Daily Sacrifice by Kathy Bunn Schultz
The sun beamed hot on that old
Clay, making life miserable for many that day.
Berta was just fifteen, born to poverty.
she never had the better things in life.
At age 15, she ran away from Grandpa’s
Cruelty, to become a young man’s wife.
So from the frying pan into the fire,
Her life never got better, she never climbed
any higher.
But everyday, she scrubbed clothes clean
on an old washer board, and hung them out
to dry.
She worked in the fields just to buy
shoes that they really couldn’t afford.
Many a nights she ate no bread, so that her
five children could be fed.
A needle and thread
sewing cloth from an old flour sack was the only
clothes on her children’s back.
She never griped, never complained, just kept giving
of herself even when her body racked with pain.
Left a widow at thirty with six children and one
on the way…
She still went to work in those fields each and every
A cold potato for dinner, coffee was a treat.
Sometimes on Sunday, there would be chicken
to eat.
When Santa came to their house, the stocking
always had an apple and a candy cane.
A free cardboard picture of a man saving the lambs,
lost in the snow, covered the broken window pane.
No toys, no turkey, no fancy tree, but the kids grew
up to appreciate the family.
Yes, she had no food stamps, no welfare to help her
along,
but she was good woman and taught her kids
right from wrong, and too always do the best that you can;
be a good woman, be a good man.
Years later, the children grew up to be fine people in the
community.
When asked what do they attribute to their
success in life.
They all smile, with a tear in their eye, and
say our gentle mother’s daily sacrifice.
