Tonight as Jack and I said our prayers, I mentioned the people of Haiti and asked for God to please spend extra effort helping the souls in need in that terrible situation. Jack inevitably wanted to know about a) earthquakes b) if our house could break and c) where people slept when they had no house. So we talked at length about blessings, and not taking things "for granite" as Dan would say. Jack, in a rare moment of quiet contemplation, said, "They should come live in our house." I absolutely started tearing up. I wish it were all that simple. I wish that our luck and success were that easy to extend to others, especially long-distance. I wish that there were something more that I could do besides donate the money I would normally spend on having someone clean my house to this cause.
As I scrubbed my bathroom yesterday (it only took 2 hours...anal much?) I thought, with each puff of breath I took to blow my hair out of my sweaty face, that it seems ultimately unfair that such an unforeseeable and unpreventable tragedy should strike a place that is already so down-trodden and angst-ridden. How can people who are already living in poverty, fear, and hunger deal with an EARTHQUAKE? It's not like they even had houses to crumble...the slums simply collapsed. My frustration and helplessness is unassuagable, and I wish I had a solution besides a simple monetary donation. I decided that the least that I could do was to not take one iota of my amazing life in America for granted, to remember evertime I look in my sweet baby's perpetually grinning face that we are so very lucky, and so very fortunate to have been born here, to have parents that gave us everything they could in order to succeed. I will try to remember with my every (numerous) gripe and worry that things could be SO MUCH WORSE, and that I am a spoiled, spoiled girl. Spoiled with love, shelter, food, and freedom from fear. I would share it all if I could.
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