Quiet Moments That Define Our Culture

One of the things I love most about my job is hearing what our volunteers and staff mention almost in passing about their day. It is rarely earth-shattering. To them, it is just what they do. Over time, it has become the culture.

Early this week, a staff member stopped by my office and said, “You should go ask about what happened on Saturday.”

They do this intentionally, offering no details and leaving me wondering what I am about to hear.

Last Saturday, while the office was closed and most of us were wrapped up in weekend plans, a member of our Client Services team was in the building helping volunteers with our Holiday Project. These weekend wrapping parties are a significant amount of effort, but best done on the weekend when we are not delivering and the building is quiet. This day the phone rang.

She recognized the number right away. It belonged to Kevin, one of our longtime volunteer drivers. Or more accurately, it belonged to his nephew, who had left a message earlier and was hoping someone would call him back.

When she returned the call, she learned the family was worried. Kevin had been in a car accident over Thanksgiving. He seemed okay at first, but in the days that followed, he wasn’t feeling well. His nephew noticed changes that concerned him. Kevin wasn’t answering his phone, and no one had been able to reach him.

She listened. She reassured him. And then she did something that, when she tells it, sounds completely natural to her.

She told him she would go check on Kevin.

She drove over to his house. The doors were locked. The house was dark. There was no movement. She knocked, rang the doorbell, checked windows, and even talked with neighbors. No one had seen Kevin that day.

She called his nephew back and shared what she had found. They talked through next steps, including whether a wellness check might be needed. She explained what those checks can and cannot do, and she stayed with the family through the uncertainty.

Before leaving, she went back one more time.

Just as she was preparing to head out, a car pulled into the driveway. It was Kevin.

He recognized her immediately. “You’re Meals on Wheels,” he said.

She explained why she was there. His nephew had been worried. People were checking in on him because they care.

As she shared this story with me, she also shared how scared she had been when the house was dark and quiet. How grateful she felt when Kevin pulled into the driveway. How hard it can be to care deeply while still respecting someone’s independence.

Kevin has been part of Meals on Wheels of Loveland and Berthoud for years. As a volunteer driver, he was known for his big smile, a cup of coffee, and greeting everyone he saw. He has given so much of his time and heart to this organization..

I am continually impressed by how much our staff and volunteers care. Not because they are told to. Not because it is in a job description. But because they see the people behind the meals, and those relationships matter.

I hear stories like this often. Most of them are quiet. Many of them would never be shared unless someone stopped to listen.

I’m privileged that I get to listen and to work alongside people who care this deeply.

Thank you for reading.

Jeffrey

(Names and identifying details have been changed, and the photo shown is not of the individual in this story but represents him.)