survivor's guilt.

I think it's safe to say I'm not alone in this feeling. I'm sitting here, in my cozy and warm apartment (that's registering a delightful 70 degrees), nibbling on crackers (that I chose from a wide selection of goodies in my pantry), sipping fresh water (that's cold, no less), and typing on a computer that is the size of a spiral-bound notebook (which I can easily take from room to room). I wore new shoes today to work, and new jeans, and I bought a $7 lunch from a conveniently-located sandwich shop just a short walk from my office. I ate said lunch at the comfort of my desk located in the building where I have a cushy job that pays me a living wage and doesn't require me to sacrifice my integrity or wear a hairnet.

And people in Haiti are dying. By the minute. From lack of food, from lack of water, from injuries, from contamination. From not being found.

And I'm here, in the U.S., with my two university degrees, my fashionable clothes, my stocked refrigerator, my heated home, and my warm bed.

And I feel completely and absolutely guilty. Like I shouldn't have made dinner for myself tonight. Like I shouldn't have bought those new shoes. Like I should put away my diplomas from my fancy university. Like I should do more with less, give more without reservation, not have what I have been given and earned.

Because it just isn't fair.

I could get into a big philosophical, cultural, political, and economic blah-dee-blah about it all, try to sort out why I'm living in the most developed and wealthy nation on the planet, while others--our sisters and brothers in Haiti, for example--are not. Why was I chosen to live the life I've been given? Why did God give me this existence?

I've wrestled with this question long before the disaster that struck this week in Haiti, but now this question is truly haunting me. I felt awful driving to work in my heated car today, scolded myself for catching a glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror and noticing oh! how lovely my skin looks today thanks to my new moisturizer!, didn't want to eat my $7 lunch because I felt like I didn't deserve it and couldn't give thanks to God for it enough.

I pray. Oh, how I pray! And I'm really trying not to dwell on the whys and the hows of my life right now. I'm trusting that God put me here because there is work He wants me to do in this place, with the resources I've been given, work that only I can do because of the gifts He's given me. Just like there is a kind of work that only you can do because of the gifts you've been given.

But right now it's hard, because my heart hurts. The guilt is there. I'll just pray to keep pushing past it. To do the work God has put me here to do.

with love from Pittsburgh,

Laura

(photo from here)