Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Families.
My Rock and My Hold
It's a long story, but means the world to me. From a young age she became the town's famous young mother. Big brother's wife they called her. In our language they called her "fofo sron". That was her joy. To be the iconic lover in her home town was a dream come true. She was full of passion, joy and kindness. She had dream and she was dedicated to it. When she sits down to tell the story, she shed tears or sadness and joy. This is a good story. She said " I was everyone's little helper and I was very happy to do their errands. Fast forward, I never knew that thing things would change so quickly". She continues telling us children her childhood story. "I have three bothers and two sisters. We are a family of eight in total including my mother and father. As we the children were living our young lives, we never thought about what tomorrow was going to be like or how we were even going to get food. Our father and mother provided for us and all we have to do as kids is carry the products home and help mum cook." Joy as she calls it continued for her and the family until one day without realising, everything collapsed. the joy she once knew has fallen and in a instance the family's life became hard and crazy. Suddenly the little girl found herself occupied by survival instinct 24/7 for the life of her family. fofo sron was no longer a name of joy for her.
By Lamourette Folly7 years ago in Families
Indoor Activities for Kids and Families
Well Spring break was upon us, and that was originally what this article was for. However nationwide and globally events , sports and schools are being cancelled. Some for only a week or two and others for extended periods such as my kids who are out for 6 weeks and the NBA who has cancelled the entire season.
By Misha Alsleben7 years ago in Families
Pins and Needles
Timothy got up before his alarm went off on Monday morning. As usual, he began his day by grabbing the black shoebox from beneath his bed and pulling out a perfect silicone mask of his face and a small sewing kit. He carefully stitched on the mask, attaching the outer edges before focusing on securing the smile to his lips. His restless, drowsy eyes were transformed into bright, unconcerned ones. His drooping frown became a reassuring smile. His mom knocked at the door.
By Jess Valentine7 years ago in Families
A virtuous woman
Words fail to describe the beauty of the one I call mother. A woman who has fought for me and loved me through my most shameful and hateful days. Memories of my childhood burst into my mind at random occasions demanding my celebration of this very special woman. She has taught me so much truth and corrected me with sweet love. Her hands are always open to give me all I need and desire. She certainly withholds no good thing from me. This is not to say I’m spoilt. On the contrary growing up I had the strictest dad on the block. He disciplined me regularly and even beyond what was necessary. Often my mother would fight to protect us. To shield us from our father’s violent rage. She took so much pain and disgrace in her shoes as wife. Especially when I was but a child. She also made herself available for occasions, birthdays, meals and more. Simply put, anything that was special to us was special to her.
By Amanda Awobasivwe7 years ago in Families
To the woman who raised me
She was divorced from an abusive crack addict, a single mother. 2 of her biological children had serious mental health issues, her oldest son schizophrenic, her only daughter bipolar. I remember the one and only time I saw her cry. It wasn’t when her own mother who she’d taken care of all my life had died, it wasn’t when her father had died, it wasn’t when I told her I didn’t want her love but that I wanted my mom. Her tears covered her face after her children tried to kill each other outside our apartment. I remember them (my mother and my uncle) screaming at her that it was her fault their father had become addicted to drugs, that it was her fault he left. My uncle drenched in his own blood because my mother hit him with her van at 30 miles per hour, stood screaming profanities at the woman who did her best to raise him on her own. My mother still in risqué clothing from her exotic dancing job, stood screaming at her mother that she had ruined them, that she alone was the cause of everything wrong in their lives. I could tell by the pain I can still hear in her mourn, that she believed that. My grandmother was a tough woman. She was born from a 14 year old little girl who’d had 7 children total. My grandmother being the oldest diligently strived to assist with the care of all 6 of her siblings. She never heard “you’re beautiful” or “I’m proud of you”. So she never did use those words with any of her children. She told us that life was unfair and that people will likely always take your hard work and genuine nature for granted. She’d quote my favorite Mother Theresa quote telling us to “do it anyway”, and to ” do all things as if your doing them for God”. But she didn't just say those words, she lived by them. She only had 2 friends and each of them refered to her as the best friend they ever had. My grandmother worked as a nurse after she adopted my siblings and I. She worked 3 jobs, took us to Bible study 3 nights a week, ministry once a week, family Bible studies were regular almost daily. We were allowed to talk about how we felt. No matter how embarrassing or scary she would always listen. She never took a dime from either of our parents after she saved us from sexual and physical abuse, even calling the police on her own son even though that broke her heart. She built a home for us and got us out of that ghetto apartment out of the sweat on her brow. And she did it alone. When my mom went to prison I was bitter and I lashed out on her often blaming her just as my mother had. But she held space for me. She was still housing her 2 sons, had rehabilitated 6 children who were told they’d never be able to walk or talk and she was sending money to her daughter in prison. Many times I remember her words of wisdom. Her patience, her resolve to never, ever give up on the people she loves. ”Where there’s life there's hope” she says. I am beyond blessed to have had such an unshakable, powerful, beautiful woman raise me and if I do nothing else right in my life I ”hope” I can show her how proud I am to call her my grandmother, the woman who raised me.
By Tera Summers7 years ago in Families
A girl in a different world.
I was a girl feeling that I was in a different world because everyone I went to school with had a mother and I had a father that I loved but wondering where is mine? I would open my eyes and there she was late night visits and smelled like alcohol, none the less I knew I had a mom. My character was more like my dads fun but yet serious in a way but loved the magical and fun things a girl can do but had no one to do them with I was highly creative and 80s style was my style. My mom did love me she just couldn’t get out her pain and it ruined and tore her apart. I got older and after my dad passed when I was 18 I finally got to hang with my my mom still hard to say mom I called her by her name and she would get mad but I was not used to it! She was such a giver regardless of her life decisions. And after she passed I was angry that I never had a chance to be a kid with a mom a real mom you can ask girly things to but I became a rebel till my dad passed and when she passed I was still feeling empty because my friends would tease me with thier mom. But she was so caring and fun to be around at times when she’s not poring her emotions out or blaming others. I realized. ok dad and mom are gone. I was giving like my mom people took advantage of the pain an took till I had no more to give I said no I’m not ending up like my mom putting myself last made her days get lesser by the day till she was gone I stopped it all I started saying no to what didn’t serve me I started changing and seeing good things are meant for me too, I couldn’t burden myself in not having a mom to do cute things with or get advice. So I was getting closer to being like my mom and didn’t want to point fingers of why I went so low when I did deserve better even though I had nothing else to live for there had to be a reason I was here, yes I didn’t have what others had but I learned to appreciate the little I did have allowing me to feel others pain and be giving to the ones that are in pain like me and not do it because someone is forcing me to give because they think I’m less but I’m not and said thank you mom I learned from you in heaven that I need to care about me because no one will but myself and if I started to love myself enough I would not end up dead young, because people didn’t care how much you gave they took it and left you dry. So she showed me to not give your all when you haven’t given yourself enough!
By Bella Maureen7 years ago in Families
Unwanted & Unloved
My biological mom was an abused teenager who was six and-a-half months pregnant when she gave birth to me. Abused physically, mentally and emotionally by my father, my mom tried to abort me with a wire clothes hanger because she did not want to raise a child who could turn into a monster like her then-husband.
By Eve Austin Powers7 years ago in Families
Superwoman?
Jessi was born into a fairly normal family: a mom, a dad, soon she had a little sister- me. Before Jessi turned seven, our mom died of cancer. Being a little girl without a mother is hard enough, but she also had me. I didn't realize growing up that she had inherited me as a responsibility, but she did. My dad was grieving and trying his best to find a way to stay home and provide for his two daughters, so my sister pretty much took over the roll of mother to me.
By Michelle Schultz7 years ago in Families
