As a child, my mother always worked forty hours making minimum wage while my father had two jobs and worked even more. Although I never spent much time with my father and my mother was always taking care of her children, I knew they loved us very much and wanted the best for us. My mother and father often lectured me to be grateful of my education and to take advantage of that opportunity to excel in my education and become a doctor to help those who are ill. This way I would not have to work myself to death like they did every week and I could support my own family. Every night my mother had us all pray before we went to sleep, thanking God that we at least had a home, food and shelter. However, one day, I heard a knock on my door and