Stories about the poor stir me because all my life I have heard stories of Dad and his siblings who were extremely poor. I once asked Dad why he never became a racist, though he grew up when and where segregation reigned supreme. He looked puzzled, and said, "Son, we were the bottom; no one was under us.
During the Depression my preacher-farmer grandfather once needed a short-term loan to cover him a few weeks till the cotton harvest came in. Farmer Smith, the richest man in the area, denied the request. Grandpa mentioned his six children, but Smith said, "I don't care if your ---- family starves." Grandpa threatened, "If any of my children starves, I'll hunt you like a squirrel, and just as sure as a rifle will fire, I'll kill you." Smith let out another expletive and said, "I think you mean that." Grandpa got the loan.
I tell the story not due to Grandpa, but to what happened to Farmer Smith. He lost his fortune and only child, had to move from his mansion into a shack, shot his wife, and committed suicide. The cruel event with Grandpa exposed something terrible in Smith's heart that God saw and did not like. Watch how people treat the less fortunate. It tells much about their character.
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