So, two weekends ago I hopped in my 2012 Ford Focus (bought and owned by my parents). I drove 283 miles to visit my still-married mother and father. I stayed alone in one of our three guest bedrooms on a queen-sized bed that had a brand new mattress. Most of the weekend I watched Netflix on my Roku in our living room or used my parent's credit card to stock up on winter clothing and groceries to last me the next week or so.
I drove back to my home in Chattanooga three days later to attend my two jobs, one of which I got because my mother's old childhood friend had connections. The other I got because I was able to apply online to hundreds of jobs with my 2015 Macbook Air provided to me by my parents.
But one major thing that has sat with me since I left home is something my mom showed me one night after dinner. She ran to our computer room to find a small slip of paper that said, "What's your number??" There were 35 statements on a checklist most of which pertained to privileges you had as a child. Such as, "I received an education with more than one person of my race in the classroom" or "Both of my parents are eligible to vote." The fact of the matter is, the more items you checked off the more privileged you were. And my number was 29.
I've known for a very long time how lucky and wonderful my life is. But ever since I took that privilege quiz, I've begun to constantly think about what it means for where I am in my life right now. I cried to my mom the other day on the phone because I was nervous about finances in my life and the first thing she said was, "We are NOT going to let you starve. We aren't doing this whole 'live on your own' thing to scare you and overwhelm you. We want you to struggle, but if you fall behind we're here to catch." The comfort of knowing this lifted a huge weight off of my shoulders but as soon as I hung up I wondered what exactly people without such a wonderful net of security do on a day-to day basis.
My life has become an obsession with the money I make. It's become an obsession with why the hell we do what we do. I want to do so many things to help others that I can already see it becoming unhealthy for me. It's as if I want to repay my blindness to the situations around me with sheer selflessness. But the strongest reactions I get to bringing up these things is that I have to watch out for myself first. I can't seem to do that with the knowledge that I'm getting by but the man walking down the street to the right of my sits in a world of anguish with his "Food or Money Please: Homless Veteran" cardboard sign.
I'm not intending to brag. I'm not trying to talk about how much stuff my mom and dad buy for me. I just want to know what else there is for me to do...what else there is for all of us to do. I know deep in my heart it was right to give that gentleman my Wendy's Cheeseburger... I know it was right for me to foot the rest of someone's ticket when they realized they didn't have enough to even pay for a half gallon of milk. I try everyday to do at least one kind thing and even then I sometimes feel like it's not enough. Open your eyes, beautiful people. Open them and open your hearts and minds to what you are possibly provided. We have so much. We were given so much, and it's time to share it with others.
