The Day Hunger Became Personal for Me

^{Hope grows when we reach out a hand.}

There are some moments in life you never forget — the kind that change the way you see the world forever.

For me, one of those moments happened in 2018. I was standing in line at a local food bank, holding a number in my hand, waiting for my turn. I wasn’t volunteering. I wasn’t dropping off donations. I was there because my family needed help.

Up until that point, hunger had always been something I heard about in the news… something that happened to other people. Hardworking people. Good people. People who just needed a little help to get through a rough time.

I never expected I would be one of them.

Just a year earlier, I had earned the most money of my career. I had finished my master’s degree. I thought I was building a strong future for my family. I was doing everything “right.” And then—very quickly—life shifted. A series of difficulties and financial setbacks hit at once, and suddenly I was struggling to provide for my four young children.

And let me tell you—hunger feels different when it's your kids looking up at you.

I remember standing there in line, watching families come and go. Moms, dads, grandparents, teenagers, little ones… people who looked tired, worried, or embarrassed — but also deeply grateful.

That day, hunger stopped being a statistic and became a reality.
A humbling, sacred one.

It opened my eyes.

I saw that hunger is not a “them” problem. It’s an us problem. It touches people of every background, every neighborhood, and every belief. Many families are just one job loss, medical bill, or unexpected turn away from needing help.

And ever since that day, one message has stayed with me:

If I could go from doing well to standing in that line… anyone could.

I promised myself that when life stabilized and I had the chance, I would do something to help others who find themselves where I once stood — especially the children.

Kids should never have to worry about where their next meal is coming from.
That’s a burden far too heavy for a child to carry.

Years later, when the idea came to use bubbles — something joyful, hopeful, and childlike — to spark awareness and generosity, it just made sense. Hunger is heavy… but hope can be light.

Bubbles have a funny way of reminding us that even small things matter.
A single bubble doesn’t seem like much, but together… they can fill a sky.

And that’s how I see this mission:

We don’t need one person to do everything — we just need many people to do something.

• A penny a bubble.
• One dollar a child.
• One act of kindness.
• One family choosing to help another.

Because hunger becomes less overwhelming when we focus on helping the one in front of us.

I can’t fix hunger for the whole world.
But I can try to make sure one less child goes to bed hungry.
And if you’re reading this… maybe together we can help two, or ten, or twenty.

Thank you for being here.
Thank you for caring.
And thank you for believing that small things — like bubbles, hope, and kindness — can make a big difference. Let's each make a pledge to help the one.

One bubble at a time,
– Jarom