Dear Fathers of the Fatherless Children

Chapter 3: The Root of the Problem

Chapter 3: The Root of the Problem

It is a shame that single mothers are living in poverty. There shouldn't be a reason why our children have to suffer because of the "lack of" not having what they need. Each day, a single mother has to make a decision about what has to be sacrificed to get through the day and/or maybe the month. Many times, a single mother has to play "catch up" on bills because her income isn't enough to pay all the bills and take care of her responsibilities.

Single mothers carefully decide which bills are important for the month. As if her schedule isn't busy enough, she has to figure something out, because all of the bills need to be paid. Her children need water, gas, and/or electricity to stay warm, shower, and eat.

Somehow, some way or another, something has to give. That is the life of a single mother, something always has to give. All she does is "give." If a single mother needs assistance she has to go through hell and back to receive help.

She has to make a choice again. Something has to give again. Either she calls into her job, not being able to work her shift. Knowing she needs every penny. Or she seeks assistance, knowing there's a possibility she might not be approved. That's a risk she has to take; working her shift for today, or losing out on her hours that could have put money in her pocket. However, she knows she needs help; and that's a risk she's willing to take.

The choice is never easy. As she makes a critical decision to head to the Department of Family and Children Services Office, she finds that there's a long line filled with single mothers with worried looks on their faces. Either they have their children in a stroller, on their hip, or they are holding their hands.

The first time, I walked into the Department of Family and Children Services, I felt ashamed and embarrassed, but I knew I needed help. When I stepped foot in the door, all eyes were on me. I saw children with runny noses, shoes torn apart, and some of them didn't even have on a coat (it was cold outside). However, I am more than sure, every mother that was applying for assistance was doing the best she could do.

Each chair in the room had nasty stains as if it was dried-up poop, however, it was built-up dirt. Instead, I decided to sit on the floor because the floor was much cleaner than the chairs. "Is this your first time here?" a young girl asked me.

"Yes," I replied.
"Oh, well, you have to sign in at the front desk," she added.
"Thank you," I replied.
"You're Welcome," she said.

The room was filled with so many mothers who were in need of assistance.

As I walked to the front desk, I was saying excuse me over and over again. I had to watch my step very carefully as there were children playing and sliding on the floor to keep themselves busy.

I walked to the front desk. A lady barely looked up. However, she didn't acknowledge my presence.

There were tons of pencils and clipboards on the counter.

"Take one of each," the lady said, without making eye contact.
"Excuse me?" I asked, humble and confused.
"Take one of each. Take one pencil. Take one clipboard," she said rudely.

I didn't say anything because I knew I needed assistance. I took one pencil and a clipboard. As she gathered the paperwork, I held my hand out. She put a bright yellow paper on the counter because she didn't want to touch my hand.

I took the bright yellow paper off the counter. I walked away, sat on the

floor, and filled it out.
I took the paperback and reached out to give it to her. "You can put it on the counter and I will get it," she said, without ever making eye contact.