Skip to content

Diamonds on the soles of her shoes

October 15, 2011

This morning started out with some chaos and angst.  The alarm went off way too early for my taste.  Kid didn’t want to get out of bed.  Printer wouldn’t work when desperately needed.  Grandspark decided to spew the contents of his stomach all over my bathroom carpet when I was already running late.  Slopped my coffee all over the counter.  Kid who didn’t want to get out of bed was moving like molasses during a Minnesota January.   Left the house for appointment much later than anticipated.  Unable to find the location of the appointment, and all the folks who ought to know where it is were trying to tell me they’ve never heard of it.

This was all just the beginning of my day.  It was a little stressful, to say the least.  But then a thought came barreling through my mind:

There are literally millions of people on the face of this planet who would change places with you in a heartbeat.

I was hungry because I forgot to eat, not because I didn’t have food.

I was running late because I was behind schedule, not because I didn’t have reliable transportation.

I drove down a highway free of ambushes and landmines.

I was taking one of my children to an appointment.  I have a child, and she is strong and intelligent and healthy.

Millions of people on this earth are hungry…isolated…longing for children…wishing the children they do have could live in health and safety and peace…

Millions of people see me as rich.

They are right.

I had no control over the time and place of my birth.  My life would have been indescribably different if I’d been born on the same date but as a black girl in Mississippi.   Or if I’d been born fifty years earlier.  Or if I’d been born to millionaires.  Or if I’d been born in North Korea or Iraq.  But I wasn’t.   I didn’t get a vote.   I was born in southern Ohio in the early 60s.  Before I took my first breath God had some pretty specific stuff lined up for me– and only me– to do.

I am a custom design.

And I have been blessed with a life that millions of people can only long for as they walk miles for clean water…or hide their children from local militia…or patch their mud walls…or scavenge for firewood…or wonder how many more days they will have to go without food.

I don’t understand God.  This should come as no surprise to me.  Scripture says quite clearly that His thoughts are far higher than mine, and it is no stretch for me to see the truth of that.   But when I look at the life I’ve been given, and then look at the world around me, I feel so…responsible.  And so small.  My blessings may bring me comfort, but I wasn’t blessed just so I could be comfortable.  I was blessed because He knew I’d be able to see them, see all those people who would gladly trade their life for mine but have no means by which to do so.

But just because I can see them doesn’t mean I know what to do about them.

3 Comments leave one →
  1. Joann permalink
    October 15, 2011 8:59 am

    Thank you!

  2. October 15, 2011 9:26 am

    Awesome perspective, Lisa. Very Powerful! Why is it that our “daily little stuff” has the power to block our God-view of the world so quickly and easily? It has always puzzled me about my own nature, that even after God does some pretty amazing and powerful things in my life it doesn’t take me long to go back to my very narrow view of my immediate situation or small scope of my surroundings. It’s sometime I need to pray for all the time…God’s view of people, God’s heart for people, God’s perspective of life….thanks for the reminder! <3

  3. October 15, 2011 11:45 pm

    Love this post. It shows the compassionate side of you that I admire.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: