A Story About Food, Love, Survival, and Showing Up for Each Other

Every weekend at Blessings Bee Bzzaar in Colorado Springs, we put out what we call Bundles O’ Blessings, free food baskets meant to feed a small family for one day.
People can swing by, grab one, and get through 24 hours without that heavy, shame-ridden whisper of “How am I going to feed my kids today?”

We don’t gatekeep.
We don’t ask questions.
We don’t track anyone.
We just give the food.

Most weekends we prepare 15–20 Blessings Baskets, depending on community need and donations. And each basket is packed intentionally and items usually include:

• Bread

• Peanut butter
  
  

• Potatoes

• Onions

• Garlic

• Pancake mix

• Syrup

• Ramen

• Fruits (an apple or two, an orange)

• Pasta

• Pasta sauce

• Oatmeal packets

• Swiss Miss

• Cake mix + a 7-Up or Sprite (because yes, 7-Up cake matters)

• Eggs when people pick up in person

• Gluten-free baskets too: rice, beans, GF pasta, GF bread, GF mixes

Nothing fancy. Nothing curated for Pinterest.
Just real, filling, “you’re-going-to-be-okay-for-one-more-day” food.

And here’s the truth:
This entire thing is woven from my mother’s life story.

The Woman Who Raised Me.. and Why She Cannot Let Anyone Go Hungry

Before Blessings Bee Bzzaar was ever a store, or a brand, or a thing people recognized online, it was just me, my little brother and my mom.
And before she was ever my mom… she was a starving kid.

My mother grew up in the 70s with parents who were addicts, unpredictable, and not particularly interested in feeding their child. She was so hungry she would eat crayons, back when crayons were made with animal fat and lead paint. Her favorite “flavor”?
Green.
Because when you’re starving, you’ll take whatever your body can get.

One day, a neighbor saw this skinny, hungry little girl wandering around and said, “Come eat.”
She sat my mom down and gave her spaghetti and meatballs, a memory so vivid she still talks about how it tasted, how warm it felt, how it filled her tiny belly like hope.

When her mom came home, she beat that neighbor.

That moment, like many in my mom’s childhood, shaped the way she sees hunger.
When she sees a hungry person, any age, she remembers too well what it was like. And she moves.

Adaptability: The Skill That Saved Us Both

My mom was the youngest, she helped raise her siblings’ kids.
Was kicked out and homeless at 15.
She worked minimum wage and most years made less than $5,000 a year.
But she always found a way to get food in the house.

We were on food stamps for years.
She would grocery shop in the middle of the night so us kids could wake up to food magically appearing, like she negotiated with the universe itself.

Some days I'd hear, “Mariam, bring me peanut butter and saltines.” Turning to see her shaking hands, the pale lips, 
I’d watch her eat slowly, wait 20 minutes, and she’d be okay again. She has hypoglycemia. So not eating hits extra hard for her entire system.

Food, is not just food.
It’s survival.
It’s dignity.
It’s warmth.
It’s childhood.
It’s trauma.
It’s the thing my mom always wished someone had consistently given her.

So of course the woman who raised me is the woman who packs a Mylar blanket, hand warmers, water, and Fig Newtons into little care bags for people experiencing homelessness. Long before we ever had a shop, a platform, or a community behind us.

Food Insecurity Isn’t Always What People Think It Is

My mom says it all the time:
“Not everyone is ready to go to a food bank.”

We live in a country that tells you that if you’re struggling, it must be your fault.
That if you need food, you must be “failing.”
And that shame is why many people won’t step foot into a traditional food bank until they’re in crisis.

Sometimes people just need a little help to make it to payday.
Sometimes they’re working full-time and receiving EBT, but groceries are expensive and children eat like baby linebackers.
Sometimes an unexpected bill hits, a car repair, a medical thing, a pet emergency, and food is the first place we cut.

Food insecurity isn’t just “the poor.”
It’s the newly divorced.
The injured.
The sick.
The disabled.
The freshly moved.
The overworked.
The underpaid.
The people with chronic illnesses.
The families in transition.
The folks who never thought they’d be here.

And truthfully?
Most Americans are one crisis away from hunger.

Why Weekend Food Bundles Matter So Much

Each Bundle O' Blessings is designed to feed a family of four for one day.

Not forever.
Not a full grocery haul.
Just enough to get someone through the next night without hunger pains or a sunrise without the panic of empty cabinets.

Sometimes something small is everything.

A pack of ramen.
A pancake mix that makes breakfast and dinner stretch.
A loaf of bread that becomes sandwiches.
Rice and beans for protein.
Eggs for a real meal.
Garlic and onions so food has flavor, dignity.

We don’t include meat, but if a family only has to buy one protein for the day instead of an entire meal, that makes everything easier.
Ten dollars is easier than fifty.

People are inventive.
People can cook.
People can stretch food like magicians when they need to.

Our job is not to judge, it’s to lighten the load. So be warned we may just throw a basket at you and not let you see our store because that's not what this is about. 

Community Support Turned This Into Something Bigger

We started doing this out of our own pockets. My mom's pockets...
Just her.
Just what she could afford.

Then people in the community saw what we were doing and said, “How can I help?”

Donations started coming in.
Bread.
Fruit.
Boxes of pasta.
Money to keep the baskets going.

Our community shows up in ways that solidify our faith in humanity.

We don’t hoard the food, we don’t control where it goes.
If someone wants to pick up a basket for a neighbor, a friend, a coworker, we encourage it.
All we care about is that someone, somewhere, is eating today.

Why We’ll Keep Doing It

We’ll keep making Bundles O’ Blessings until we physically can’t anymore, until we run out of resources, energy, or money. And even then, knowing my mom, she’ll still find a way to hand someone a pack of crackers and a Capri Sun.

This work is simple:
Feeding people is holy. Feeding people is essential. Feeding people is love in action.

Giving someone one solid day of “my kids won’t be hungry today” is priceless.

This is our tiny version of mutual aid.
Our quiet rebellion against shame.
Our tribute to every hungry child, including the one my mom once was.

And every weekend, when people walk out of our shop holding a Bundle O' Blessings, I know we’re doing what we’re supposed to be doing:
Making sure someone survives one more day with a little more peace of mind.

No judgment, just nourishment.

Always.

Blessings Bee Bzzaar