poverty pains

You don’t realize what’s not normal when it’s all you’ve ever known.

Growing up poor meant I didn’t question the cigarette smoke that hung in the air, the cavities I always had, or why I constantly felt sick. I didn’t know fresh air could exist inside a home. I didn’t know brushing your teeth was something people did year-round—not just during the school year. I didn’t know I was allergic to the very air I breathed daily.

Pain was normal. When I cut my thumb to the bone, I was handed electrical tape instead of being taken to the doctor. When my appendix ruptured at age eight, no one believed me until it nearly killed me.

We didn’t go to the doctor unless we were dying. And sometimes, not even then.

This wasn’t just my story—it was our story. The story of families trying to survive, not knowing they were suffering. What we endured felt normal. But normal doesn’t mean right.

These memories still follow me. But now, I use them to light the way for others.

If this resonates with you, stick around. There's more to come

In Jesus’ name,