I've been totally overwhelmed by amount of news lately reporting on the deaths and suffering of children. The cyclone in Myanmar (Burma), the earthquake in China, the morons accidentally shooting their children while turkey hunting in the States (yes, plural!). I sit here, tearing, wondering how parents go on without their babies. Knowing they were frightened, that they suffered, that they died... it's too much. The other day, while watching my baby sleep, I committed to memory every scratch, every dry patch (he has eczema), his wacky hairline that's still re-growing and trying to figure out what it's going to be, the smell of his breath, the way his cheek got smushed and made his lips fold into a little bow. To think that I might ever have to live without him breaks my heart and stops my breath. And parents all over the world deal with that horror every day.
I hate it, very much, when people say "we're so blessed to live in this part of the world...". While it's true that in Southern Ontario we live in a pretty safe little corner of the world, with few natural disasters to worry about, and a relatively equal and free society - to say that we're blessed, to me, implies that people living in other areas of the world are not. It gives me shivers to think that there are people out there who believe that we have been singled out to live a blessed life while others have been selected to suffer indignities and pain. Who could be so arrogant and simplistic as to think that God (in whatever form) consciously pointed his finger to a map and said "These people will know pain and despair beyond comprehension, and these people will attend Tupperware parties and want for nothing"? Excuse my exaggeration, because of course we experience death and sickness, pain and heartache. However, while each experience is devastating to people it affects, our suffering is not wide-spread or in any way part of typical day for most of us. We do not experience genocide, or tsunamis, or slavery, or war, or political unrest. We do not legitimately worry that our children will be kidnapped and hurt, that our homes will be destroyed, that we may not eat on a given day.
On a given day in my life, I worry about things such as getting my pre-pregnancy body back, about "finally" buying that bed frame I've wanted for a year or so, about having to share laundry facilities with annoying neighbours (as well as other, less trivial things, but I'm illustrating a point here). It's audacious, yet totally typical I think, as I have never experienced anything that truly flattened me, nor do I live in fear. We don't know suffering on a massive scale and I write today from a humble and slightly embarrassed place. I've always been empathetic, and emphatic about certain values and beliefs that I hold dear. I don't believe myself to be ignorant, nor apathetic, but upon reflection this week I know that I can do more. After-all, it is the responsibility of those who can do, to do, and it goes a lot further that complaining or crying about the issues that provoke us.
Post-script:
Whenever I tell my father that I'm embarrassed to be sad (because of all my life's blessings, it often seems silly and self-indulgent to complain), he says "Every drop counts. We all suffer and it all counts. Every drop of rain contributes to the ocean, and while others may contribute flood waters, don't dismiss the value of your drops into the pool. The ocean needs them all." That's a major para-phrase, but I think I've relayed the idea. Just something I thought about as I reread my post... I truly am not trying to devalue the people living in well-developed "safe" regions, just trying to wrap my own head around the unbalanced and often so unnecessary anguish all over the world. Hoping to figure out my part in it all...
