Lucky

I walked in the mist this morning, and my feet played the refrain, "Thank you, thank you, thank you." So much to thank God for; so many blessings.

I feel lucky.

Before you start formulating theological comments, I know, I know; I don't believe in luck. I don't believe the universe is a random place. And yet the other words available don't fit either: fortunate still has that idea of randomness, of the wheel of fortune, not the game show, but the medieval idea of good things ebbing and flowing, sometimes in your favor and sometimes not. Blessed? Yes, that's the right word, in my world view ("Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father
of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows"). And yet, I'm still having trouble with that one. Because if I am blessed, what does that mean about the others who are in terrible circumstances, in Haiti and everywhere? Did God choose to give me good things and to deprive others of them? I struggle with that (in common with much of the Christian world throughout history).

Everything good and bad in my life right now reminds me of those others. I am so blessed/fortunate/lucky, and yet others suffer. I am living with my parents in a comfortable house (so many have nowhere to go). I am parenting my kids by myself (it's temporary; so many are separated permanently from their children's other parent, whether by death or divorce; some can never have children; some have children who are dealing with terrible illness; most of all, my children are alive). I am lonely and miss my husband (so many never have a happy marriage like mine; for so many, their spouse is never coming back). I eat well (so many don't). I receive love and kindness from friends (so many have nobody to talk to). I miss my job (some people never find meaningful work that they enjoy). I walk through the misty morning (some lost their legs in the earthquake).

I had never heard this song before yesterday. (Who is this Jason Mraz fellow? And what is this reference to stealing things?) I saw it on Facebook, where someone had posted it as an encouragement to a woman whose husband is deployed. I keep thinking of the words. I don't really believe in luck, but yes, I am so blessed to be in love with my best friend, to be going home again, to have someone who makes it easier when life gets hard. Our island is a little the worse for wear, and my hair is a little short to put flowers in, and no, I know it's not random luck. But I still feel lucky.