Dear DU, you encouraged me to write my story and share. So, I did. Please read *Small Edit/Update*

[llmart]

44. Thank you for saying that and understanding.

Growing up poor gave me the qualities I am most proud of in my life - resourcefulness, resilience, empathy, tenacity, gratitude, and many more. I had decided at a very, very early age several things about my future. I decided that having too many children was not a good idea and not fair to the children (I had two and quit after that) and could lead to poverty which leads to stress. I had decided that I would get a college education by hook or by crook (I eventually went to college when my children were in elementary school and graduated at the top of my class). I had decided that even if I had a sufficient amount of money as an adult, I would live within my means because I knew that one job loss could lead to a hole you can't get out of. I decided that no job was beneath my dignity if I needed to pay my bills. I decided that sometimes you need to use little white lies to get a job. I could go on.

You are so right that it isn't a life if you have no joy. I find joy in the little things and always have. I also am thankful that my parents taught me the value of gratitude for the basic things. They always preached to us kids that you need the basics in life - a roof over your head, enough good food to eat, moderation in all things and my father's favorite, "stop worrying about what the Joneses have - you don't need to keep up with them." So, I try not to compare myself to what others have. I live in a neighborhood where most of us are in our senior years and this has been a pretty horrendous winter by anyone's terms. I know that many of my neighbors that are more well off than I am have places in warm climates they go to every winter. I don't have that, and sometimes I think if one more person tells me they're going to their place in Florida or Arizona or Cancun and asks me to watch over their place I'm going to cry Not really. Instead I come in my house in the below zero weather and give thanks for the heat I feel coming out of the vents. You see, I DO remember living in a "house" (I put that in quotes because it wasn't really a house but that's another story) with a coal furnace and we would run out of coal towards the end of winter and my father would tell us kids to go outside and pick up as many sticks as we could find and stack them down the basement to supplement the little coal that was left.