This is an archived article that was published on sltrib.com in 2011, and information in the article may be outdated. It is provided only for personal research purposes and may not be reprinted.
Shauna Devenport will never meet most of the people who stop by her front porch, but many won't forget her brick bungalow by the highway and the sourdough and rye that kept them alive.
Baguettes peek over the edge of cardboard boxes near her front door. Cakes sit in a tower nearby. And one by one they disappear as the hungry appear throughout the day.
Nearly two decades have passed since her spontaneous ministry began, transforming the 55-year-old red-headed baggage handler into a collector of day-old bakery goods and surplus groceries — all before she goes to work.
Devenport always tries to leave her Salt Lake City porch light on, because the boxes remain outside overnight. People have come by with flashlights. One time someone even left with the light bulb.
But for the most part, folks respect The Bread Lady, as she's called, and spread the word about a house where food is for the taking, no questions asked.
The grandmother spends several hours every morning driving her white van to grocery stores and bakeries before a small crew of family and volunteers helps her restock the row of cartons on the porch. Then people arrive by car and by foot, by bus and by bicycle, sifting through the bounty before leaving with a wave or a thanks. They hail from around the world, picking up food for themselves, their grandchildren and their refugee neighbors.
"When the porch is full, it's like a mini United Nations," she said.
One woman walked several miles, reached the haven of Devenport's porch and cried. With only enough money for margarine or bread, she had prayed there would be food, Devenport recalled. Now she could go buy something to spread on her loaf.
Keith Malnar's daughter was struggling with addiction and living on the streets when she told her father about a woman's porch west of Capitol Hill that always had food. The family often didn't know where the 20-something woman was. On holidays, he would take presents and food and look for her all over town, under viaducts, in tents near the freeway, and sometimes couldn't find her.
"Knowing there's places they can stop by and at least eat — it's a relief," said Malnar, whose daughter is now sober, back in school and no longer homeless. "You sit there and you worry the worst."
His daughter, Breannda Malnar, now 30, has never met the woman who helped her survive such a hard time. "She's just a kind stranger," the woman said.
Devenport will tell you that it wasn't her idea to give back.
As she collected day-old bread from a grocery store as part of a food drive, an employee told her it was too bad someone didn't come every day. The food got thrown away. Devenport climbed in her pickup truck and heard a voice telling her, "You need to do this."
She fought back, out loud, saying she was too busy. The voice persisted.
"I never did learn," Devenport said. "Don't argue with God."
That first Sunday, the dozens of boxes of bread sat on the porch, the living room floor, in the driveway, on the kitchen counters and even the neighbor's porch — but disappeared within hours. Devenport had told the members of her church about the collection and encouraged neighbors to stop by.
Years passed as the miles on her van ticked away, reaching almost 300,000 this spring. The gas gauge didn't work, the wipers had a mind of their own and for a while the windows wouldn't even roll down. On hot days, Devenport had to open the van door at stoplights to get some air.
Earlier this summer, Devenport learned that she would be receiving a new van thanks to the combined financial support of Nate Wade Subaru, the New Car Dealers association and some of her friends. She was shocked by the news.
"It didn't seem real, like it wasn't happening to me," Devenport said. "Because I'm used to being part of the miracle and not receiving the miracle."
The people on her porch know what it's like to receive her miracle every day.
On a recent Sunday, eight cardboard boxes loaded with hot dog rolls, ciabatta and doughnuts rested on her shaded porch. Though most of the visitors were looking for food, one asked about ropa, clothes, which sat in more boxes at the foot of the stairs. Food is her focus, but Devenport tries to distribute everything she receives, including donations from The Rescue Mission. She is no longer alone in picking up from grocery stores — the Utah Food Bank regularly collects food from stores.
Roger Marffor, who is from Venezuela, comes by Devenport's once a month to pick up bread for his refugee neighbors from Africa, who live in his apartment complex.
"This is very hard times to afford food," he said. "They are very grateful."
In nearly 20 years, Devenport has stories of some wild donations, such as giving away 300 fresh trout by waving fish out the window of her van; or people collecting hunks of venison off her porch with grocery carts; and three donated live pigs snorting and running as she and her family tried to corral them into a trailer.
The porch has its regulars. Devenport and her family speculate that seniors at a nearby living center watch for her van with binoculars. They show up within minutes of her pulling into the driveway.
About a year ago, Devenport ran into Anthony Tabura, 37, working as a bagger at Smith's and recognized him from his days of porch visits. By getting free food from Devenport, he was able to save money for necessities like bus fare and toothpaste. At one point, he came by her house almost every day.
Knowing that she's helped someone like Tabura succeed is her reward.
"If it helps one person to straighten out their life, then it's worth it," Devenport said. "How do you put a price tag on the worth of person?"
Are you hungry?
O Go to Utahns Against Hunger's website, uah.org, to learn more about where to find emergency food, or visit The Bread Lady at 358 W. 600 North.