dear life

Dear Life--

I work marketing in a luxury real estate office. Do you know what that means? It means all day long I look at houses and lofts and condos in the highest price ranges in our city. Ones with bathrooms as big as my home. They look like this:

And they suddenly intensify all the imperfections in my circa-1988 ranch-style builder's special that needs a new roof and new doors and a new HVAC and new windows and the carpets cleaned.

Working in a swanky part of town also means that I share the parking garage with a lot of swanky new cars. It seems every week there's something new and shiny parked next to me. Something with the dealer's temporary registration still taped in the back window, indicating it's not only new but BRAND new. Mostly Euoropean sport sedans, but these fancy tanks are also popular:

Which serves as a sore and ugly reminder that my mini-van is now 11 years old and won't hang on forever.

I also have to walk daily by all the new chic restaurants our city is known for--their patrons strewn about the patio dining, listening to live piano music, and forking cuts of tender beef into their mouth, while I envision my food-shaped Lean Cuisine meal waiting for me in the freezer back at the office.

You know what else I seem to see everywhere that isn't really money-related but is something I don't have all the time that I really want? This:

 

Love. Support. Laughter. Hugging and kissing and special glancing. The stable blessing of waking up to the same person every morning. Sigh.

 

Not to mention all the cute shoes and outfits hanging in store windows that cost as much as my monthly grocery bill. And all the salon services (hot stone massage, deep conditioning, hombre hair, shiny nails, hair waxing, 18th century diseases injected in your wrinkled face) that I'm sure would take several years off my oft-bedraggled appearance if only I could afford even the tip on such frivolities.

 

Well, all these wants add up inside me sometimes until I find myself no longer seeing the donut--just the hole.

 

But, Life, you're too good to let me go on like that for long, aren't you? In quiet, daily moments, usually in prayer or scripture study, you remind me that I am still a blessed, blessed woman. That although my home will never have a sauna or a 6 car garage or a room devoted entirely to my cats (just saw one of those today), there are people who live like this:

 

 

 



That although my mini-van has its quirks and a nice paint gash where I accidentally backed into Brad's car a few months ago, some families will never know more than this for transportation:

That while I may not dine in fancy restaurants with any regularity, I have never known any real hunger, have never waited in a bread line or stood by a ration truck, fighting to keep my family's share.

And though I may  not have a cuddle partner all the time, I do still have my Mr. Perfect and the perfectly lovely monthly visits we've managed to patch together, and the hope that--in due time-- we might be able to figure out how to make it work with moving and kids and money and all.

I know just how lucky I am to be in a place where the source of my fears has never had to be from war, torture, disaster, or homelessness...

But more from the unknown--risks taken or not taken. Important choices requiring great amounts of faith to decide on.

Life, I know that a loving God has designed you for each of us perfectly. That He loves the billionaire and the refugee just the same, and that monetary status is not a reflection of the goodness of the person. In fact, there have been studies showing that people in third world countries are actually HAPPIER than those in first-world countries with their fretting over second mortgages and iPhone covers.

It doesn't mean my trials still aren't hard to carry, but they're mine. Designed for me to be able to find the strength to endure and to overcome. And honestly, I wouldn't trade them in for anyone else's. Of course, if you'd like to let me try living in that high-rise condo and driving that dandy Land Rover--just to be *certain* I'd not trade for that trial, well, I suppose I'd be down for the experiment :).

But really, thank you for my life, Life. Thank you for what I have, what I still have, what I've always had. Thank you for my mostly strong and able body, my toothpaste commercial teeth, and my nice abs. Thank you for the variety of cold cereal in my pantry. Thank you for this safe country that allows me to speak my mind, cast my vote, and sit in the church of my choice each Sunday worshipping the God I believe in. Thank you for love. And the hope of love. And thank you most of all for these:

When my boys are near, I just can't see the hole at all. Everything is simply donut, donut, donut.