It Sucks To Be You

A friend once said those very words to me. She preempted this with an apology, like, "I know this isn't going to sound right, but..." and the moment she said it sucked to be me I concurred that indeed I was in a world of trouble. All me and not her.

Long ago, fate had cast its dark gloomy net over both of us. While my friend managed a narrow escape, I was caught, ensnarled without any way out. It sucked to be me. What I wouldn't give to not be in my shoes at that time in my life. I could not have felt more helpless or alone. I  didn't know how I was going to get through it and all she did was point out the painfully obvious.

I did get through that nightmare and, not surprisingly, our friendship did not last. At the time, I was too distracted by my immediate problems to realize her insensitive and cold response. I just laughed it off as she handed me a glass of wine.

Today I saw a photograph of a huge sign built on top of a roof of a two-car garage which read, "Thank you Lord!". It was obvious what the homeowner was grateful for.  Every other home surrounding this one had been thrashed by a tornado, but this home survived the catastrophic nightmare. Hey,  I would count my blessings, too. But to post this sign didn't feel right to me. It had me thinking hard about contrition, self preservation,  the Virtue of Selfishness. About apathy.

Thanking God for sparing you from a natural disaster is a bit like sending a thank you note to the serial killer that stabbed the family next door. Being grateful is a healthy attitude. I count my blessings every single day. Indifference or lack of concern, on the other hand, seems to be a growing trend.

Thank god I don't have cancer, thank god my husband didn't cheat on me, thank god my basement didn't flood, thank god I didn't get broadsided by that teenage texter. This list is endless. Instead of revelling in self satisfaction, knowing 'I got mine', I shouldn't just be concerned but also compelled to act for those who are less fortunate. Those who have holes in their shoes or no shoes at all.

There is another picture I can't get out of my head. It's the one with several African children sitting on a dirt floor, straight- legged, all their barefeet perfectly forming a tight circle. In their culture,  when given a loaf of bread they immediately tear off a peice and pass it around. They can't imagine keeping the entire loaf for one's self. They cannot fathom NOT sharing because everyone needs a little piece to calm their stomachs. Everyone needs a bit of peace in their hearts. And imagine this: no shoes are required.