If one were to contemplate on the memory very long, I suppose I could surmise that I grew up poor. Although, at the time, I don’t believe I knew we were. As a kid, I think you accept what’s going on around you as normal. At least, I think that’s what I did. Even so, that acceptance doesn’t mean it is normal!
I remember why, during the wintertime, my mom, grandma, and I were sitting around the big black Warm Morning stove in the middle of the living room floor. There were those times at night when mom would get the stove so hot the pipe would glow red. When that’d happen, she’d get me up and rush outside because she was afraid she’d set the house on fire. She never did, though.
I remember that they kept a can of some sorts on that stove with water in it. Said it kept moisture in the house to help us not get sick. I can remember laying on the couch behind the ole stove many nights listening to the comforting sound of that water heating up in that old can. I also reflect on the nights when it was bone-chilling cold, which is when I’d sleep on the couch in the living room, but other nights I slept in my bed under a pile of hand made quilts that my grandma has sewn with her own hands. We didn’t own a fancy machine to do such!
There wasn’t any television to keep us entertained, either. Nor did we own some sort of gaming system or laptop or other electronic devices. No, I grew up learning how to entertain myself with my many books where reading took me on far away adventures. Or I’d sit on the floor and play with my paper dolls. Then later own I begin to acquire Barbie dolls. Or I’d play with my cars and trucks on the rose-covered linoleum floor.
We raised a huge garden that I had to help weed. The produce that grew out of that garden fed us year-round. During the summer we’d eat fresh corn, green beans, tomatoes, peas and more. There’d be days on end when mom and grandma were in the kitchen canning first this one vegetable than another during the fall. It was always very comforting to go into the pantry area, a long built-in set of shelves in one of the bedrooms, seeing row after row of jars filled with summer goodness.
We also had chicken, which produced eggs and then, later on, would end up in the frying pan at some point. And we used those feathers when plucked from the dead chicken to make stuffing for our bed pillows. Nothing much was wasted.
I remember we also raised goats, which provided fresh milk morning and night. Mom went to do the milking early morning before she got dressed for work, then later on in the day, she’d go back to the goat barn and milk again. I grew up on goats’ milk which was really delicious! They also killed the goats for the meat, which was then canned to preserve it longer.
And I remember how neighbors helped neighbors back then. Many a time, I’d go with grandma to a neighbor woman’s house while mom worked during the day. Those old ladies would gather around a large quilting frame, needles threaded and flying to the rhythm of their sharing tales of old. I’d often play underneath the safety of the material spilled over the sides of the frame with my baby dolls.
During the summer, grandma would make me go blackberry picking. I hated doing that cuz it was often a hot, sweaty mess. Plus, I always ended up sticking my fingers on the briars when reaching for a juicy berry. That was also the time of year that the ‘Jarflies’ or Cicadas were singing. Boy oh, there were some years it sounded like a million of ‘em were a singin’ with such a loud noise. My dog, Old King, was ever by my side, which was always a great comfort.
My point in sharing all these memories is how we made do with what we had and how we survived. I genuinely find myself wondering more and more how folks of this day will survive if we continue to hurl ourselves down this destructive path.
Are we headed to socialism?
I don’t know.
I do know that it’s not looking so good right now. But I also know my God is still in control!
And that greatly concerns me.
Who’s going to protect the precious children?
Right now, in Kentucky, our governor has enacted many restrictions. I can’t even begin to know what he’s dealing with daily or the amount of backlash he experiences for the decisions he makes. The Bible tells me to pray for my leaders, and I do. It doesn’t say a thing bout my liking nor agreeing with the decisions they may make.
Last night I had to decide, along with my board, that left me in tears!
We have a faith-based nonprofit, Broken Pieces No More Inc. We raise awareness of child abuse, domestic violence, and human trafficking. It bothers me greatly that we are not where I thought we’d be. I had so hoped we’d have gained more momentum in our family programs, outreach, and awareness events. Sadly, that is not the case due to the government lockdowns!
We’d planned for mid-December, an outdoor even to offer our community a safe and fun place to hang out for a few hours singing Christmas songs, and where the kiddos were able to make their very own ornament. We’d had lots of cookies and cocoa donated. It looked to be an enjoyable memory-making evening. We’ve recently had to cancel several other events we’d planned due to lockdowns. It’s heartbreaking!
We’d started 2020 with numerous awareness events lined up throughout the year. Raising awareness of child abuse is one of our primary purposes. Someone needs to talk about the elephant in the room, and that might as well be us.
Many years ago, a little girl I knew thought if she slipped her coat and boots on then went outside to scrape the snow off the yard; she could go back to school. You see, the school had been closed because of a significant snowfall. Day after day, the little girl went outside and, with her tiny boot-covered feet, tried ever so hard to scrap the snow from the yard, hoping to see green grass underneath as a sign school would finally open.
No one thought to tell the little girl that the school was closed due to the snowfall. No one thought to tell the little girl how much fun she could have outside playing in the snow then later when coming in, having a mug of hot chocolate. No one thought to tell the little girl how special it was to be out of school on a snow day. Nor would it have made any difference to the little girl.
You see, this little girl never knew when the ‘red-hot’ pain would find her and freeze her in place.
This little girl never knew when the good grandma would switch to the mean grandma who did all sorts of vile things to the little girl.
This little girl never knew which days she might be allowed to eat and which days she wouldn’t.
This little girl never knew when the strange men would show up and drag her off to her bedroom, leaving her tiny clothes in a heap on the floor then do horrible things to her.
This little girl never knew when any bad things might happen while she was still at home.
But she did know that she felt safe and loved and cared for when she was at school. Thank goodness for safe schools, right?
I was that little girl, and I can tell you, the school was my safe place. My guardians, who should have loved and protected me, were, in fact, my abusers. I suffered violent child abuse, all forms, you think of it, and I probably experienced it! The school was my safe place! That truth is why it breaks my heart that we are enforcing lockdowns and severe restrictions.
I just don’t understand!
Who cares about the truth?
Do our leaders not realize the ramifications that will hit us as a society soon?
Has anyone sat down to brainstorm how to avoid a head-on collision that will result in our destroying our younger generation?
Can we not see what this action is doing to our children?
Does anyone even care anymore?
Currently, Kentucky is ranked #1 in the entire nation for substantiated child abuse cases. We see this number rise even higher due to the lockdowns! We can’t climb any higher than being #1! But our cases can increase daily, which I believe they are, and the negative impact of that abuse will be devastating to our already tired and weary citizens!
Call to action…
I want to know who’s brave enough to tell little Johnny or Suzie that once again they will be staying home with their abuser!
I want to know who’s going to ‘man up’ or woman up as the case may be, to tell our precious children that their feelings do not matter!
I want to know who will demand and insist that our leaders change somehow to put our children first!
I want to know who is willing to stand with me in insisting change take place!
Anyone?
Is there anyone willing to take a stand against this inhumanity??
Will you please stand with us?
Your action of donating your time or funds will help:
- Enable us to develop programs for our family, both kids and adults, to learn healthy choices
- Assist in monthly financial obligations
- Join forces with us as we create unique public awareness events
Why?
Because ‘It shouldn’t have to hurt to live in a family!’
You can find us on facebook on either our page or group under Broken Pieces No More Inc
And if you feel inclined, we do accept donations. We are a faith-based nonprofit, and need your help to help our children!
You can give by either a money order, check, cash or through our Paypal using our email: brokenpiecesnomore@gmail.com
We do have a website that needs TLC! I will be taking the next few weeks to update it! (If anyone would like to donate some time to help with that, it would be greatly appreciated!)
Feel free to reach out to us with any ideas on how we can come together for our children, for our next generation. Our Poppa God loves our children so very much, just as He loves us. Let’s not squander or destroy that precious gift from Him!
If you would like to share your story, please drop us an email or send us a letter. We’d love to hear from you.
Our address is: BPNM PO Box 1373 Somerset, KY 42502
Many blessings to you as you walk towards a new 2021!
Pamela Richards-Woodall 