Kicked in the Teeth.

As I was organizing the files on my computer today, I ran across something I had journaled back in August of 2010.

I hesitated to post it because of it's personal and serious nature (I try to somewhat entertain in my posts, not preach necessarily), but while reading it again I thought maybe someone might need to hear the message I desperately needed last year.

Here goes:

August 5, 2010

I watched a program on public television today that highlighted various locations across the globe where poverty shackles the larger percentage of the population.

To say it was an eye opening experience would be too cheep. Too cliché. But it was, to say the least, inspiring.

May I deviate momentarily to lend some background to my experience?

I often think God has a way of kicking me in the teeth. I really think it’s because it’s often the only way He can get me to listen.

Well tonight, I got sucker punched.

Lately I have been feeling overwhelmed. Overwhelmed with Tabby’s schoolwork (over an hour a day some days), home life, yard work, being a mom, a wife, a friend, a landlord, and career woman. It all seems too much, and I am too little.

As I sat down this evening after putting Tabs and Ike to bed, I realized I had yet to clean up the day’s activities, wash the dinner dishes, and make Tabitha’s lunch for tomorrow.

I quickly sank into unfounded self-pity. It was all too much: The responsibilities, the deadlines, the GUILT.

So while wallowing, I started watching a program on PBS.

I watched mothers carry children on their backs by wrapping bright cloths around their bodies. Kids played around garbage. Women used rocks in the lake to wash their clothing.

One mother deeply inspired me. She recalled a time when she was unable to feed her children. The memory of such desperation was so grievous and raw, she couldn’t speak, but only weep. She had one piece of clothing which, while wearing it, she washed on one end then draping the soaking fabric over her shoulder, washed the other end.

Because of her circumstances, she sought out a new loan program where she could gain a small amount of money and slowly pay it back with interest. With her $10 loan she purchased a tool to aid her in preparing rice to sell at the market.

She never went a week without paying back what was owed on the loan. And today, she is able to, for the first time, feed herself and children 3 meals a day.

And there I sat. Humbled by this woman’s strength. Her tenacity. Her genuine love for her children, and her ability to see beyond immediate circumstances.

I felt awful. Awful for complaining when I had food within easy reach to feed my children.

Food that I could send with my Tabitha who attends a beautiful, air-conditioned school and learns from educated people, and thereby will build a life of learning. Learning that will provide her the opportunity of a great future.

Shame on me.