A Litany of Blessings — and One Terribly Ugly Bag
It is past time for us to show kindness and compassion to each other.
We all walk different paths down life’s innumerable trails. None of us walk side-by-side, lock-stepped in with our friends and families. What we experience may be similar, but at the same time, wildly different. We comfort ourselves when we realize a higher authority has control of our destinies, and we are just along for the ride.
Whether that higher authority is God, Mother Nature, or perhaps Father Time, many of us try hard to walk a straight and narrow path, hoping to arrive at the same destination, heaven. That’s why it is important to look for the blessings in our lives and not the curses.
For anyone who hasn’t had an opportunity to travel to different parts of the world, let me assure you: America, and its inhabitants, are blessed beyond measure — not only with freedoms, but with amenities and conveniences many parts of our world have yet to experience.
Quite a few countries do not have the conveniences we enjoy, like a federal highway system to help transport them to and from work, or to get to far-away destinations where they can rest and relax. Their city roads aren’t made of asphalt or concrete. They are dirt paths with deep potholes.
If you look in any American home you will surely find running water available. We use sinks and faucets to help us wash dishes, remove waste from our toilets, and help us with our personal hygiene when we take showers. In many impoverished countries, those abilities are considered luxuries that cannot be afforded because the average worker doesn’t earn anywhere near the amount of money necessary to provide these necessities.
While I was in Vietnam, there were times when we would walk along roads that didn’t have cars zooming past us at sixty miles an hour. We might see an occasional motor scooter, but nothing close to a four-door sedan, or pick-up truck.
Food and water were two important commodities that many times had to be searched for each day. The water supply would come from the nearest creek or stream, somewhere in the jungle, or perhaps a river snaking through mountainous terrain, where the Indigenous often cleansed themselves…
