Sometimes Ministry Begins With a Cup of Coffee

Sometimes the greatest lessons in ministry come when we least expect them. And sometimes, they begin with something as simple as a cup of coffee.

Thursday morning at The Salvation Army Center of Hope was not off to a particularly good start.

I had experienced one of those restless nights that many women can probably relate to. Between the wonderful joys of hot flashes and waking up several times throughout the night, I had gotten very little sleep. Then, before my workday even began, I received a call that our cook would not be coming in.

Wonderful. Just wonderful.

I was already tired, a little frustrated, and admittedly not in the best of moods. My mind was racing through everything that needed to be accomplished at the Salvation Army Center of Hope that morning. Meals still needed to be prepared, the kitchen needed attention, and we had our weekly life skills class coming up.

Like so many days in shelter ministry, there was much to do and not nearly enough time, staff, or resources to do it all.

But we do what we can with what we have. And somehow, we make it work.

One of the challenges we have faced over the past several months is something most people probably wouldn’t think twice about: coffee.

With the rising cost of groceries and everyday supplies, even providing coffee has become a financial consideration. What was once a simple daily offering has become something we can only afford to provide once a week, on Mondays.

Even our coffee pot in the dining room has been broken for some time, and we haven’t had the opportunity or the funds to replace it. When we need coffee, we borrow the coffee maker from our staff break room.

It may seem like such a small thing, but when you’re operating a family shelter and stretching every dollar to provide food, housing, and essential services, those little things add up quickly.

That Thursday morning, however, I had something on my heart.

I wanted to make coffee.

Our life skills classes are an important part of what we provide at the Center of Hope. These classes give the women we serve an opportunity to learn about community resources, personal wellness, mental health, and the many tools available to help them move toward stability and independence.

We always try to have a little something for them to enjoy during class, whether it’s juice, a snack, or whatever we have available.

And for whatever reason, on this particular Thursday, I was determined that we were going to have coffee.

So I walked over to the break room to borrow the coffee pot to our coffee maker maker.

As I was preparing it, a staff member reminded me, “Hey, Ms. Burgess, I thought we only served coffee on Mondays?”

Now, remember, I hadn’t slept well, I was short a cook, and my patience was probably running a little thin.

I may have responded a little more sharply than I intended.

But I simply said, “Well, something has been put on my heart this morning to make a pot of coffee for our ladies.”

And that was that.

I made the coffee.

Little did I know how meaningful that decision would become.

As the ladies began gathering for class, I noticed a young mother whom I’ll call Carmen.

Carmen was just 21 years old, holding her beautiful three-month-old baby boy in her arms.

She was visibly upset.

Her eyes were filled with tears, and it was obvious that she was carrying much more than the little boy she held so tightly.

I approached her and gently asked if everything was okay.

She told me no.

I didn’t know everything that was weighing on her heart that morning, and I didn’t need to. I could see that she was having a difficult time.

As we talked briefly, she shared something that caught my attention.

She desperately needed a stroller.

For three months, she had been carrying her growing baby boy in her arms as she traveled around town, attended appointments, and managed the everyday responsibilities of being a young mother.

I thought about how exhausting that must be.

Here was a 21-year-old young woman trying to navigate life with a newborn, facing circumstances most of us can only imagine, and doing so without something as basic as a stroller.

I couldn’t fix everything she was going through.

But I could offer her something.

I asked, “Do you drink coffee?”

She said yes.

“Well, how do you like it?”

She told me she liked a little sugar and plenty of cream.

Now, wouldn’t you know it, we were out of powdered creamer!

So I went into the refrigerator, found some milk, and made her a cup of coffee with a couple of spoonfuls of sugar and plenty of milk, just the way she liked it.

The cold milk cooled it down enough that she could enjoy it right away.

I carried that cup of coffee over to her, along with a granola bar and a breakfast bar, and placed everything beside her.

Nothing fancy.

Nothing expensive.

Just a warm cup of coffee, a couple of snacks, and a few moments of kindness.

Meanwhile, another little blessing was unfolding.

Every Thursday, we are fortunate to have a wonderful group of volunteers from River Oaks Church who provide childcare during our life skills classes. This allows our mothers to participate, learn, and focus on themselves for a little while, knowing their children are safe and having fun in our playroom.

One of those volunteers is Ms. Carol, whom I affectionately consider one of our superheroes.

When Carol learned that Carmen needed a stroller, she immediately said she thought she knew where she could find one.

And wouldn’t you know it?

Before class was over, Ms. Carol had found a stroller and brought it to Carmen.

Just like that.

A need had been met.

As class came to an end, I glanced over at Carmen.

Her coffee cup was empty.

One of the little snacks I had given her was gone.

And there, beside her, was a stroller for her baby boy.

But what caught my attention most was Carmen herself.

The tears that had filled her eyes earlier that morning were gone.

She looked calmer. More settled. As though, for just a little while, some of the weight she had been carrying had been lifted.

As she prepared to leave, she looked up at me and thanked me.

Then she said something I haven’t been able to stop thinking about.

“That coffee was so good. I haven’t had a cup of coffee in so long, I can’t even remember the last time.”

A cup of coffee.

That was all.

And yet, to her, it had meant so much.

I stood there for a moment, taking in what had just happened.

I thought about how my morning had started.

How tired I had been.

How frustrated I was about being short staffed, the kitchen challenges, the rising costs, and the endless responsibilities that come with operating a family shelter.

I thought about how I had walked into work that morning with a less than cheerful attitude, already overwhelmed by everything that needed my attention.

And then I thought about Carmen.

A young mother who simply needed someone to notice her.

Someone to ask if she was okay.

Someone to offer her a little kindness.

And yes, someone to make her a cup of coffee.

I couldn’t help but wonder what might have happened had I decided not to make that pot of coffee.

After all, it wasn’t Monday.

It wasn’t in the budget.

And we certainly had plenty of other things to do.

But something had been placed on my heart that morning, and I’m so grateful I listened.

Because what started as a simple decision to make coffee became something much greater.

It became an opportunity to show compassion.

An opportunity for a volunteer to meet a young mother’s practical need.

An opportunity for a struggling young woman to feel seen, cared for, and valued.

And perhaps most unexpectedly, it became an opportunity for me to receive a little encouragement of my own.

You see, working in ministry isn’t always easy.

There are days when the needs seem endless and the resources seem painfully limited. There are staffing shortages, broken equipment, rising expenses, difficult decisions, and moments when you wonder how you’re going to stretch what little you have to meet the needs of so many.

But then comes a moment like this.

A young mother.

A baby boy.

A borrowed coffee maker.

A stroller.

And a cup of coffee made with a little extra milk and sugar.

And suddenly, everything comes back into focus.

This is why we do what we do.

At the Salvation Army Center of Hope, our mission is about so much more than providing a bed and a meal. It’s about restoring hope, preserving dignity, offering compassion, and reminding people who may be facing some of the most difficult circumstances of their lives that they matter.

And sometimes, those reminders come in the smallest, simplest ways.

As I watched Carmen leave that morning with her baby boy and his new stroller, I realized that she wasn’t the only one who had received something special that day.

I had, too.

That cup of coffee had given me something I didn’t even realize I needed.

A moment to stop.

A moment to reflect.

A moment to reset my attitude and remember the purpose behind the work I have been called to do.

I had arrived that morning thinking about everything we didn’t have.

Not enough staff.

Not enough money.

Not enough resources.

Not even a working coffeepot in our dining room.

But by the time that young mother left, I was reminded of something far more important.

Even when we don’t have everything we need, we still have something to give.

And when we give it with love, even the smallest gesture can make an extraordinary difference.

Of course, the reality is that we cannot do this work alone.

Every meal we prepare, every class we offer, every child we care for, and yes, every cup of coffee we serve depends upon the generosity of people who believe in our mission.

Sometimes a donation helps provide shelter for a family.

Sometimes it puts food on the table.

Sometimes it helps a young mother get a stroller for her baby.

And sometimes, it simply allows us to offer a warm cup of coffee to someone who hasn’t enjoyed one in a very long time.

We may never fully know how far those simple acts of kindness reach.

But I know how far one cup of coffee went on a Thursday morning at the Center of Hope.

It comforted a young mother.

It opened the door for a need to be met.

And it reminded a tired, frustrated shelter director why she gets up every morning and continues doing this work.

Sometimes ministry doesn’t begin with a sermon, a grand gesture, or an elaborate program.

Sometimes ministry begins with a cup of coffee.

And sometimes, that cup of coffee ends up blessing the person who made it just as much as the person who received it.

Because at the end of the day, ministry isn’t always about how much we have to give. It’s about how much love we put into what we give.

❤️

The Salvation Army Center of Hope
Winston-Salem, North Carolina