Blessings and Perspective

The adjustments in my life from living on Social Security have been tough for me, but I have persevered through the shock and severity of the initial blow.  I have gone from a twice a month salary and the strength and ability to work part-time to earn extra cash when needed, to a once a month fixed amount, about half of what I used to bring home.  Things got really rough for awhile, us always bickering about bills, the refrigerator and pantry looking incredibly lean at times, no allowance money for Jalen, nothing much to send to Jordan in college for spending money…  Sometimes I wondered if we would make it, and I would sit up and cry at night while everyone else was asleep.  We had had a big slice of our collective income slashed from our grasp, but the stack of medical bills and monthly bills was the same, if not a little taller at times with field trips and other unplanned incidentals, lunch money, back to school needs, birthdays, holidays, you know—life.  But underneath it all, I knew that somehow we would make it work.  Neither the Buntings nor the Jordans are quitters.  We both are made of stronger stuff, plus if we fell apart, who would be there for our boys?  We tightened our belts, pared down as much as possible, learned to do without, and determined ourselves to be happy with what we have.  In the process, I began to realize how good fortune has smiled on me, even now in the midst of the struggle.

I was reading something that I wrote a little while ago as an outlet for my feelings of sadness and anger while adjusting to these lean times, and I realized in a major way how blessed and lucky I really am, that I am rich in the things that money can’t buy, especially family and friends who love me.  I also realized that as hard as my struggle may be, there are people who are waging a war against much harsher situations than I am.  I may not have the house that I want, but we still have a house to live in.  That is the biggest blessing of all, having a safe haven and shelter, and not having to use a rock for my pillow, or sleep out under the stars, under a bridge, or in my car.  There may be periods where my stomach may rumble, or I don’t have my favorite snack of late (Wavy Lays Roasted Garlic and Sea Salt chips), but the receipts that I maintain for a record of how I spend my Social Security let me know that we are far from starving, and Jalen can fix himself a healthy lunch for school each day, including the snacks and fruit choices that he likes.  Those two things right there are reasons for high praises and gratefulness.  I get down sometimes, as you will see from my free write on poverty, but I have learned that counting the joy in my life helps me weather the stormy patches.  I also realize that I have been spared much of the depths of despair that I fear when I start obsessing about things (thanks to that infernal mind of mine that never sleeps).  I know what it feels like to have to go without, and it makes me appreciate what I have so much more when life is more giving, which is a beautiful blessing.   Goethe was right—what doesn’t kill us will make us stronger.  I am a little stronger, a little wiser, and a little better for the wear.

 

 

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UNDERSTANDING POVERTY

 

Understanding poverty means being hungry.

 

Understanding poverty means worrying about everything.

 

Understanding poverty means trying to figure out a way to pull oneself up with dignity.

 

Understanding poverty means being wiped out after you pay the rent.

 

Understanding poverty means adjusting sometimes to only one meager meal a day, but never losing much weight because the cheap food choices pack unhealthy pounds.

 

Understanding poverty means having to tell your child, “No, you can’t go/have/get…” every day, all the time, and every month, including Christmastime.

 

Understanding poverty means watching the resentment grow in your child and praying that he will not give in to illegal means to get the things he wants.

 

Understanding poverty means that you wait on your disability check earned after 31 years of payroll work, and by the end of the day of receiving it, most of it is gone and there are at least 29 more days in the month left to survive.

 

Understanding poverty means that the reason you no longer have that money is not because it was spent frivolously, but was spent on necessities—rent, food, utilities, gas, and a slew of past due medical bills.

 

Understanding poverty means that your wish to go out to dinner or to a movie means that you have to cancel those plans so much that they just become empty promises, pleasantries to be shared under the illusion of happier times.

 

Understanding poverty means that you are sick and disabled, with no way to work, drive yourself anywhere, or even go to the doctor because you have no insurance and can’t afford any of this.

 

Understanding poverty means that you suffer headaches every day because you are hungry, which also makes your illness worse and should be avoided, but can’t because it’s the end of the month and the refrigerator is filled with a box of baking soda, condiments, and a jug of water.

 

Understanding poverty means that you consider going to the soup kitchen but don’t because you realize that you haven’t really eaten for one day but there are some who have had practically nothing to eat for one week.

 

Understanding poverty means that you understand that you may never be able to get a house of your own for less than what you are paying someone else in rent to live in their house and pay for their vacations, knowing that moving to a cheaper rental will take 2-3 months rent to move and you just don’t have it, so you have no choice but to stay put.

 

Understanding poverty means that your oldest son may have to leave college because you don’t have the money to send him back after spending your money foolishly on house and home, and that pile of medical bills, the sad reminder that you are sick and disabled, and likely to stay that way until you die, if you are lucky.

 

Understanding poverty means watching your son wear shoes with holes in the soles and clothes that are pushing the edges of being too small because he keeps growing but your money stands still.

 

Understanding poverty means watching your son awakening into a preteen, with all of the uncertainties and inadequacies that raging hormones bring, and knowing there is not really a damned thing you can do to assuage his feelings other than remind him how much you love him as your words fall on ears deafened by the words “I don’t have the money, baby”.

 

Understanding poverty means feeling guilty as you watch the rest of the world moving on and participating in life, and feeling sad that all you can do is to sit on the sidelines and wish, dream, and fight the feelings of jealousy that you feel as others seem to enjoy life.

 

Understanding poverty means understanding that there are many faces of poverty, yours included, but not giving up because you have had and believe in better days, and believe that one day things will be better.

 

Understanding poverty means understanding my story, his story, her story, their story, and knowing all of our stories deserve to be heard.

 

Understanding poverty means being brave enough to tell your story.  I just told you mine.