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December 1988. It seemed the worst of times for my family. My husband was jobless. We were homeless. We were two states east from what had been our home and found ourselves ...

A darkened room. An air conditioner in the window struggling to do its job. Rows of cots filled with weeping women. Women in pain—physically, emotionally and spiritually.

My sisters and I used to shuck peas and snap the ends off beans on hot summer days. My mom and dad would pick them by the bushel from our two huge gardens, and then we’d prepare them for my mom to freeze an...