Photos by Karim Shamsi-Basha.
Kelly Patrick and Cathy Hand with Rosedale Food Pantry volunteers.
Sunlight streams through the open doors of the fellowship hall at Union Missionary Baptist Church in Rosedale. Long folding tables stretch across the room, and metal chairs scrape softly against the floor. A small kitchen sits to one side, its serving window overlooking the room where volunteers sort canned vegetables, bread, cereal and bags of rice into plastic bags.
Beneath that humility lives something much larger: intention, devotion and sacrifice.
Back in 2020, just as the COVID-19 pandemic swept across the country and fear settled into daily life, friends Kelly Patrick and Cathy Hand began helping a few struggling residents in Rosedale with food. At the time, no one knew how long the pandemic would last or how deeply it would affect families already living paycheck to paycheck. Grocery shelves were emptying, jobs disappeared overnight, and anxiety spread almost as quickly as the virus itself.
What began as a small act of kindness slowly transformed into something far bigger.
Six years later, The Rosedale Food Pantry supplies around 50 households with food twice a week. Yet the pantry has evolved into more than a place to collect groceries. It has become a gathering place, a support system and, for many residents, a second family.
“Right when the pandemic started, we began by leaving canned goods on shelves by the side of the road to help the residents of Rosedale,” Patrick said. “Some came outside and started talking with us. Then we did it again the next day, and the next. We came six days in a row, and something extraordinary happened.”
Rosedale sits along the edge of Homewood, an older neighborhood marked by both hardship and resilience. Small homes line narrow streets shaded by trees. Front porches lean slightly with time. Some houses are neatly painted and decorated with flowerpots, while others show signs of strain.
But Patrick and Hand never focused only on what the neighborhood lacked. They saw the people first.
“The gracious people of Rosedale have taken us in, and we have taken them in. It’s not them and us anymore,” Patrick said.
Cathy Hand (right) hugs volunteer Catherine Shearer.
Patrick speaks passionately as she describes how the tiny ministry she started with a friend gradually became what it is today. As more residents arrived for food, conversations began, and those conversations turned into enduring relationships. Soon, what began with canned goods evolved into something deeply personal.
“Now food is only one part of it,” Cathy Hand said with a warm laugh. “The first two months, we were bringing food three times a week to more and more families, and we were doing it all on the side of the road.”
That was when Reverend Michael Steele of Union Missionary Baptist Church suggested they begin meeting inside the church. Soon afterward, Reverend Tom Franklin of Homewood Community Church offered financial assistance. Then members of Oak Mountain Presbyterian Church stepped in to help as well.
“We were so blessed to have this church as our home, right here in the heart of Rosedale,” Patrick said. “Now, we talk about who is sick, who needs surgery, what somebody’s grandchildren are doing. We help when someone’s roof is leaking or their lights are about to be shut off.”
Over the years, the pantry continued growing. What started with canned food and bread expanded into help with home repairs, electrical work and emergency needs that many struggling families simply could not afford.
On this particular afternoon at Missionary Baptist Church, volunteers moved quickly through the fellowship hall preparing for residents to arrive. Plastic bags were filled with dry foods. Someone carried frozen meat into coolers while another volunteer stacked cartons of milk.
Outside, residents began arriving one by one, then in small groups. There were hugs before there were groceries. Smiles before food. Questions about children, health and aging parents filled the room.
“How’s your granddaughter doing in school?”
“Did your doctor’s appointment go alright?”
“Is your son feeling any better?”
The conversations flowed naturally, less like a charity event and more like an extended family reunion.
Then everyone gathered in a circle for fellowship and a short Bible study. The room gradually grew quiet. Heads bowed. Hands clasped.
They spoke about love, grace, compassion. Then came the prayer requests.
Someone’s father had lost his job.
Someone’s aunt was battling illness.
Someone’s son had made the honor roll at school.
The requests ranged from painful to joyful and everything in between, reflecting the complicated realities of ordinary life.
At one point, a woman quietly shared a difficult family situation. No one rushed the moment.
Kelly Patrick leads a Bible study.
Patrick and Hand later explained why they continue dedicating so much of their lives to the pantry.
“I feel joyful when I see their faces brighten,” Hand said. “These women have become much more than friends. They have become family. I feel invested in their lives spiritually, yes, but also personally.”
As Hand spoke, Patrick stood quietly beside her, tears gathering in her eyes before one slowly slipped down her cheek.
“It feels so humbling to be connected to this ministry,” Patrick said. “A few years ago, I experienced deep pain in my own family. We are all broken in some way, and walking together helps.”
Volunteer Catherine Shearer fills bags with fresh produce.
Volunteer Catherine Shearer echoed those feelings.
“This is a very special community,” Shearer said. “We hear about people’s struggles, their love for their families. We hear it all.”
Near the end of the afternoon, residents slowly gathered their grocery bags and prepared to leave. Laughter drifted through the fellowship hall again as people hugged goodbye.
Then, just before walking out the door, Rosedale resident Josephine Jerald stopped and embraced Cathy Hand tightly. Their faces were only inches apart.
“You’re feeding a lot of hungry people,” Jerald told her softly. “So many hungry people. Thank you. Keep doing what you’re doing.”
For a moment, neither woman moved.
Then Jerald smiled, picked up her bags and walked out.
After everyone left, the volunteers quietly cleaned the fellowship hall. Folding chairs were pushed back into place. Empty boxes disappeared into trash bins. Counters were wiped down until they shined. Within an hour, the room looked spotless again, as though nothing had happened there at all.
But something had happened. People were seen. Heard. Fed. Loved.
People were loved.
Kelly Patrick and Cathy Hand carried the last supplies toward their cars, while golden sunlight settled across the small church. The old building glowed warmly against a crisp sky, standing quietly like a refuge built from fellowship, love, and an absurdly ample amount of compassion.
