my problems are stupid

Really. They are. My problems are stupid.  I don't know how many times I have to be reminded of this, but somewhere between frequently and hourly.

I have what I call "first world white woman problems." Hard drive crashing, muffin top, graying hair, lack of insurance, accidentally backing into my ex-husband's car with my van (yeah...that last one happened last week).

See--stupid problems, right?

Although they don't always feel stupid. Sometimes, a lot of times, they feel suffocating. And numberless. As soon as I can knock one down, another comes up. They start to make me feel bad about myself and my abilities, scared about my future, uncomfortable in my present, and melancholy about my past. And then...the stupid perspective comes:

I see a man with his legs removed at the hip crossing the street in his motorized wheelchair. Otherwise young, healthy, attractive, but unable to walk. And he's smiling, seems in a hurry to be somewhere on time.

A friend's 8 year old son overhears me talking to her about money stresses, stops playing, goes upstaris, and comes back down clutching a dollar and twenty-seven cents in his hand. "I know it's not much," he says, offering it to me, "but maybe it will help?" I pull him into a big hug and weep over his unselfish kindness.

Tonight, I read the news story about the Pakistani acid victim survivor, Fakhra Younus, formerly a beautiful dancer who has lived with her face burned and scarred beyond recognition for over a decade, undergoing one painful surgery after another, all while trying to advocate for other women attacked with acid by vengeful husbands.

She finally committed suicide by jumping from the balcony of her hotel room, unable to endure anymore. And I weep again because I am here, behind this computer, healthy and whole and comfortable and full-stomached; my freshly bathed children tucked safely into warm beds; my dishwasher humming along; my cat asleep next to me. Lights, power, food, vehicle, a closet full of clothes and shoes. Lonely. But safe.

And yes, there is a burdening amount on my mind tonight--huge decisions that need to be made. But they do seem, comparitively, miniscule.

*I do hope one day soon to have a sufficient amount of income to allow me to work less like an insane woman and parent more, maybe have time to start a relationship, refresh some friendships. Stop making people feel like they're squeezed in, despite my best attempts not to.

*I do hope one day to be able to afford health insurance again so when weird stuff happens inside my body, I could actually go see a doctor and not rely on Web MD (which always comes to the conclusion that I am, indeed, as good as dead).

*I hope to be able to repair the roof on my house, update the electrical system, maybe go so far as to remodel my hobo-smelling bathroom once all four boys have proven they can hit the toilet.

*I want a life that can stay settled for longer than six months at a stretch without knocking me down with some other make-it-or-break-it trial.

But know that any complaining/worrying/ruminating I have done and will certainly do on my life's challenges comes with the perspective that I know most of my problems are stupid. Yes, they're bigger than a lot of people would ever wish for, and (frustratingly) due in large part to bad decisions others have made, but I know they were custom-designed for me by a God who knows I'm smart, humble, and faithful enough to handle them. Or, if I'm not, He is.

And He's always got my back.