Lucky me

Walked along the towpath with pal Carol last evening. Talked about Syria, work, children, fall, among other topics. Aren’t we the lucky ones? We’re not in prison, we have enough food to eat — and we even have fresh water. So far, no one’s aiming chemical weapons at us. We’re free to say what we want, go where we want, worship how we want — or not. We can read whatever we want, when we want. We can criticize our president or Congress. We can swear like farmers. We can even post ramblings on Facebook. (The Vietnamese aren’t so lucky.)

Sometimes it just occurs to me in the middle of nowhere that I’m really lucky. And I don’t understand why I’m the one here and not there suffering the loss of my child to chemical warfare — or poverty or a gunshot. It’s not a question of God’s blessing me — because that would imply that God hadn’t blessed the others whose losses so overwhelm.

For no good reason, it just is. That’s going to have to do for now. At least for me. There is no good reason for that person to suffer and not this person. It just is.


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