Dear Friends:

Since everybody’s talking about food stamps right now, I figured I’d share my piece of that story. My golden era of food stamps was back in elementary and middle school —back when they came in colorful bills that looked like Monopoly money and smelled like government hope. You didn’t swipe anything. You peeled it off like you were paying for groceries with a rainbow. And if you were lucky, your foster mama would slide you a crisp $1 food stamp bill like it was a golden ticket to enter the corner store, where you could buy a fistful of bubble gum and a temporary escape from childhood trauma.

We didn’t call it poverty. We called it The First of The Month.

Food stamps were the currency of the people. You could buy groceries, trade for cash, or ante up in a game of spades. I once watched a grown man bet $60 in food stamps on a hand he swore was “blessed by the Lord.” He lost. The Lord was clearly playing on the other team.

Years later, the government switched to the EBT card. Baby, that was the end of the food stamp flex. No more peeling off bills like you were making it rain in aisle five. Now you had to swipe—quietly, and discreetly. The card was sleek, silent, and spiritually sterile. It had no flavor. No drama. No bubble gum.

I didn’t know food stamps were political. I didn’t know they were supposed to be temporary.  Everybody had them. They were the unofficial sponsors of childhood snacks and adult negotiations. I grew up watching adults trade food stamps for cash, playing cards for groceries. You needed cash? Sell $40 worth of food stamps and get $20 in cash. You needed dignity? Keep the $40 and buy name-brand cereal like the rich people.

We didn’t just survive, we strategized. We turned scarcity into a game show. We turned shame into a punchline. And somewhere in the middle of all that wheeling and dealing, we learned how to stretch a dollar, read a room, and pray over a pot of beans like it was manna from heaven.

So no, I don’t regret growing up on food stamps. I thank God for the lessons. It’s comedic now. My mother paid for our lights trading her food stamps, and still had money left over to buy a fist full of jolly ranchers. I thank God for the spiritual hustle, and the lessons I learned along the way.

Lessons Learned: Food stamps were nice when they lasted but I saw the limitations my mother had. Month after month the same hustle the same mind games and the stress level of not making ends meet. I realized if I wanted different, then I had to do different. If I wanted change, I needed to take the steps to remove myself from an environment that had the mindset “This is the way it’s always been.”

 Proverbs 14:23

“All hard work brings a profit, but mere talk leads only to poverty.”
This prayer is practical and sobering. It calls out the trap of idleness and invites action, discipline, and stewardship.

Now that I am an adult far removed from poverty, I can walk into Starbucks, swipe my debit card, and buy that overpriced latte — and honestly, it means everything. Growth. I’ve come a long way from where I started. But some things never change — I still love a good deal, so I always ask for a little extra foam and sprinkles on top.

 From Your Friend, Me