Children of Misfortune | Previous Challenge Entry

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TITLE: Children of Misfortune | Previous Challenge Entry
By Dot Hannah
10/06/14
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Children of Misfortune

October 6, 2014

They were cold, bleak winter days, and my golden haired sister and I had a long way to walk. Day after day, we trudged down the familiar path to school, rain, shine, snow or ice. We did not know the comfort of a warm winter coat or rain gear when it rained. It’s not that we were not loved; mama and daddy simply could not afford to give us such luxuries. I think back to those days, and tears still well up in my eyes. Poverty is painful, and it can wear you down, adversely affecting vision, value, and hope.

It was a hard life but harder still that we were mocked and made fun of at school for being so poor. Consequently, we felt inferior and terribly insecure. We were brokenhearted and crushed in spirit, our inward battles only known to us. We had no expectations and always felt like absolute outcasts, like we were beneath everyone else. I would have so liked to wear one of the pretty dresses other girls wore, not the few shabby ones I wore. No one can imagine the intense humiliation we felt, but even then, God was charting a safe course for us. My sister and I found happiness in the companionship of each other, learning to laugh in spite of our circumstances. We calmed and stilled one another’s storms. She was my guardian angel. To this day, we are crazy about one another.

Winter was especially cruel. We huddled around a space heater in one room of a cold house to stay warm. At night, we piled so many quilts on top of us that we could not move, unsure we would survive the night. Somehow, I don’t remember the heat of the summer, only the frigid winter. I hated winter. I can’t tell you it ever got any better, because my father was older, very sick and unable to work. My mother was uneducated and never worked outside of the home either. Daddy passed away when I was twenty one, mama a few years later.

Now, let me tell you the rest of the story. The child grew into the girl; the girl grew into a young woman. Today a senior, I am well and want for nothing, like most Americans. No, I am not wealthy but comfortable. I came to know Christ at an early age, and He became my hiding place. God will find a way to let us know that He is with us, wherever we are. Nothing can separate us from His love. I cannot resent that my life was not easy. Those serious disadvantages made me stronger and are foundational in my gratitude of a miraculous God. He has taken the deep impressions of past memories and given me a ministry of encouragement to children, especially disadvantaged ones. I have a heart for poor children because I can identify with their misery. God has taken what was meant for bad and turned it into good.

Look around. There are those, yes, in our day and age, which are suffering greatly and have incalculable needs. I sometimes wonder why no one ever took time to look at our sorrow and offer a lifeboat during this sea of time. Where were the people of God back then? Where are they now? One simple, lovely action can change someone’s world.

When I recall the past, I am grateful for many things. It is the dark past that has intricately molded me into who I am today. I am familiar with pain, but I am also familiar with joy. Back then, I did not know how much I could love and what I could accomplish with the help of a faithful God. Now, when I contribute to a little boy in Haiti, I recognize that simple things are treasures of great worth. When I buy Christmas gifts for children who would otherwise be without gifts, as my sister and I were, an unexpected burst of happiness explodes in my soul. When I eagerly buy school supplies for needy children, I have a cheerful and contented fullness. Let us not fail to appreciate our glorious blessings by sowing love and benevolence. There is no better exercise for the heart than reaching down and lifting someone up. Our excess accumulation of blessings are meant to be shared.

“You are my hope, O Lord God; you are my trust from my youth.” (Psalm 71:5) NKJV

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