Why me?

So I hope my post yesterday didn't come off guilt trippy or anything. I was just so floored that this man, this African man witnessing so much death, has no doubt that we who live comfortably and get to see our children grow up without much thought to hunger or poverty or disease would answer their call for help. What an amazing thing. What a generous thing. To believe that we are a people who will help rather than blaming us for not helping more quickly.

I felt so strongly about yesterday's post. I woke up yesterday after having had a nightmare. I can't remember what it was exactly but I do remember at one point in the dream having to run for my life while carrying my infant nephew (who is now 1 1/2 in "real life"). Like a lot of dreams, the details were hazy. But I distinctly remember I was so intent on trying to save us both and just overwhelmed with the number of people evacuating the city we were in. There was this feeling of exhaustion, questioning where I would go, wondering where the rest of my family was and a moment of guilt when I wondered if saving this baby was more cruel than good and sentencing him to a life too terrible to live.

When I woke up, Sean (our three year-old) came in to our room half asleep. He crawled into bed with us and I remember this deep gratitude I felt suddenly that the dream was gone. But that was immediately followed by the realization that the dream? Could have been my reality. I could have been born anywhere on this earth. My family could be struggling through starvation, trying to rebuild after war or natural disaster. And for some reason, I was lucky enough - blessed enough - through absolutely no credit of my own to have been born in the United States. To parents who are good people, in a safe neighborhood, where there was education to be gained and a life to aspire to. And that realization was staggering to me. Why me? Why Rusty? Why any of us reading this who have a roof over our head and food to eat? And why those people? Why are they sentenced to be the ones who have to starve or run for their lives or wonder if life is really better for their children than death if that's all there is to their life?

It's a startling feeling, being hit with so much responsibility. To know that as someone who is even "just" middle class, I am still among the richest group of people on earth. It makes me feel helpless, too. What can I do? Aside from donating money, I mean.

So please don't take any of what I wrote to be preachy. It really was just a matter of self-realization for me. A wake-up call. A reminder to not let my life get in the way of the big picture. I know I have a family to love and be loved by and friends to care for and enjoy life with. I have a life. And I truly believe that a part of my responsibility is to live that life to the fullest enjoying every single second. But that life is lived on this earth and this earth is shared by others in need. I'm still working on how to make sure that idea remains balanced. It's just overwhelming.