Thank you for always humbling me.
When I wake in the morning, bleary-eyed because my son woke up throughout the night – either because he didn’t feel well or because he was having nightmares about fireworks and Captain Hook – you remind me there are others who have not been able to sleep all night because of how worried they are about their loved ones, or who have not slept for days because they are living in the midst of a disaster area, wondering if they will make it through another day.
When I grumble underneath my breath because I am running late, again, and the traffic has reached a stand-still for no apparent reason other than too many cars at the same time, same place, you show me how others have to withstand inclement weather many times just to reach their destination, regardless of the time. You gently remind me that not everyone has the luxury to a) have a car or b) have a job. I have both; I will try not to forget that in my moments of weakness.
When I am near tears because everything just seems to be going wrong, from minute mishaps – such as dropping everything my hands try to grasp – to ones with a degree more of seriousness- my son getting sick back-to-back – you clasp my hand, pat it, and then tell me the story of those whose children are dying, who’ve lost a husband, and who have just escaped, at nine months pregnant, being literally beaten to death.
You place people in my path, God, every day to tell me stories, stories of how things are for others, and stories that help put my own troubles in perspective. Thank you for that, and please keep reminding me. I’ll try to remember, but I can’t promise I always will.
Your humble servant,