As I sit here I can here the 5 year old is crying. Crying irritates me. Unless it's legit, which this isn't. And I know this because this isn't my first rodeo. I've heard lots of crying before and I know legit crying when I hear it.
The boys have been sidetracked with some Wii. The oldest is primping in her bedroom.
My computer chair has a new weird tilt and sinks slowly as I write. Also irritating.
It's Saturday and the man is working, again. I am alone with the children, again.
Some crazy person has shot up a bunch of kids in Norway for no good reason. Would there, could there, ever be a good enough reason to shoot up a bunch of innocent children? If there is I do not want to know it.
My heart is heavy for the parents and families of these lost ones. I have cried a lot these last two days.
Why is everything so sad all the time? Why can't we all just get along?
It is so strange to me that in every realm of life there is contention and chaos. It ranges from families all the way to terrorists trying to kill as many people as they can.
Contention and chaos. From loved ones to strangers.
I try to teach my kids to just get along. It is actually easier to enjoy each other than to be upset with one another. Am I wrong?
Yet, there continues to be a daily struggle.
But there is also love. Maybe that's the difference.
Maybe not, I just don't know. Between the earthquakes that decimate entire islands, droughts that wipe out millions, egotistical power hungry men who think they can steal your private thoughts from your phone and get away with it, mothers who may or may not have killed their own child and crazy gunmen that shoot children for two straight hours my head spins at a fairly consistent rate.
And then there's me and my bubble. For instance, I sit here and wonder if this is a weed or a tree/plant.
It is growing outside my front window. At first, I thought it was a weed. It was short and weed-like. I went to pull it but the base of it was thick and tree-like. I decided to let it be for a bit. I got home from holidays and the thing is 4 feet tall and has huge tree-like leaves. There are no flowers on it. It's like a beanstalk or something, minus the beans. By the end of summer it will be as tall as my house. Weed or not, it's pretty ugly so I think it has to go.
To pull or not to pull, that is the question I ask as I sit here in my safe house with my scrappy kids who are now playing lego nicely together, I might add, while mothers and fathers plan funerals for their dead.
Am I ungrateful? Sometimes I feel ungrateful. Maybe just clueless. Maybe I'm taking advantage of the fact that devastation hasn't rocked my own personal world yet. Maybe my time will come. Maybe it won't. Maybe I simply don't understand. This must be true because does anyone really understand what is happening to the people around them?
Maybe I don't care.
That can't be it because why would I cry some much if I didn't care? Especially when I feel so numb all the time due to my own problems eating away at me. The same problems that seem to silly compared to so many others.
I think I do care. But so what? What good does that do anyone? To care after the fact.
Maybe I'm selfish, unaffected, narcissistic, disingenuous.
Whatever I am, one thing never changes, I just want everyone to get along.
Is that really too much to ask? Is it too simplistic? Is it impossible?
Do all of these awful things happen so that the those unaffected by that immediate misfortune can be thankful for what they have? If so, why can't we be thankful enough without the misfortunes of others? Or is being thankful a mere side note to the devastation that would have happened anyway?
Whatever the reason, and I may never know, today I am thankful.
Is there any amount of thankfulness I could feel that might equal the level of sadness others are feeling today? Is there any way to know?
Today there are people in Norway whose anguish I may never know. Because of this, today I am more thankful for my children and my husband than I have been in a long time.
Like a reminder of what I already knew but may have forgotten for a moment.
The 5 year old is not crying anymore. The boys are together and peaceful. The oldest looks beautiful due to her primping. I am practically sitting on the floor because my chair has lost it's will to live and refuses to stand tall. I will go pull the weed/tree/plant thing now. All the while, I will remember that this isn't my time to feel direct loss and sorrow. My time will come, I'm sure, but it isn't today. Today that is reserved for others. Today is my time to feel thankful and grateful.
So I do.