Hand out or hand up

So much is being written these days to encourage folks to "get back to basics."

I wrote one such article around the holidays, hoping to restore faith in our ability to come together as a community and face the overwhelming financial stresses of our recent economy.

It affected one reader who responded and told me how when she was a young new wife, learned in the 1950s how to stretch the last of her groceries with another young couple trying to stretch the last of theirs.

I heard from another reader when he read about my mother sending me coupons and how it brought back tender memories of his mother working hard to support the family as a single mom.

Recently I've been following comments on other stories, two in particular, the controversy over the homeless shelter in Fort Walton Beach and the article about how to really tighten your belt to make ends meet.

Comments on how friends and family come together to "tighten the belt" and help out were full of grace and thankfulness.

It was a pleasure to see that my neighbors actually have some compassion especially after reading several comments regarding the shelter which caused me to shudder when thinking how harsh my fellow neighbors are.

One reader went as far as to say how disgusted she was when the person in the grocery line in front of her paid for their groceries with food stamps. Whether or not she was exaggerating on the brand names is not important.

People who reach out for help to put sustenance on the table for their family should not be the brunt of comments or ridiculed.

Not all people on food stamps, or who receive some form of welfare, do so because it's a way of life, they do it because it's a way of survival.

Many years ago when my children were young, my husband and I lived hand to mouth. Money was tight and I remember learning how to stretch food to the limit of its use.

Knowing our budget was limited to paying rent, bills and putting clothes on the children it didn't leave much for groceries.

Swallowing our pride we filed for assistance.

It wasn't much. For a family of five we received a grand total of $98 a month for food.

I took my kids every month to the commodity hand out as well.

We learned to love that block of cheese, which made some great grilled cheese and an even better mac-n-cheese.

The jar of peanut butter went a long way from sandwiches to treating my children to homemade peanut butter cookies.

My kids to this day love navy bean soup and know how to cook from scratch.

Those are lessons they learned and we are thankful for the hard times since it taught us empathy for others.

When my youngest was in kindergarten she participated in a Thanksgiving project. The children traced their hands to make the shape of a turkey. They then colored each finger to resemble feathers and on the belly of the bird they wrote what they were thankful for.

My daughter, in her sweet innocence, wrote she was thankful for food stamps.

At the time I was embarrassed when I saw it stapled to the board with all the other turkeys and wanted to take it down for my pride's sake. Instead I left it because she made it and that is what she was thankful for.

I was worried what my neighbors would think when they saw it, and it was because I knew the comments would resemble those I read in response to the shelter.

To those of you who can sit and point a wretched finger at your fellow man when they are down trodden by circumstances, just remember that some day that could be you hoping for shelter from the cold, rain or heat.

Or it could be you swallowing your pride to be able to allow your children to have a meal.

Suzanne Preston is a reporter for The Walton Sun. You can contact her at suzanne_preston@link.freedom.com