The niece butts into the conversation and asks, “What
is poor.” I was simply floored! I turned to my mother and asked, “Have I
failed this child?” I took the time to
explain to her the definition of poor in the context in which I used it and
immediately felt like I’d missed an opening to discuss something much deeper
and meaningful. But I wasn’t able to
recapture the moment because – well the chick is 8 years old and things just
kept rolling on in her world.
I approached my hour of rest with a heavy heart. On one side of this bitter pill, I recognized
that it was a lovely thing that this 8 year old child didn’t have a
“depravation” understanding of poverty but on the other side of it - had I
offered her enough information and opportunities to fail to understand the
blessings in her life that keep her from feeling “poor?”
Yes, we talk about the value of money, the price of
items, the need to take good care of things because they cost money and money
is not to be wasted. Yes, we talk about
treating others the way we like to be treated (this is a hard lesson to “get”
at this age) and being a good person (to avoid depravation of character and
spirit).
Anywho, as sleep enveloped me, I decided that on some
level; I’ve been giving my very life energy to make sure this child (my nemesis
love niece) didn’t have to feel the cold loss that poverty can inspire – “I
don’t want her to know that!” Truth be
told, I don’t want anyone to know that!
I slumbered with all of that on my mind and when the morning arrived, I determined true wisdom was in numbers and purposed to ask my family, friends and peers their thoughts on the matter. “When you were 7 or 8 years old, did you think you were poor?”
I know I can hear you all saying, “WHAT THE HECK IS WRONG WITH HER?”
But honestly, I didn’t think about any ole festering sores one might
have when I took it upon myself to get to the bottom of the concept of
poverty.
See, I can remember when the bad news was broken to
me. I was riding with my mother around
this age and was telling her how bad I felt for poor folks when she felt it NECESSARY to let me know that I was one of
the poor folks. I can still remember
howling with indignation that “I’m not poor, I have toys!”
Honestly, that wailing little kid continues to reside
in me when I think of those that live in poverty, neglect, abuse and abject
contempt by our society! I mean who
really bucks against children eating or sick folks having medication or
struggling families having decent housing?
Okay, I won’t even go there right now.
But, being who I am – I forged ahead and subjected my
poor family/friends/& co-workers to the burning question. I deeply apologize for any discomfort this
may have caused but also feel very grateful to those that pushed through to
share with me anyway.
A number of folks had no clue one way or the other
because if they were without anything they didn’t know it at the time. I heard plenty state that they had what
others had so they didn’t feel deprived or poor. Others indicated knowing they were poor and
some of the embarrassing clothing choices they endured as their families
attempted to provide weather appropriate sturdy items.
So, after gathering my data what conclusion have I
arrived at? Well, before I tell you that
let me share this one pearl with you: in
my life – right now – whenever my energy gets low and my resources tight – God
provides what the kiddos need? How do I
know it’s God? Who else could help a
people endure making bricks without straw?
Because the kid (my niece) doesn’t know poor – I have
not failed her. I’m giving her what I
had – security. She feels secure AND has plenty of time to develop her
own definition of poverty. When it is
her time to determine how to best handle her perception of poverty – she’ll
have the example we’re working to provide to use as a template on her own
journey.
What do you think?
My mother once stated that we were very poor when we were growing up and she feared that she wouldn't make it from one month to the next. The freezer was always stocked at the beginning of the month and we always had snacks, fruit and other stuff. We had what I thought was nice cloths and our home was well maintained. So what were we missing. Mom said that she wasn't able to take us out to eat and towards the end of the month, she feared that she would run out of food. She planned and limited our trips in the car when the gas got low. She planned how to wash cloths and keep the laundry done when supplies were low. Because of her planning, my sister and I never knew we were poor. We had all of the hugs, kisses, toys whether new or old, food and shelter and to us we were just another normal family. We didn't eat out, but I didn't want to because my mother could make a meal that made you stand at the door waiting for her to finish. We grew up in the day when if you asked for something and she said no it was just no. We didn't look at her answer as a result of "no" meaning we were poor or that we couldn't afford something. Looking back, I guess one could classify us as poor, but if I could do it all over again I don't think I would change a thing. I loved playing kickball outside with the flat ball or baseball with a stick and cardboard for bases. What we didn't have we made up and we enjoyed using our imaginations. Mud pies were made, painted and given as presents. That's right...mud pies. I loved my childhood and I learned some valuable lessons along the way that have provided me survival skills that aren't taught these days.
ReplyDeleteKim,
ReplyDeleteYou sound like you were at my house. Amen to all that you said. We didn't get to eat out either but like you said my mother could cook and we waited to have whatever she was cooking. I too learned a lot from growing up poor. I loved going to the second hand store with my mother because we were spending time together or spending time with her while she was cooking. I learned how to cook, wash cloth and the house cleaned up. I too would not change my childhood.