At work, Paul was the kind of person who stayed mostly in the background. He was polite, dependable, and quiet, often going unnoticed in the rush of office life. Every day he brought the same simple peanut butter and jelly sandwich wrapped in wax paper, a routine that sparked light teasing from coworkers who assumed it was simply a habit. When Paul resigned without much explanation, I offered to help him clean out his desk.
That’s when I discovered a bundle of children’s drawings hidden in his drawer—pictures of families, hearts, and kids holding sandwiches with messages of gratitude. It was clear these drawings meant something important, even though Paul had never talked about children in his life. Curious, I followed his invitation to visit the West End Library one evening. There I saw Paul standing outside with a cooler full of brown paper lunch bags.
A group of children, some facing difficult circumstances, waited quietly in line as he handed out meals with gentle encouragement. He explained that many of them often missed dinner, so he prepared food every day to make sure they had something reliable. The sandwiches he brought to work weren’t for himself—they were practice batches for the meals he gave to the kids. His quiet routine, once a source of office jokes, suddenly made perfect sense. I began helping him regularly, and eventually learned that Paul had grown up in foster care, where food insecurity was a familiar experience.
Making sandwiches became his personal way of offering stability to children facing similar struggles. When Paul later collapsed from exhaustion, the office team stepped in. We organized “Sandwich Fridays,” created lunch bags, and helped continue his efforts while he recovered. After recovering, Paul founded a nonprofit called One Meal Ahead. His goal was simple: give children one dependable meal to ease their toughest days. Through his steady kindness, he changed countless lives, showing that even small acts of care can create lasting impact.