A Thanksgiving Break That Became So Much More Than a Vacation
Every year around Thanksgiving, we pause, breathe, and acknowledge how blessed we are: warm home, family dinners, holidays filled with laughter and abundance. But this year, I wanted that gratitude to mean something. Not only in words, but in practice.
I wanted my children to understand that the world outside their comfort is bigger, harder, less protected, and also incredibly worth loving and helping.
So on the Saturday after Thanksgiving, instead of filling our day with rest, or leftover pumpkin pie right away, we volunteered at a U.S. Hunger meal-packing event at a Universal Orlando resort location. It was our first time working with this organization, and I intentionally signed up for just one hour. I wasn’t sure how the kids would react, how long their focus would last, or whether the experience would feel overwhelming or energizing. I wanted to ease them into it; gently, positively, joyfully.
Little did I know how much that hour would matter.
Why I Wanted to Begin Teaching My Children About Need
I grew up in a country where my family lived a good and comfortable life. We were safe, provided for, and privileged; something I fully appreciate now as an adult. But privilege didn’t separate us from the realities around us. Every morning on the way to school, dance lessons, a friend’s party, or even grocery shopping, we passed children sleeping under cardboard, mothers sitting barefoot on sidewalks with babies in their laps, and men digging through bins hoping to find food.
A childhood friend told me, as an adult, he barely remember those scenes. He learned to tune it out like background noise.
I never could.
Those images rooted themselves in me; not as trauma, but as awareness. I knew even as a child that life was not equal, not simple, not guaranteed. And that awareness shaped me.
When we eventually moved to the United States, we experienced more stability overall, though not every chapter was perfect. There were moments of stretching finances, adjusting to a new culture, fitting into a new world. We never needed food assistance, but life wasn’t always polished or effortless. Those experiences helped me develop empathy, not only for those who have less, but for anyone navigating uncertainty.
This is why I want my children to learn early what kindness looks like in action, not in theory : age-appropriate, hopeful, empowering exposure to how we can serve others.
Why We Chose U.S. Hunger for Our First Step
There are many ways to serve, food distribution, clothing drives, direct outreach to the unhoused, but I knew I needed a gentle entry point for my girls. I wasn’t ready for them to confront homelessness up close. Not because I want to shield them forever, but because I want to prepare them gradually, without shock or emotional overload.
The U.S. Hunger meal-packing model was perfect: upbeat, structured, team-based, kid-friendly, and meaningful.
A friend joined us with her children, something that made the experience feel exciting rather than intimidating. The girls immediately relaxed when they realized they were serving alongside people they knew. Later they even spotted someone else they recognized, and I think that mattered; seeing a familiar face made service feel normal and community-driven, not something unusual or intimidating. Small world!! Helping others became normal, not exceptional.
Inside the Packing Room: Hairnets, Lentils, Music & Joy
When we arrived, check-in was smooth and organized. We were given gloves, hairnets, and a quick orientation; simple, clear, efficient. This event was air-conditioned, comfortable, and full of energy. Not somber. Not heavy. Hopeful.
Long tables stretched across the room like a production line. Volunteers filled small bags with dried rice, lentils, dehydrated vegetables, and a carefully measured pinch of salt. Those bags moved down the table to be weighed, adjusted, heat-sealed, labeled, and boxed; each one representing a meal for someone who might otherwise go without.
My girls immediately claimed their station: heat sealing and labeling. I suggested they try measuring rice and lentils to experience both sides of the process, but they were fiercely loyal to their post; tiny, determined workers taking their job very seriously.
At one point, Della happily took over weighing adjustments, carefully adding or removing a few grains to hit the exact target. It was the perfect task for a kid: responsibility with visible results.
And the soundtrack? Not silence. Not sadness.
“Funkytown” by Lipps Inc. played while we sealed meal bags.
Which might be one of my favorite memories of the entire time.
There was joy in that room, not pity. Movement, rhythm, purpose.
Children counting, adults scooping, boxes filling; hope becoming tangible.
A Moment That Made Me Laugh
When the hour ended, my children took off their gloves and hairnets with great ceremony because they did not like being photographed in the hairnets during the event. They also immediately asked:
“Do you think there’s a Starbucks here?”
They reasoned that a resort must have one, and they were absolutely correct in their logic. One wanted a chai latte, the other a berry refresher. They saw generosity as something you do, and then you celebrate. It was ironic but I couldn’t help but laugh.
Volunteering didn’t drain them. It energized them.
The Sweetest Innocent Comment of the Day
At one point, Della said something I’ll never forget:
“The people who get this food are so lucky; rice and lentils is my favorite meal.”
She didn’t yet grasp why this meal was chosen; that it’s shelf-stable, inexpensive, filling, culturally adaptable, and nutritious. She simply saw food she loved and believed someone else was being gifted something wonderful.
It was such a pure, unfiltered child-perspective moment; the kind that made me realize how early compassion grows when nurtured, not forced.
Driving Home, I Felt Something Quiet But Profound
On the way home, the girls sat in the backseat talking about how many bags they sealed and who was fastest. I felt a soft glow settle in me; not pride in what we accomplished (though thousands of meals were packaged that day), but pride in the seeds we planted.
I didn’t want them to leave with guilt or sadness. I wanted them to leave with understanding and joy. And they did. As a mother, that felt right. Good. Aligned. Like I had done something that mattered. And let’s face it ladies, sometimes it feels like moments like these are so few!
A Memory From College That Never Left Me
Years ago, my sister and I volunteered at a homeless shelter for a birthday celebration. I expected to see adults, maybe a few older teens. Instead, the room was filled with families; children who attended school during the day and slept in a shelter at night. They laughed, played, wore their nicest clothes, and celebrated like all children should be able to.
That night has lived in my memory ever since because it was one of the first times I did something like this and very impactful.
One day, when my girls are older and emotionally stronger, I hope to volunteer with them in that kind of environment too. A place where service means looking someone in the eyes, handing them cake, celebrating their life with them. But we will step toward that slowly, gently, respectfully. U.S. Hunger was step one.
Why Volunteering Matters for Kids — 5 Core Benefits
1. Gratitude becomes natural, not forced.
Instead of only hearing about need in abstract terms: hunger, homelessness, illness, kids actively take part in meeting those needs. When they hold the food they packed or see how many meals they helped prepare, gratitude becomes something they feel rather than something we lecture. It’s no longer be thankful, it’s wow… some kids don’t have what I do, and it lands deeper.
2. They learn responsibility through real tasks.
Volunteering gives children meaningful work, not pretend jobs. Sealing, weighing, labeling; they see that their hands matter. They understand that accuracy and effort have consequences, that someone they’ll never meet will rely on the task they completed correctly. It’s responsibility in motion, not in theory.
3. Service becomes normalized.
When kids volunteer alongside peers, family, classmates, or even strangers, kindness stops being something unusual or staged. It becomes part of the rhythm of life. They grow up seeing service as something people do, not just something adults talk about. It quietly builds a worldview where caring for others is standard practice.
4. Empathy becomes active.
Volunteering bridges the gap between feeling bad for someone and stepping into their story with compassion. Kids realize that empathy is more than emotion; it’s action. It’s choosing to help instead of looking away. They experience firsthand that kindness has a ripple effect, and that even small hands can make a big difference..
5. They gain pride rooted in contribution, not achievement.
So many childhood achievements are measured: grades, sports, performance, competition. Volunteering rewires that. The proud moment isn’t about winning; it’s about purpose. They get to say I helped, I contributed, I mattered. Pride rooted in service builds identity differently and is less dependent on applause.
Practical Guide: How to Introduce Your Kids to Volunteering
- Start small (one hour is perfect).
Enough to engage, not overwhelm.
- Choose something tactile and hands-on.
Kids stay invested when they can see results. - Go with friends — or meet them there.
Shared experience eases nerves and builds excitement. - Talk after, not during.
Reflection is where meaning forms. - Celebrate the work.
We got Starbucks afterward; no guilt attached.
Volunteering shouldn’t traumatize children into awareness; it should invite them into it.
Unexpected Bonus: It Counts as School Volunteer Hours
Later, I remembered that my girls have a school service requirement. They get to log this hour on their volunteer tracker, something I had completely forgotten about. So this wasn’t just meaningful in the heart-sense, it was also productive for their academic goals.
One hour down. Many more to come.
This Was Just the Beginning
We will volunteer again, maybe for two hours next year, maybe as a family, maybe somewhere new. The goal isn’t to increase the hours. It’s to increase the understanding.
I don’t want my children to grow up blind to suffering or numb to need. I want them awake. Aware. Willing to help.
Not out of guilt; but out of love.
If volunteering teaches them that even small hands can make a difference, then I have done my job well.
And next Thanksgiving break, I hope we’re right back there, sealing bags to disco music, hairnets slightly askew, doing good in a world that needs softness.