I’ve heard many folks talk about growing up and having to do without this or that, and have been guilty myself of saying that I didn’t know how poor I was until I got grown. As a grandfather looking back over the years, I can clearly see that I was wrong. I had a very rich childhood.
I’m not talking about living in a fancy house, riding in a new car, or wearing fine clothing and shoes; I was rich in ways much more important, as was everybody else I remember from back then. My parents’ frugal budgeting accounted for every nickel with little to spare, but we were showered with blessings and the good fortune to be raised during some great times.
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