Drive-by Disillusion

Surrender can't be on my terms. If I'm the one who is losing the battle, that means privilege is not mine.

Today I was driving and as I neared home I passed as I always do the very small and old apartment complex as I turn onto my street. Every time I have ever passed these homes I think about those who live there. All of them are Mexican-American, and many of them stand outside drinking beer and fixing their old cars. I know a few of the children who live there. I've done my best to reach out to one family there, a single mother and her three children. The kids have been over to my house several times through the years, and the eldest tells me in the summer that he can't come over to swim in my backyard because he has to go with his mother and pick berries to help make money. It breaks my heart and I love that mother very much even though I've never spoken to her.

This time when I drove by I thought of the image they must see in me (we wave when we see each other every time).... I'm wearing sunglasses, dressed nicely, driving a nice car, singing along to the music with the sun shining. I must look perfect to them. Like everything is going my way. Meanwhile, what am I thinking? I am thinking about what I don't have... which is obviously so much less than they.

Disappointment wouldn't be what it was if it didn't truly disappoint. If it were not inexplicable, unexpected, or unfair.

Does life hurt? Yes. For some people it hurts more than others. Some people have more than just one thing to be honestly saddened over.... A missing father, trouble making rent, social rejection; just a few of the things I could imagine in my mind that might dampen the cheery sunshine that's over everyone today.

As I wave and pass by, what if the feeling they feel when they see me, is disappointment and disillusion with their own life? What if when they see me they wonder why, and think life is unfair?

Have I lost touch with how wonderful what I have been given, truly is wonderful? I don't want to be the ignorantly prideful type who does a drive-by insult to those who live more humbly than I. If I think I've learned what it feels like to live with something unfair, I ought to practice discretion and gratitude over the good things I have.

Elijah

Yesterday evening we got home at about nine o'clock from the hospital. Went straight to bed but this little boy got sick from our desperate attempt to satisfy his pre-milk-coming-in appetite with formula. He threw up, so I gave up trying to sleep to just be with him. Took him to the bathtub. He didn't like the water, either, so I quickly wrapped him up in a warm towel and put him against my chest.

All night long he had been giving fuss to try and nurse, but this time I guess he was just too tired to bother the head-bobbing because of my skin. He buried his head down into the towel, and grabbed a fist-full of my hair to hold on. The whole little realm taken up by his body was well within just my navel to clavicle. I looked down into his fetal wrap and was amazed, taking in what surely was the most life-like ultrasound I could have ever hoped to have. I felt a little intimidation this angle to see just how big his head was.... His index finger was inserted into his mouth, and he wimpered every other breath.

It must have felt natural to him to roll up in a ball and be held. After all, we were only 50 hours postpartum. I remained there, rocking him, looking at him... awestruck. And pleased to be the one he wanted to bring comfort.