Erika Leiva Jirón

Twelve years ago, I stepped into this place with more hope than certainty—wearing a borrowed apron and carrying a soul full of longing. I came only to serve, to offer a warm plate and a shred of dignity to those the world had cast aside. But I didn’t know then that I wasn’t just walking into a kitchen—I was walking into my healing.

This sacred ground saw me grow.

It taught me how to cook, yes—but more than that, it taught me how to listen with love, see with compassion, and serve with devotion. I learned that while a warm stew may quiet the hunger of the body, a kind word can rescue a soul from despair. I discovered that true service is not just about food—it is about restoring humanity, kindling hope, and sometimes, quietly reviving faith.

I rose slowly, with humility as my companion and effort as my guide.

From stacking chairs and serving food, I stepped—one loving act at a time—into leading a kitchen that now feeds hundreds of hearts every day. But I never forgot: no role is small when it is done in love. Here, from the one who scrubs the floors to the one who steers the mission, we are bound by a shared flame—the one that burns for others.
My children grew up here too—under tents, beneath scorching sun, amidst the clatter of trays and the laughter of souls who possess little, yet give everything. They didn’t just receive education—they received character, compassion, and love without measure. This place shaped me—not only as a mother and a woman—but it also formed my children into people of deep purpose.

And so, how could my gratitude fit into one mere testimony?

You—my fellow workers, volunteers, leaders, donors, friends—you have not only been my colleagues; you have become my second family. My confidants. My silent mentors. In each of you, I have seen a heart that beats for others—and that is a rare and sacred gift.

Thank you.

Thank you for the trust. Thank you for allowing me to become a living part of this labor of love.

Thank you for every exhausting day, for every joyful child with a full belly, for every elder who walks away with hope in their step once more. Because in every ladle of rice served, I too was nourished—by faith.

And I’m not going anywhere.

I remain here, anchored in hope and in God, who I believe will grow this beautiful family called LTN. I continue to serve. I continue to learn. I continue to love.

Because this kitchen is not just where I work—it is where my heart found its home.

And lastly—though words fall short—I offer my deepest, most indescribable thanks to Tim and Amy Taylor… for welcoming me not only into this mission, but into their family.