Perspective

This morning I was filling out the baby book and out of nowhere, I thought, “What a luxury.” Here I am, drinking coffee on my porch while my son plays on his playground and I watch my daughter sleep in her crib on the video monitor. As I carefully wrote about each month of her life so far, it struck me that so many people in this world don’t even have this situation as an option.

Hang with me. I’m not trying to belittle the way we live our lives or the problems we face, but could we all just agree for a moment that the only reason you’re reading this blog is because you have access to the internet and spare time to actually access the internet? And here I am, typing away on my MacBook Air in my air-conditioned suburban home drinking a glass of wine?

I’m not trying to make you feel bad. And I don’t feel guilty for having a porch or coffee or a playground or a video monitor.

But it does make me think.

When I’m out and about taking Baby E to her doctors appointments, I come across some really, really sick kids. Kids that would break your heart. I meet moms who are tougher than I’ll ever need to be. When I look into their eyes, I see strength and resilience and utter exhaustion. I am beyond humbled to know that I only have to go through this for months and not years.

I live in such a world of luxury that I was able to switch healthcare providers when she was one month old because the first hospital system was stinking it up. This is unreal. Oh, I don’t like this group of highly educated doctors and surgeons. I’ll just hop on over to this elite group of doctors BECAUSE I CAN.

Perspective is good. It’s healthy.

I read somewhere that the easiest and quickest way to feel better when you’re sad is to go volunteer. Why? You get served up a big ol’ slice of humble pie, and you realize that you are capable of helping, loving, and digging other people out of the holes they’re in. You realize that you have value and they have value.

I guess the point of this post is that in the future, I hope to put myself and my family in situations that makes us go, “Huh. My life is not that bad. In fact, I’ve been kind of a whiner.”

And right now, my life is not that bad. Am I scared about her open-heart surgery? Oh geez, yes. Do my fears matter to God any less just because I’m privileged? No. Definitely not.

But I am humbled, because I live in a world with healthcare and internet and options and coffee and screened porches.