In her whole life Mom never earned more than five or six dollars

“In her whole life Mom never earned more than five or six dollars a week. Being without a husband, it was hard for her to find any place at all for us to live.” — thus spoke Ethel Waters, and in her words we hear not merely the story of one woman, but the lament of countless mothers who have carried children through poverty with little more than faith and endurance. This is not just memory, it is testimony: testimony to the weight of hardship, to the courage of survival, and to the silent heroism that rarely makes history’s books but shapes the lives of nations.

The mom in Waters’ story stands as a figure of strength. With so little coin, with no partner to share the burden, she bore the crushing struggle of securing a roof, food, and dignity for her children. Five or six dollars a week was no wage fit for life, yet she endured. This is the cry of all mothers and fathers who have worked with weary hands and empty pockets, yet refused to surrender their duty to protect. In such figures lies a nobility greater than kings: the nobility of sacrifice.

Consider the story of Sojourner Truth, who, born into slavery, labored endlessly and was denied wages altogether. Yet when she gained her freedom, she fought not only for herself but for her children and for the generations yet to come. Like Waters’ mom, her life was forged in deprivation, but her spirit became an iron flame that could not be extinguished. These women, deprived of wealth, became wealthy in endurance, and their resilience continues to inspire.

The origin of Waters’ words lies in the harsh reality of her own upbringing, one marked by poverty and struggle in a society that offered little aid to single mothers. It reflects not only her personal past, but the broader truth of an age when women without husbands were left vulnerable, forced to navigate a world that denied them security. Her memory is both sorrow and honor: sorrow for the hardships endured, honor for the resilience that made survival possible.

But let us not hear only despair in these words. For though she speaks of hardship, she also reveals triumph. Ethel Waters rose from these humble and painful beginnings to become one of the most celebrated voices in American music and theater. The mom who labored for five or six dollars a week unknowingly planted in her child the seeds of greatness: the will to overcome, the voice to endure, and the heart to sing through suffering. Out of deprivation came artistry; out of struggle came song.

The lesson is clear: greatness is not always born in abundance, but often in want. Do not despise the days of hardship, for they can shape resilience, empathy, and strength. The sacrifices of those who came before us—parents, grandparents, ancestors—are the soil in which our own lives grow. We must honor their struggles, not by pity alone, but by living fully and carrying forward the strength they handed down.

Practical action follows: reflect on the hardships endured by those who raised you. Speak their stories aloud, so they are not forgotten. Let their sacrifices remind you to live with gratitude, to use your opportunities not lightly, but as treasures bought with their sweat. And when you meet another struggling, extend your hand—for to lift another is to honor those who once carried you.

Thus Ethel Waters’ words endure as a sacred remembrance: a mom, poor in dollars yet rich in sacrifice, carried her child through hardship without a husband, without a home secure. From her struggle was born not despair, but song, and from her poverty, a legacy. Let us never forget that behind every triumph lies the unseen labor of those who bore the heaviest burdens in silence. Their sacrifices are the true wealth of the world.