My landlord Alan called saying not to worry about this month’s rent. When he asked if we had food, I admitted we only had three packs of meat left. He simply said “be safe.”
Minutes later, he texted: “Go to your front porch please!” There sat bags of groceries—fresh produce, pantry staples, everything we needed. My heart is so touched by what he did for my family. God bless this man.
The phone call started like so many difficult conversations during hard times. Alan, the landlord, calling about rent. But instead of demanding payment or threatening eviction, he said something that took the weight off immediately: “Don’t worry about this month’s rent.”
Relief washed over. One less thing to stress about. One less impossible decision between paying rent or feeding the family. But then Alan asked a follow-up question that revealed something deeper: “Do you have food?”
The honest answer was painful to admit. “We only have three packs of meat left.”
Alan didn’t lecture. He didn’t offer advice about budgeting or suggest places to get assistance. He just said two words: “Be safe.”
And then he hung up.
Minutes later, a text: “Go to your front porch please!”
On the porch sat bags of groceries. Not just a token gesture—actual groceries. Fresh produce. Pantry staples. Everything a family needs to get through the week, maybe longer. Alan hadn’t just waived the rent. He’d made sure they could eat.
This story is a reminder that kindness doesn’t always announce itself. Alan didn’t make a big show of his generosity. He didn’t post about it on social media or tell everyone what a good person he was. He just asked a question, listened to the answer, and quietly did something about it.
He could have stopped at waiving the rent. That alone would have been generous, more than most landlords would do. But he went further. Because he understood that rent isn’t the only thing people struggle with. That when someone says they only have three packs of meat left, they’re not just talking about food—they’re talking about fear, about uncertainty, about the stress of not knowing how they’ll make it through the month.
Alan saw that. And he acted.
This is what compassion looks like in practice. Not pity. Not judgment. Just recognition that someone needs help, followed by the decision to provide it. No strings attached. No demands for gratitude or repayment. Just groceries on a porch and a text that says, “Go look.”
The family didn’t have to beg. They didn’t have to prove they were deserving or explain how they ended up in this situation. Alan just asked, listened, and helped. And that’s how it should be.
We live in a world where landlords are often vilified—and sometimes for good reason. Stories of evictions, rent hikes, and indifference to tenant struggles are common. But this story is different. This is about a landlord who saw his tenants as people, not just sources of income. Who understood that his role wasn’t just to collect rent, but to be a decent human being when people were struggling.
God bless this man. That’s how the story ends. And it’s the right ending. Because Alan didn’t just help a family get through a hard month—he restored their faith that there are still people in the world who care. Who show up. Who do the right thing without needing applause.
The groceries will run out eventually. The financial struggles will continue. But the memory of this moment—of a landlord who asked if they had food and then made sure they did—that will last. That will be the story they tell when someone asks if people are still good. And the answer will be yes. Because of Alan.