Most days I can pretend I live There. I go to the mall and eat at Burger King. I open my cupboard and find muffin mix, Girl Scout cookies and all kinds of other treats. I sit in my air-conditioned apartment and watch a movie. Our car is relatively big and it's filled with normal kid stuff--car seat, stroller, sippy cups.
But some days, like today, I go to the grocery store and remember that I'm Here. There's no regular flour, only self-rising. There aren't any hot dogs. The diapers that we've been trying to find for a week still aren't in stock (and are not to be found in any grocery store around) and we have to settle for another brand. All the shelves have been rearranged; no one would necessarily notice several items missing. But I notice. With the shelves rearranged, you're never quite sure if the missing item(s) are ever coming back.
And I think, This would just never happen There.
I'm not There, I'm Here. And I'm happy to be Here.
And I know that in the long run, these are tiny sacrifices--there are people all over the world experiencing real suffering.
But some days, like today, I feel a little sorry for myself.