The dichotomy between the world I live in and the world I write about is mind-boggling. I just wrote a story about a nine-year-old Rwandan girl who was the only HIV-negative member of her family. After watching two siblings die before their first birthdays, then her father, she dropped out of school to care for her dying mother. I run three miles for exercise; she runs three miles for water. After her mother died, she was left alone in her house, penniless, to fend for herself. She was tormented by neighbors, robbed, and nearly raped. Thankfully, I got to tell the rest of the girl's story, how God has blessed her with a new family for which she is so grateful.
I don’t have a nine-year-old this year, but I have one just older and one just younger. Their reality is clean clothes, clean sheets, clean hair, carpool, sports practices, and a snack everyday after school. In addition to lunch. And dinner. And mouthfuls of Valentine’s candy.
And yet it’s still so easy for me to use this world as my standard for what is “normal.” It’s normal for people to have minivans whose doors close at the touch of a button. Man, why don’t I have one of those? It’s normal for people to spend thousands of dollars in one week on cars, vacations, toys—all things that look so appealing. No matter how long I walk with Jesus or how many hours I spend in the Scriptures, I’m still deceived into envy more often than I care to admit. Even the “poor” in America seem to have cell phones, iPods, computers, and big screen televisions. Sometimes I find myself even envying them. Big screen TVs are cool!
But so is clean water. I turn on the faucet and out it comes. Every time! To the rest of the world, that’s not “normal.” That’s a phenomenal blessing. How can I help my children understand that? How can I myself understand it? How can I turn my envy into gratitude—not just on occasion, but as a lifestyle?
I’m working on it. Times are tough. We’re hurting along with so many others. But I look around me and see more blessings than I can possibly count. Keeping my focus right there is what I long for. Just longing isn’t enough, though. Blessing-counting takes discipline and intentionality. Not accepting any of this as normal is hard work. I’m setting my mind to it, I’m praying about it, I’m learning from those who do it so well. May people someday look to me as one who also does it well.
