The single mother of three & No Income
I was 14 when I heard this story. Doe-eyed, innocent, and hardly concerned about my life after high school graduation. All I wanted was an A+ in my English class. Nothing else mattered.
I don’t remember the season. I don’t remember what book we were reading. I don’t remember the learning activity. I only remember the story of the single mother with three kids and no income. It goes like this:
“I had a student once whose life was turned upside down. He had lost his father. And now it was just him, his mother, and his two younger siblings. And he knew he had to figure out how to earn some money real quick.
I can’t imagine what it must have felt like for his mom. Being a parent myself. See, his mom had not worked a single day in her life. She didn’t have to. Her husband was the breadwinner. Her husband took care of the family financially so that she could raise the kids and run the household. And then he died. And the mom did not have papers. Where was she going to work?
She had three kids to feed. She had three kids to clothe. How was she going to keep a roof over their heads?
I remember there was an outpouring of love and support from the community. But that only goes so far. They had no family here. What was she going to do? Where were they going to stay?
I don’t remember what happened to them. I don’t remember where they went. All I remember was the fear of being in a position where you feel so helpless that you’re not certain whether you’re going to survive this one.”
I remember when our English teacher told us this story, he was fighting back the quivers in his voice. We could see the grief and the fears of this single mother were invoking a visceral reaction for him. He understood her as a parent.
And all I could think was, “I never want to be so helpless.”
While none of us knew exactly how this story ended, we all secretly hoped the family was okay, that they figured out how to survive, and that while it felt nearly impossible, that they did, in fact, make it through.
Regardless, however, what their story did for a class of 40 students that day was to inspire them. Their story inspired 40 students to get through the day, to dream, to add “financial independence” as one of their core values, to sort out their life priorities, to be empathetic, to be grateful, and so on. This is the power of a story.
The mother may never know what she did for us that day, but I do and now you do, too. And that counts for something. That single mother may never feel like a hero, but to me, she always will be. She pulled me out of a spiritual stupor that day and I owe her so much for that.
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