Volunteers circle the lobby of Lubbock Impact, preparing the day’s task. Krystal Bennett gives instructions for distributing 275 Thanksgiving meal kits. Cars have been lined up in the parking lot since 7:30 this morning. Each one gets a turkey and two sacks containing ingredients for casseroles and pies.
They’ve been feeding the community for 13 years. This year looks different for so many reasons. Because of the pandemic, all of Lubbock Impact’s operations are done by drive-thru. And they’re operating without their key leader—Rory Thomas—loss that shook the entire organization at the end of October.
As Bennet winds down her instruction, she sends the volunteers out on one note. “I was not worried about [COVID-19]. But it took our Rory and if it took Rory it could happen to any of us, she said, “so I want you to wear your mask.”
Thomas died from complications brought on by the coronavirus—one of the over 300 deaths Lubbock has seen since March. She was the executive director of Lubbock Impact—an organization that provides food, medical services and other essentials to the working poor. Bennet stepped in to manage the Wednesday meal distribution.
On a typical Wednesday night, before COVID, the organization would feed 250 to 350 people at a sit-down meal, according to Bennet. “When COVID came around we switched over to a car drive-thru format. We prepare 250 sacks.”
Each of those sacks feeds four to six people. So, through the pandemic, they’ve nearly quadrupled the number of people they feed. They’ve perfected the weekly routine, even through their grief.
Wanda Brunson worked closely with Thomas as their director of operations. “She and I had been here for 13 years since the start of Lubbock Impact,” Brunson said. The two managed the day-to-day tasks for the organizations. “We were a team,” she recalled.
Outside of the building, Brunson greets each car as it drives up. She checks her list and shouts a number to the volunteers to indicate how many bags to give them.
The team moves as a singular organism. They’ve been doing this for months now and can get through the line in 45 minutes flat—if needed. Today they’re taking their time with each car, talking and praying with the passengers.
“It still doesn’t feel real a lot of the time,” Brunson said, “We chose to keep on going. Rory wouldn’t have wanted us not to do what we’re doing just because she passed.” It was extremely difficult.
Brunson’s daughter, Brandi Carter, was Rory’s personal assistant. She stepped in to take over some of the workload. “She was one person and we’ve had six people pull together to do what she could do.”
As the sacks begin to dwindle, volunteers fall into conversation around the front lobby. They share how Rory recruited each one of them to Lubbock Impact. Stephanie Wallace was a retired manager in technology when Rory enlisted her as their volunteer coordinator.
“Watching her work was really kind of amazing,” she said. “She just had this way of seeing people’s gifts and where they best fit.”
They laugh recalling her loving, yet assertive, demeanor that helped her connect with their clients. Some break down in tears as they speak. “It would be my vote to just change it from Lubbock Impact to Rory’s Impact,” Bennet said. “Rory’s been a part of Lubbock Impact since the idea was conceived.”
Lubbock Impact plans to hire a new executive director in the near future. Rory’s shoes, according to everyone involved, will be difficult to fill. “When we lost Rory, we sort of lost the person who had a vision for what was coming next,” said Glenna Applewhite who serves on their board.
They will be tasked with finding the person to step into the role. “Rory had a call. Our volunteers, those folks are here to push forward Rory’s legacy.”
