Grateful

Being poor, while sometimes very difficult and frustrating, has been a blessing in a way for my daughter and myself.  We've endured through things that many people in this country today do not.  This week's sermon in church was about perspective.  I listened intently.  Our pastor, a relatable, funny guy, told us that when bad things happen to us, we usually ask “why”.  “Why, God, why?”  We usually don't ask, “what?”.  What is it that we're supposed to learn here, what is it that we don't get?  God's perspective, he said, is very different than ours.

Back when I graduated high school after junior year, I set out in life with some expectations.  I went to college and worked 2 jobs.  I drove a nice car around town, and my clothes, hair and make-up were very important to me.  After an incident in the bathroom in April of 1983, I decided that I had enough of living with my parents (again), and I calmly told my mother that I was leaving and would see her again after I turned 18.  She didn't believe me, although she seemed a bit worried.  I waited for my opportunity, packed a bag, kissed my sleeping brothers goodbye, and left.  I found the underbelly of life, sneaking around here and there, living with men who used me, being hungry at times.  To this day, I can eat only so much peanut butter and jelly.  For a time, I couldn't stand it.  I ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for a stretch in order to survive.  A couple of men tried to get me into prostitution.  I didn't go through with it. 

After my parents split up about a month later, a member of my family contacted a former neighbor and asked to leave me a message, in case I contacted her.  When I went home one day, to get a couple of checks that I knew should be there, an income tax refund and a Pell grant refund, which I needed to eat and had been taken and cashed by my father, my neighbor saw me and gave me the message.  My mom was having a difficult time and my brothers needed me.  I was pulled in different directions.  I wanted to help my brothers, but being around the family was like a step back to me.  I did end up going back to live with my mom and my brothers for a couple of months, but by the 4^th of July, I wanted out again.  My mom and my aunt stayed up all night the night before and were making fun of me.  I guess they thought that I was sleeping, but I cried all night listening to them and the next day, while everyone else went over to another relative's house, I snuck away again, this time to live with an abusive a-hole, who didn't really want me.  It took me another 10 years to finally get away from him, and ironically, it was my mother's other sister who took me in, so that I could go back to school. 

It was difficult.  I felt out of place.  I struggled to get myself together, and I felt unwanted and alone.  I tried everything I could to be self-sufficient, but I couldn't earn enough to support myself fully.  I always felt back then, and indeed until I moved away in 2001, that I was just another problem to my mother.  I hoped that our relationship would be restored and improved, but it only got worse.  She was married at the time to an abusive alcoholic a-hole, who looked at me like I was scum.  He treated my brothers the same way.  No one that lived in that house was happy.

What does it all mean?  Even though living here, by myself, has been one of the hardest things that I've had to do in my life, and at times is the lonliest place for me away from my friends and family, I've learned a few things.

We don't have cable television any more.  My daughter, who has been a great reader since kindergarten, manages to find things to do instead of sit in front of the t.v. or the computer.  We do have a few computer games that she likes, and we do rent movies here and there, but we manage.  She really misses her favorite show, SpongeBob Squarepants.  She has taken some flack for liking SpongeBob, which many of the other girls have shunned her for, but I told her that it's important to be true to herself, through thick and thin.

We lost our car (to age) in June.  A couple of bikes were donated to a church that we associate with, and we ride around town on our bikes, matching retro-styled Schwinn cruisers, which always draws compliments from passerbys.  “Like your bikes!” they smile and tell us.  When we can't get somewhere by bike, we take the bus.  Money has been extremely tight since the unemployment ended last month, but we appreciate it when we do get to go somewhere.  After having to get around on a bike or on foot most of the time, I've lost 10 pounds.

Every night at the dinner table, we say grace.  We thank God for what we have, because we know that there are people out there who indeed have less.  My daughter will come up with variations on the theme, but now, after doing this for several months, she's getting better at it.  A good friend sent us an MP3 player last Christmas.  It has taken me months to get the confidence to fool around with the computer to learn how to copy songs to the player, but recently, I learned how.  I now have another computer skill, and she's thrilled to be able to listen to music anywhere she wants to go. 

She doesn't have high expectations for Christmas.  We have an older Nintendo GameCube, not a Wii, and I don't have to worry about buying the latest system every 2 years, with each game ranging from $30 to $100.  She wants some Little Debbie Zebra Cakes, a pop-up coloring house, a GameCube game, and some money to go to the chiropractor (we both believe her back hurts because she's out-of-whack from sports).  Of course, I'm trying to find a way (and a job) to get her more, but I'm happy to say that she is empathetic and realistic. 

Having spent years being celibate, while living in my mother's house and again while my daughter's father was in prison, I've avoided many pitfalls that would have otherwise been a stumbling block for us.  Being afraid of what I might find out there in the single world, I chose to remain alone because it was the safe thing to do.  I've seen too many women, in real life and in the movies, choose precisely the wrong man to come into their lives, and their families were worse off for it.  I've remained disease-free.  My daughter has never woken up to a strange man in her mommy's room, passed out from drunken revelry the night before.  She knows that she is safe with me, and I love that.

We have a roof over our heads and food on our table.  That's more than some people have, and I'm grateful that God and kind people have our backs.  A job will come along eventually, and I'll be grateful for that too.  Until then, it's “one day at a time”.  My wish when I was 18 was to make people happy, and while I realize now that I can't make other people happy, I truly do enjoy putting smiles on people's faces.  I give toys and clothes to neighborhood kids who smile when they get something, and I've encouraged my daughter to do the same.  It's a gift that keeps on giving.

I've lowered my expectations materially, but we seem to get what we need when we need it, and I know that God loves us, because we've made it through.  I know who my friends are, and I appreciate them all the more.  I love my family, but I hope to be more than they expected of me.  I believe that God will open a window for me that will take me to where He wants me to go, because His plans for me are better than I could hope for myself.