbye to her boys. Everyone wished everyone a “Merry Christmas” even though what they’d just seen didn’t feel merry or like Christmas at all. As the minivan pulled out of the westside parking lot and pulled onto the icy road toward home, Fran’s boys were troubled. Their little hearts just didn’t understand why some people could have so much while others didn’t have enough. Fran tried to explain it. She tried to make sense of it all. But she couldn’t. Because it didn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense. The best she could do, by her example, is teach her boys what Jesus taught: It is more blessed to give than to receive.

One-in-four Arizona children go to bed hungry each night, and over Christmas break, the children who rely on breakfast and lunch from the local public schools have nowhere to turn. That’s where YOU come in! Every Christmas, our church organizes a drive called Family to Family, a campaign to fill 10,000 boxes of food with 23 specific items that will feed 5,000 families over the two-week Christmas break to ensure that NO child goes hungry on Christmas. Here’s a little look at last year’s drive.

You don’t have to attend our church or any church to participate. Poverty and hunger are non-denominational and non-partisan. If you’d like to get involved, all you need to do is check out this website. If you can’t pick up a box, fill it up, and drop it off at one of our church’s four locations valleywide, send us an email and we’ll do it for you! The boxes cost about $40.

Let’s get this Christmas season started off right!

Thanks, friends!