I believe in a better way

Long car rides always give me ample time to think about life. Sometimes I hate that fact, and sometimes I embrace it. Today, I embraced it. I had the pleasure of riding to a town an hour away with my grandmothers. As grandmother's go, mine is logical, wise, and safe. Very safe. Like drive the speed limit when there are no cops around safe. So it was a long ride.

However, I love my grandmother. My grandmother is kind and compassionate and wise beyond belief. She instilled the most valuable lesson in my mother that has since been passed on to me. "Worry about the things you can change, but don't worry about the things you can't." Simple lesson; hard to apply.

At 20, understanding this world seems like such a hard task. I'm trying to understand it the best I can. Anne Lammott says that we are every age that we've ever been, and that truth has been well pronounced in these past weeks. I have gotten a job with the director of social services in my county. On a daily basis, I encounter stories about crazy people with crazy situations, and sometimes I feel like a wide eyed nine-year-old listening to the stories. Their stories break my heart, and I remember being in middle school and thinking about all of the people who needed a home and food in the city where my church was located. It broke my heart, just thinking about all of the need that was so close to where I was. Sixteen saw me in the country of Panama, in the mountains with the poorest of poor natives who lived in the smallest of spaces and worked for just dollars a week harvesting coffee. At ten I was in the slums of South Africa, conducting Vacation Bible Schools and eating of the hard earned food that the families worked so that we could enjoy. Just last year I walked through Western Kenya with Pastor Ben, talking about daily life, trying to communicate with what little of each others' language that we knew. I am every age that I have ever been.

Through these years I've begun to realize that everyone has pain in their lives. These crazy people with crazy stories operate with what little coping mechanisms they have, and often that coping consists of manipulation, deceit, cheating the system, or simply sleeping with any available human being. What else have they been taught? Sometimes those stories will come along when you see that someone has fought it out and come out on top, but so many of the stories I hear are a result of generations of poverty, poor mental health, and just simply poor living.

I feel so bad that people have to live like that. The pain in the world does break my heart, and I feel guilty and responsible. The responsible citizen in me recognizes my ability to help in any way I can, and that it truly is a responsibility. I feel guilty for living such a priveleged life. Some higher-ups may not view it as priveleged, but let me tell you: I am priveleged. I get to go to school (college! an education!) and I get to eat quality food on a daily basis. That food was not bought with food stamps and my housing is not payed for with government assistance. In fact, I have my own room! And I can travel! I can see the world, expand my horizons, realize my dreams. I haven't worked for the things I have, and I really should work harder. Am I grateful? Rarely. The quality of living that I have does not exclude me from the responsibility that I have to improve the quality of living for others. How can I be so priveleged and not share my love with others? How can I be so priveleged and not share my joy with others? My wealth?

So this crisis of responsibility is where I'm at. Everyone is in pain. The teenager you pass on the highway may be struggling with self esteem and weight issues because of the terrible standard her body is held to. She may be cutting or have an eating disorder. That man at the gym? Depression. Maybe that girl in front of you at the bank is facing bankruptcy. Perhaps the young man behind the counter at your favorite fast food restaraunt goes home to a mother who has a terminal disease and he's working to support his family. But other things, like a flat tire, a bad grade, a fight with a close friend, a breakup, a broken ankle, or just a bad day can affect all of us at one point or another. We're all hopping along with some sort of disability, some sort of handicap. None of us are perfect. At one point or another, one of our tires have gone flat and we've had to ride on a donut. That's sort of how I've begun to see the people in the world. Just cars with 3 good wheels and the fourth: a donut.

"God is in the slums, in the cardboard boxes where the poor play house. God is in the silence of a mother who has infected her child with a virus that will end both of their lives. God is in the cries heard under the rubble of war. God is in the debris of wasted opportunity and lives, and God is with us if we are with them. 'If you remove the yoke from your midst, the pointing of the finger and speaking wickedness, and if you give yourself to the hungry and satisfy the desire of the afflicted, then your light will rise in darkness and your gloom will become like the midday and the Lord will continually guide you and satisfy your desire in scorched places' (Isaiah 58:9-11)." -Bono