My Childhood: Memories from Living a Life of Poverty

Poverty. 

The way a child views poverty is filled with faith - uncomplicated, simple faith.

After dad died, it was…rough.

I always knew we struggled financially but after the death of my father we struggled even more. I knew I wouldn’t get the things I wanted. It would be what I needed. Most of the time I was ok with that because I loved my family and my family loved me.

Love. 

I can feel that emotion, ‘love,’ very strongly even now.

We received monthly social security checks and food stamps. A family of 3 living off of less than $15,000/year. Most of our income went toward bills and paying off debt. And then $120-150/month in food stamps.

Food.

My mother always tried her best to stretch ingredients but oftentimes our meals were small and…whatever we could find. We would go to the local DCF every month and pick up our box of canned and boxed goods to supplement what we were able to buy with the food stamps. It was the cheapest of cheap foods. Sometimes dinners consisted of canned corn with mashed potatoes from a box. If I was feeling brave, I would cook up the canned salmon. Not sure to this day if it was really salmon...

I remember times when my sister and I would look around the house for loose change to buy a loaf of bread and a gallon of milk.

At the age of 10, I was worried about how and what we were going to eat.

I remember looking forward to school breakfasts and lunches but pretending to dislike it because I didn't want anyone to know I enjoyed it and didn’t have a filling meal the night before. 

Then there were days where we wondered how we would pay rent. Will we be homeless? Where will we live? Will family let us stay with them?

You may be thinking, “did you ask for help?” Sometimes. But we didn't want to ask because it was burdensome, embarrassing and shameful. 

It’s not, of course, but we thought that’s what people would think of us: burdensome, embarrassing and shameful.

I remember mummi washing our clothes in the bathtub and hanging it out to dry on the line. It had that outside smell - it didn’t smell fresh and clean like the other kids’ clothing. Sometimes we just wore the same clothes without washing it and made sure to wear it the next week so we weren’t picked on at school (kids can be cruel). 

I vividly remember standing before the Christmas tree and praying Santa would remember how good of a girl I had been. 

I would spill all of my wants to him: a bicycle; new clothes but just enough to get me through the week, it didn’t have to be too much, it never had to be too much; new shoes but just a couple;  a cool backpack; more money, maybe we could win the lottery somehow? and we would totally help other people in need we wouldn’t just keep it to ourselves; a new car or something we didn’t have to repair all the time because that costs money; all of the Indian ingredients and Indian things my mom could ever possibly want.

The list was long. A lot of it practical that benefited the family as a whole. 

I would always hope he would deliver and deliver well. I knew he wasn’t real but I wanted him to be real on Christmas day.

I remember having a lot of anger and bitterness that began around the age of 11. I would randomly start crying at school and need to talk with a counselor but didn't know what to say or how to say it.  I wanted to ask why. Why us? Why did he have to die? Why do we have to grow up so quickly? Why do I have to worry about adult things?  Why don't people help us (not many knew how desperate our situation was)? Why? It was like that little child that was always asking 'why' but never out loud only internally. Those unanswered 'why's' brewing in my heart and mind for years. Never talking about my emotions to anyone. Only internal dialogue. (Eventually I talked about it. Eventually the anger and bitterness turned into peace and forgiveness - for myself and others).

I remember I looked forward to school and church just to have a break from having to think about all of the problems we had at home and what was going on in my mind. 

We didn't have an earthly father but we did have a heavenly Father who took care of us. Whether it was through our family, friends, church, strangers and/or anonymous, our basic needs were provided for: food and shelter. 

When the question, "how are we gonna get through this month?" came up, at the last possible moment when we were at the very end of the rope, hopeless, God provided for us.

Always. I cannot remember a time where we went COMPLETELY without food or shelter. 

Our child-like faith was difficult to shake. 

Our dependence on one another and God grew into a love so deep that it became rooted into our core. Our soul. Our very being. 

My sister and I have talked about how we would not be the resilient, strong women we are today if we had not gone through what we did. We would not have the bond we have if we did not go through what we did.

The past is where we look to for strength in troubles we face nowadays. 

My sister.

What a beautiful soul. She endured so much. She has graciously allowed me to write about her. Here is a very small glimpse into her life at the time:

Not only did my sister have to return to school she also had to find a job (she had recently turned 16). She became: mother, father, daughter, sister, provider, teacher, mentor, money manager…let’s just say she was pretty much super woman.

Of what I remember, she did all of the dirty work. She took care of everything. In the beginning, when the situation was the worst we could imagine we didn’t know because she didn’t want us to worry.  

She took the worry upon herself. 

There are still things I find out to this day I didn’t know back then.

After graduating from high school, she worked part time, and went to school and took care of her mother and sister full time. Unfortunately, there were car problems and no extra money to fix it. So she had to drop out of school. She sacrificed her own desires, her FREEDOM, putting it on hold to take care of us. 

Her family. 

I remember her telling me that it was ok. She would go back to school eventually. That it would be best for us if she worked full time. Family was most important. Always.

That I better go to college, graduate, become rich and take care of her one day (that’s still in the works ;)). 

That’s the kind of person she is.

Selfless. 

If you're reading this and know her, do me a favor? Please give her a hug, high five, a card, send her a message, anything to show your appreciation of her because she is truly someone who deserves it :) 

When I think about living a life of poverty at a young age I remember not worrying but rather having simple faith. I remember wanting safety and security for my family and I. Not material things. I wanted us to love each other and for us to be happy where we were and with what we had. Not be sad because we lacked. I remember these things and hope I will hold fast to those same views throughout my adult life.