It was Sunday morning, the day before Thanksgiving Day and there was not a crumb to eat in the house.
The roaches and mice had moved out of our apartment because we were too poor. They probably had a meeting and said to each other, "Yaw'll can stay if you want but we are going down the street where at least they got beans and rice, this is a sad place to be!"
Are you starting to get the picture?
Momma passed by me on her way to the bathroom with her good clothes in her hands. Upon exiting she looked like a queen even though her nicest dress was now faded from scrub-board washing over the edge of the tub. "Boy." she said, "go wash your face we're going to church to pray!"
The last thing I felt like doing was going to church in those raggedy jeans I had on, but when Momma speaks, you did it.
We arrived at that old pentecostal church she liked and after service Momma went down to pray. She stayed there for about 20 minutes, rose up, talked to no-one, came back to where I was and said, "Let's go!" I said, "Momma what are we gonna eat for supper or Thanksgiving tomorrow?" She looked at me with those beautiful blue peircing eyes and said, "Son, God knows all about it now."
That night me, my sisters and brothers took a bath and went to sleep without anything to eat all day. We had only had a bologna sandwich all day yesterday but we had to take a bath because Momma insisted that we may be poor, we may be hungry, but we sure ain't gonna be dirty.
We all awoke to Thanksgiving Day with excitement. Expecting to smell something good cooking on the stove. You can imagine our dismay when the only smell was that of Raid roach killer from the night before.
There was a meeting of the siblings and I was elected, no threatened with my life to ask Momma what in the world is for Thanksgiving dinner?
Momma anticipated our coup de tat and stopped me at the kitchen door. She pulled us all up close to her and said, "Kids, I have prayed, and now God knows all about it. God will provide!"
No sooner had she gotten those words out of her mouth when someone knocked on our door.
I opened it up to Mrs Stambaugh my Sunday school teacher and she asked us to go to her car and get all the stuff in pans out of it.
We unloaded a full dressed and cooked turkey with all the fixings anyone could ask for. We kids wasted no time in gouging ourselves on those suculent sweet delights.(just in case she's reading this in Heaven, they weren't as good as Momma's cooking)
I heard Momma thanking Mrs Stambaugh for her kindness. She then returned to the kitchen, looked at us and said, "what did I tell you? God knows all about it and yaw'll remember this the rest of your lives. If you'll just pray and ask God for His help, He always comes through!"
I'm, 58 now and Momma was right. I have never seen the righteous forsaken or his seed begging bread. Why? cause God knows all about it and that's a fulfillment you can take to the bank.
PLEASE ENCOURAGE AUTHOR,
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This one brought tears to my eyes Wendell. I too can remember moments of what felt like poverty when growing up. But Praise God they didn't last. My mother had siblings and they usually stuck together to help each other out. Today my step-siblings are not so kind. But "God knows all about it" and "I don't go begging." The Lord Bless You Wendell for this beautiful vulnerability revealed in your writing.