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We had just moved from one small community to another and
were trying a new church. I was very small and usually Mama
had to pinch me to keep me awake during t he long sermons.
The church was crowded and everyone was very friendly to us.
There were four of us there that morning; my two older
sisters, Shirley and Rosalie and, of course, Mama. It was a
struggle for Mama to bring us to church because she never
learned to drive, and of course we had no car. We walked
everywhere we went so it was good that we lived near town.
The preacher droned on and on and I got pinched pretty often
that Sunday. Soon it was time for the offering to be
collected and Mama got out her little change purse and she
had a couple of quarters and maybe a few nickels and dimes,
but there was only one paper bill in her purse and it was a
ten dollar bill. Well, I knew she could not put that ten
dollar bill in that plate because that was all the money we
had to last us until the first of the month. I could see
Mama studying the money in her purse trying to make a
decision as to how much to give to the church. She closed
her eyes and was very quiet for a few seconds and then when
she opened them, she had the ten dollar bill in her hands. I
started to remind her about the fact that this was the last
ten dollars we had, but the look on her face told me to keep
my thoughts to myself. As the plate was handed to her, she
quietly slipped the money into the plate. I was almost
ready to explode. I mean what in the world was she thinking
of giving our last ten dollars away to leave us broke for
the rest of the month. I couldn't wait to get out of that
church and find out if Mama had lost her mind for sure.
As soon as we passed the Minister and Mama shook his hand
and told him what a nice sermon he had preached, I pulled on
her dress and asked her why she did such a thing. She told
me that somewhere in the bible it says that no one can out
give God and that if you give your last to Him He will
return it pressed down and over flowing to you and that was
all I needed to know about it.
Well, I must say Mama didn't seem to be a bit worried about
our finances and her face was actually glowing and she
whistled as she prepared our Sunday meal. She always
whistled when she was happy and most of the time my Mama was
happy, no matter our circumstances Mama could find something
to laugh about and therefore to whistle about. As we had
prayer before our meal, Mama didn't even mention our lack of
money although I must admit I prayed that God would give us
some more money so we would not be broke for the rest of the
month.
The next afternoon, as I came skipping home from school, I
had a lot on my mind and I wondered if Mama had something
good cooking on the stove as she usually did each
afternoon. She would make corn beef hash and cabbage, fried
chicken, with all the trimmings, Brunswick Stew, chicken and
dumplings. As you can tell, my Mama was an excellent cook
and she could cook and bake just about anything. Most of
the time during the week, we would have one dish meals.
That meant chicken and dumplings, chicken and rice, pasta
visoule, which is elbow macaroni with tomato sauce, kidney
beans and fried smashed up hamburger.
Mama said it was a good way to use your hamburger and to
make it go further for a large family and I tell you it was
delicious, but then everything she made was delicious. We
had a neat stove because on top of it there was a deep well
in it and a big pot down in the deep well. That is usually
what Mama used for her one dish meals. There was a really
nice lady that worked down at the Colonial Stores in the
meat department and she came by our house almost every day
walking to work.
When we were out on the porch she would always stop by and
speak to Mama. She always called her Mrs. LaBarbera. She
would tell her to send one of us children up to the store
and she would make sure we would get some good soup bones.
Mama sent me up there many times and I would go back to the
meat department and say hello to Miss Bea, that was her name
and she would smile that sweet smile of hers and tell me to
give her a minute or two and then she would come back out
with two or three big wrapped packages in white wrappers,
and on the front she would mark bones and a big X on them.
When I would go through the register they wouldn't charge me
a nickel because the packages were marked bones. They were
pretty heavy but I would carry them home and Mama would be
so excited when she opened those old packages of bones
because the bones had lots of good red meat on them. No
wonder they were so heavy.
I told Mama these bones sure looked good enough to eat. And
she would smile and say "Yes, dear and that is exactly what
we are going to do with them. We are going to make some good
beef stew and eat every bit of it." She would slice and
dice that meat off of those bones and wrap it all up and put
most of it in the freezer that we had. Then she would heat
up some olive oil in that deep pot on the stove, and brown
the pieces of beef. Next, she would add a small can of
tomato paste and stir that up with the browned meat and then
add water to cover and let that beef cook with a couple
onions, or so until the beef was tender. She would then
and add carrots and potatoes and of course her secret stash
of Italian spices.
I don't think I mentioned my father, God rest his soul, was
a Sicilian. He came here as a young man and joined the
military and fought in W.W.I. He loved to cook also and
would make his own pasta and hang it up all over the kitchen
on strings. It was really wild looking when he had those
long noodles hanging all over the kitchen, you could hardly
walk through without feeling like there were curtains you
had to open to get through.
While he was alive we didn't do much or go many places. He
ruled the roost like a typical Italian Mafia boss. He
wanted to take us all back to Italy with him and raise us
properly there. I was the last of ten children and believe
you me, none of us wanted to go back to wherever he was
from. He had a terrible temper and when he was angry he
would shout in this funny language that none of us
understood. To be quite honest I didn't like him very much.
Actually I didn't like him at all. He was mean. Mama said he
was nice when he wasn't drinking. The only problem was he
was drinking all the time. And so when he died, everything
in our lives changed. Gone were the loud fights, and gone
were the throwing tantrums.
One evening our old black cat, Pete got on the kitchen table
and my Father grabbed him and the butcher knife and took off
outside and we all were petrified that he was going to chop
Old Pete's head off right there over our burning barrel in
the back yard and if Mama had not screamed along with the
rest of us, I am sure he would have done just that. Pete
somehow wrestled himself out of his hands and flew off to
parts unknown. That cat had more than nine lives.
As I was saying life was much calmer and much happier after
the Old Man was gone. That sounds terrible but it is the
truth. There is no sense in sugar coating it when the truth
speaks for its self.
Somehow I got away from that day at church when Mama gave
her last ten dollars but so much happened in my childhood
good and bad that I need to focus on the good things and
this was one of those really good things that altered my
life in so many ways.
I had always believed in God. I don't know when or how I
was told about Him or if I just simply KNEW HIM. Sometimes I
think that I did know Him from the beginning of my life. I
believe that we are all born with a small hole in our
heart. When we grow up or as we are growing up we
experiment with various things trying to fill that hole,
sometimes love, other times drugs, smoking, sex. Many
things we look for in our life to fill that hole because we
know that there in our hearts is a deep need to be filled
and when we finally wise up we realize how easy the answer
is and how easy it is to fill that hole.
In fact Jesus has been waiting forever to fill that hole.
Well, in my life, I started searching young for ways to fill
that hole and I knew that God was there waiting for me. I
prayed to Him when I was a little girl. I worried about my
Mama because she had arthritis so bad and sometimes the
doctor would have to come in the middle of the night because
she was hurting so bad.
I would crawl behind an old trunk in the dining room and
pull an old tapestry over me that was too old to hang on the
wall, and I would cover up with it and pray for my Mama.
Sometimes I would fall asleep behind that old trunk and when
Mama would find me she would say that she was surely afraid
I was going to become a fanatic because of the way I prayed
all the time.
Well, let me tell you something. If you lived in a
household like mine with your father hollering and drunk all
the time, and your brothers coming in and usually fighting
with him, or at least arguing with him and wondering if he
would get the knife out again and go after your cat or one
of us, then you would pray too. I truly felt that God was
protecting me and my family during all that time. I also
felt I had a special relationship with Him. I still do. Oh I
have fallen many times but He is always there to pick me up
and brush me off.
Getting back to that Monday after the Sunday when Mama gave
God our last ten dollars. Well, I was always the one to go
by the Post Office to get our mail because I was the
youngest and got out of school before everybody else. I
would run up the steps to the Post Office and take my key
from the string around my neck and find my box which was PO
Box 148 . I would look through the glass of the cubby hole
and there was some mail. I don't know why but I always loved
to see mail in there. I got the mail and looked through it
quickly and lo and behold there was a letter from my oldest
brother, Joe.
Joe was the oldest and he was rich in my book. He lived in a
home in an area of Shreveport called Southern Shores.
Doesn't that sound ritzy to you? Well, to a little girl
from Phoebus it sounded really nice. I also knew that he
traveled to Europe quite a bit. Now to go to Europe cost a
lot of money or so I had been told so I figured he had a lot
of money. He also had a wife and two adopted daughters who
were not my best friends, if you catch the drift. God had a
lot of work in store for him to do on me. Anyhow, I skipped
on home and knew Mama would be glad to hear from her eldest
son.
As I walked to the door, I could hear the soaps on the
television and so I quietly made my way across the hall and
dropped my books on the table and gave my Mama a hello kiss.
She gave me a rundown on what was going on in the latest
Search for Tomorrow
and I gave her the mail. Of course I had the letter from
Brother Joe on top. Well, she opened it up and out drops a
check for $100.00!
Did you get that? I was in s hock, I guess and then I
tried to count how many times over ten dollars it took to
give you one hundred dollars back. Well, that was too much
for me to worry with. I just thanked my God for answering
prayer and for blessing my Mama as His child by being so
obedient and giving her last dollar to God.
I have never forgotten that day nor have I ever stopped
telling that story. We had rough times but we never gave up
and we never accepted charity. My Mama would always tell
those who offered it that we were fine and to give it to
someone more deserving than we were.
My Mama had a streak of pride a mile long but that was good
too. She taught us to never ask anyone to do anything for us
that we could do for ourselves. That was good advice. The
best that she ever taught she taught by doing. She never
had a bible study in her home. She went to church until her
arthritis caused her to have to quit because she could no
longer walk the many blocks to church. She continued to
make sure that we went each Sunday.
We prayed at each meal and thanked God for whatever we had
and she taught this one little girl that her faith was
strong enough to give her last dollar bill to God because
she trusted God to take care of her no matter what. Faith
is an action word, just like love.
Nanci L. Stroupe
Onenoni@aol.com
123 Tide Mill Lane
apt 41B
Hampton, VA 23666
Nanci and her husband of 44 years, Doug, live very happily
together and enjoy their two daughters. Lisa and Sher and
their grandchildren, all six of them, Ashley, Dusty, Emily,
Ana, Amber and Angel. She has written quite a few stories
that have been printed on Heartwarmers. com also for
Ripplemakers and Starfish. She has had three stories
published and stays busy with her church trying to sing in
Senior Choir and recently joined up with a group of the Red
Hatters Society which is a lot of fun for ladies of a
certain age.
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May your day be blessed
Bob Johnston |
