My intention is not to confuse anyone, but I'm going to be a little off time sequence with this post. I'll later return with stories of the hospital & group home. My heart is leaning more towards talking about the subject of gratitude.
When my father was in the picture, financially we were beyond stable. Borderline brats, almost. Entitled at times, even. Since my father was honorably discharged from the army after his encounter with the missle, we were still privy to all things base driven. We grocery shopped on the base, we bought our school clothes on base, went to the dr & pharmacy, everything was done there. We went weekly and more than just once per week during the summer months. My brother & I scanned all the toys in the toy section, begging & pleading for another one to add to our huge pile and over flowing toy boxes. Without fail, my parents gave in and we had something new to play with for a few days before getting bored & begging again for the next time killer on our future trip. We wore nice clothes, had nice shoes, ate well. Something we definitely took for granted even as children.
When my parents split the second time, we felt the brunt of true poverty. My mother still collected the $800.00 check each month, but feeding 1 adult & 3 children, pay bills, clothes, dr bills, mortage, etc was beyond tight. Over night, we went from being entitled little 'royalites' to impoverished hungry beggers.
According to welfare services, my mother's monthly alottment was too much and she was not eligible for assistance for food. That's a crazy thought! $800 is surely enough for food, but not for all other expenses that weren't taken into consideration. She leaned on the church to help with food. The Mormon church has a wonderful welfare program that is more than fare for those who are truly in a bind like we were. Once per month we were delivered church brand can food, 2-3 gallons of milk (which were then put in the freezer to keep from spoiling. Have you ever had milk that was in the process of being defrosted? Not good!), powered milk (worse than frozen milk!), 3-4 loaves of bread (that also went into the freezer) and other tolietries and items that we needed. It wasn't much, but we were grateful. It was the difference in starving or having a light meal on our stomaches.
Food wasn't our only worry, my mother couldn't afford to pay for the tags on our van once May came. My father, still in prison, wasn't around to help money wise and I'm not so sure he would have helped even if he was a free man. So it sat under our carport, undriven. We were bound unless we could somehow be fit into our grandparents schedule or finding enough change to call a taxi. Having no form of transportation almost felt like we were in prison.
Along with that, daily house hold repairs took a backseat. We went for an eternity without hot water because the hot water heater broke. My mother would boil water on our stovetop and within a couple of hours, fill the tub up. We would have to quickly jump in, bathe off and then usher the next person in to use it. Dirty water and all. We didn't think about that though, we were just grateful that we had a warm bath to jump into if only for a few minutes. If you got to be the first person to use it that day, you were extremely grateful.
It was one thing after another, the air conditioner broke & being in the middle of the summer heat in Georgia was almost like enduring hell on earth. Many days & nights spent under cold showers and box fans to cool off. Shortly after losing air conditioning, we lost all electricity because my mother just couldn't afford to pay the bill. Our small amount of cold food went into two 50 quart coolers. We literally dug out the (frozen milk), butter and cheese out of the ice or if we didn't have money for ice, the icy cold water that once was ice. We ate alot of peanut butter sandwiches. Anything processed basically, that didn't need to be heat up because no power or didn't involve a refridgerator. Oil lamps, candles and flash lights became our best friends when the sun went down. I spent alot of time reading & writing a lot before it got dark. A battery powered radio kept us entertained and that made me happy because I didn't just love music, I lived it.
When school was coming back into session after the 1st divorce, I remember my mother telling us she had no clue how she was going to afford to get us clothes, book bags, or shoes. We told her it was ok & that we understood. Just having clothes to put on my back, was enough for me. I don't know where the money came from or how she was able to, but I remember the day before our orientation (mine being the 1st day of high school), she surprised my brother & I with two shirts, two pair of jeans and a new book bag each. You would have thought we won the lottery! It was completely unexpected. I remember dropping to my knees and thanking the Lord for what some might consider nothing, but to us it was a small fortune. I was so embarrassed thinking that I had to start high school in raggedy clothes and with a tattered book bag.
There are times, when to this day that I sometimes take my blessings for granted. These stories come trickling back to my mind and I am quickly reminded of how fast it can all be taken away. When I think about it back then, I am appreciative of flicking on a light switch and having power, turning on the hot water and it blaring back with heat, jumping into my car without hesitation to go somewhere, putting on a new shirt without any holes in it, eating a warm meal, & grabbing a cold drink out of the fridge.
It's these very reasons, I think where my compassion was born inside of me for other people. It's why I want to do for those who can't, especially children. For years, I've talked about doing something, anything, for the less fortunate. I just haven't stopped long enough (shame on me) to put my plan into action. I worked with a lady at my old job who went through breast cancer twice and still had a project she lovingly called "Sunshine Baskets". She was so grateful that God helped the cancer go into remission the 1st time, she in return needed to do something for other people who were down on their luck. Whether they lost a loved one, going through a divorce, loss their job, or whatever else was pressing them, she made a basket with little bits of happiness in it. She did this for a few years until the Lord took her home Thanksgiving day in 2011. She never slowed down once. She was constantly in search of finding families who needed her pick me ups. I truly admire that about her. I aspire to be that compassionate & giving, because I know how it feels to have nothing except for the prayer in my heart & breath in my lungs.
My goal this year is to put my plan into action finally. Start giving, because I am my happiest when I'm in the service of others.
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