Lessons from my Mother - Posted by Nancy B.

My mother, Eleanor, struggled with poor health after her husband ”deserted” us before I was born. She used only that one-word to describe our situation; it was a sad topic for her to talk about and we avoided any mention of the missing father. Even though we were very poor (my mother, older sister and I lived on welfare),  my mother always encouraged us to read, study, and be on the honor rolls at school. I treasured the books in our tiny rowhouse in North Philadelphia; they were bought for 5 or 10 cents from second-hand stores.  Mother would travel, by trolley, to a variety of second-hand stores or church rummage sales and buy our clothing for pennies per item. She was given a treddle-sewing machine and altered the clothing when needed, or she would add a ”border” on skirts/jacket sleeves as my sister and I grew taller.
Mother always wanted us to give a small gift to our teachers each Christmas. She would make ”Sachets” which were pink satin ribbons sewn to small pink satin squares filled with dried lavender that she gathered anywhere she found it growing.  My teachers seemed delighted every year.
Another memory of my mother involved visiting churches…ANY church would do. At that time, the 1940s, Philadelphia churches were ’open for business’ 24/7, with unlocked/welcoming doors. She would place a hanky on my head whenever we entered a church (she wore a second-hand hat). If we happened to be in a Catholic church, she would dab a drop of Holy Water on us and we’d sit in a pew for a few minutes; she prayed that we would have a brighter future.
Tragically, my mother suffered a fatal stroke on Mother’s Day 1954 when I was 14 years old. We were visiting my Aunt Alice in Clifton Heights that day; I never returned to my North Philadelphia home and my life was changed completely by one tragic stroke.
Just four months after my mother’s passing, I was paralyzed by polio and hospitalized in the Isolation Ward at the local hospital. With my Aunt Alice’s love, strength, and support (and months of physical therapy), I was able to keep up with my new classmates (in the new school, new town).  After graduation I was fortunate and attended the University of Pennsylvania on a full-scholarship.  God does indeed work in mysterious ways, and I hold onto the belief that everything in my life was part of His plan.
The ”Lessons from my Mother” can be summarized in two words: Kindness and Faith.  As a welfare family, we were not permitted to have a telephone, new clothing or furniture, ’extravagances’ like greeting cards or birthday cakes. The welfare workers routinely visited unexpectedly, and our rowhouse was inspected to verify that we were not violating the rules. The welfare money was stretched very thin; by the end of the month our dinner was often an onion sandwich or ketchup-bread.
Yet, my mother showed me that being kind to others (even when you have absolutely no material gifts/foods to share) is indeed the best way to live. And her faith in God (which she instilled in me from my earliest memories) has been the most beautiful gift a parent can give a child.