I’m in the middle of a happiness
challenge, one of those 21-day initiatives that encourages healthy habits.
We’re called to exercise, give thanks, reflect on something positive, perform
an act of kindness and spend at least 10 minutes praying or meditating.
I love a good checklist, and
nothing motivates me like a challenge, so I’ve been dutifully participating. My
biggest hurdle so far: counting my blessings.
There’s no shortage to list. The
challenge requires that we list three a day, but I could fill a page in my
journal every night.
The trouble is the imbalance.
The day after the deadly sarin
gas attack in Syria, when it was time to write my thanksgiving list, I froze.
Everything I thought of – safe and cozy home, comfortable bed, healthy
children, job I love – seemed so luxurious.
Tears reached the page before I
could write a single word. I thought of those children and their short,
tumultuous lives. I thought of the families they leave behind. I couldn’t shake
the inequity between my privileges and their calamity.
Eventually I jotted:
·
A/C that works again in the minivan
·
Students who work hard (and those who don’t
always but aspire to)
·
Books
That night I devoted my prayer
time to those Syrian families, aid workers and world leaders.
I’m also thankful for easy access
to food. I can drive north, east or west and reach a giant, clean grocery store
within four minutes.
I don’t even have to walk into
the store. I can order my groceries online, pull into a special parking space
at the store and listen to the radio or check my email while a clerk loads
everything I want in the trunk.
Better yet, I can order from a
different vendor online, and someone will deliver the groceries to my doorstep
at whatever time I choose. Frozen and refrigerated items are protected by
regular ice and dry ice.
If I don’t feel like rinsing,
chopping, stirring and heating, I can grab my phone and order from dozens of
nearby restaurants. I don’t even have to talk to a human. I can just click,
click, click and wait for the doorbell to ring.
Yes, I’m thankful for all of
those options.
At the same time, I am horrified
by the news this week that almost 20 million people in African and the Middle
East are at risk of dying from hunger. Famine, drought and conflict are
decimating Nigeria, Somalia, South Sudan and Yemen.
I struggle to celebrate my good
fortune while millions of other humans subsist in crisis. They have almost
nothing, and we have more than we can enjoy.
One of my acts of kindness this
week was to send a tiny loan to a merchant in Yemen, a man who struggles to buy
enough stock to sale. (My family has participated in microloans through Kiva
since 2013.)
I’m not naïve. I don’t expect my
prayers or my loan will change the world.
I hold hope, though, that enough
prayers and acts of kindness might.
I am truly grateful for the time
and place in which I was born. I am thankful for the few luxuries I’ve earned –
and the many more I didn’t.
I give thanks for the people of
privilege who devote their lives to helping souls who were born in a time and a
place less hospitable than our own.
In the middle of all that
gratitude, I keep hoping for a balance in the world, a day when conflicts and
famines don’t threaten our neighbors, a day when our brothers and sisters don’t
struggle to find happiness.
Tyra Damm is a Briefing columnist. You can reach her at tyradamm@gmail.com
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