I am thankful that I have always had a place to live my whole live. I was never in need of food, shelter, or clothes, even though I was poor growing up. I learned a lot of lessons from those years of not having much. Not everyone has the fortune of growing up in a home or of knowing where their meals will be coming from or of having clean clothes and being able to take showers on a regular basis. My family depended on the donations and help of other kind souls to help us out in our time of need, either through church drives or friends bringing clothes and such. I was very young during this time but I do have some memories of those days and as I grew older, I became more and more aware of our situation. Being homeschooled, I was not as exposed to the outside world and the actual knowledge of what it meant to be poor; I was just happy to be as I was because that’s all I knew and there was no one else to tell me otherwise. Of course, being poor mean so many different things in different countries; someone who is considered poor in the U.S. would be viewed as rich in a third-world country, such as Africa. My gratitude more or less stems from the realization I have as I look back on things, knowing now what I know after gaining knowledge, about how some people around the world have to live. Picking through trash to earn a little bit of money, drinking dirty water, only having one meal a day, not having clean clothes or having tattered clothes, and having “houses” made of sticks; this is true poverty.