Proof The Bible Is True

There’s no way of justifying what I did that terrible evening in June 1982, but at the time I felt I had hit an all-time low. I had been rejected time after time. I had lost my job, then my townhouse. I had been forced to go on food stamps and to move in with my boyfriend to give my three children a roof over their heads. Then it got worse. My boyfriend was selling drugs, and I soon became addicted to cocaine. All of his money went for drugs; all I had for my family were food stamps.

 

When it happened, I was down to my last $10 food stamp, and I couldn’t get any more for two weeks. For several days I had been feeding the kids macaroni and cheese, but the meals were getting smaller and smaller. That night after dinner I hit bottom when my five-year-old daughter said, “Mommy, I’m hungry,” and I had nothing to feed her—nothing.

 

So I took that $10 food stamp, got into my car and, with tears rolling down my cheeks, drove to a nearby convenience store. I figured I’d at least buy my kids some cereal and bananas. But when I arrived in the parking lot, I couldn’t stop crying. That’s when it hit me: There was no way I could feed my kids for two more weeks on $10. I backed out of the lot and drove aimlessly while I tried to figure out what to do.

 

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