There are moments in this work when the grind of systems change can feel invisible. The labor of transforming food systems, nurturing soil, and restoring dignity often happens far from boardrooms and press releases. It’s in the quiet of raised beds being watered by neighbors, in the hands of elders passing down seed knowledge, and in the daily decisions we make to choose possibility over scarcity.

Recently, I was reminded how much it means when someone doesn’t just recognize your work—but sees you in it. Your presence. Your struggle. Your hope. When someone listens deeply, reflects back the heart of what you’re building, and affirms the soul of the effort—not just the outcomes—it changes something.

It reminds us that our work, rooted in soil, soul, and systems, is not charity. It is a vision of community where dignity is not something to be earned, but something to be honored.

At a time when nonprofits are being forced to make hard choices about what to cut, where to scale back, and how to stretch already fragile budgets—we know something powerful: Hope is not an empty gesture. It’s a strategy. Because we’ve seen what’s possible. We’ve seen raised beds become neighborhood markets. We’ve seen children eat meals grown by their own communities. We’ve seen hope become reality. And once you’ve seen that kind of transformation, you begin to expect it.

That’s what makes the kind of presence, support, and affirmation we’ve recently experienced so vital. It reminds us that we are not alone in this labor. That the story we tell is not ours alone. It belongs to every elder, child, farmer, caregiver, and visionary neighbor who has shaped it.

So today, I just want to say thank you—to those who walk with us, who truly see us, and who lift the narratives that too often go unheard.

You are not just allies. You are co-authors of a better future.

Let’s keep building it together.

With gratitude and solidarity,

L. Ron Pringle President & CEO, Inter-Faith Food Shuttle