The Life of the Privileged

---If you don't read below, the jist is that all things to which I have attained, and all good things in my life come from Heavenly Father.-----------------------

My old jalopy was shielding me from the downpour, and my windshield wipers were exerting a spasmic last-ditch effort to clear my vision of the road. Today was my early morning trip to the gym, and at 5:45 the weather was ominous. I guess, in a smug way, I was patting myself on the back for my dedication to my exercise regime; I was feeling the tinge of pride mixed with the swirling of an oncoming adrenaline rush. The early morning haze and my upcoming physical beating elicited quicker breaths and a heightened awareness of my surroundings.  It's that personal euphoria of, "I'm doing it. Keep up the good work."

It wasn't an outline, or even a figure, that appeared on the opposite side of the overpass on which I was travelling.  Through the mist, I was distinctly impressed the sight of a hooded person, his or her visage (the bundling was such that it was difficult to tell gender) downbent against nature's onslaught. Some people refer to such moments as I then had as an 'awakening,' or 'revelation.' Of a sudden, I realized that they were walking on the side of an overpass absent of a sidewalk, in a direction which led only to farming fields and clusters of residential homes, with nowhere to go. Questions were bubbling up my mind as to where in the world were they trudging at this time of the morning?  They didn't appear as one walking without purpose.  Usually the gait of an aimless person is slower than was theirs.  No, the walking was definitely for a reason. I passed them in my car very much confused.

So, I turned around.

To borrow an adage, turning around was easier said then done.  I've been known to frequently offer rides to people walking  home from the grocery store laden with bags, or heading to school in the snow.  I've stopped at the scene of an accident and sat holding the head of a bleeding man in my lap.  Nonetheless, this was a quirky incident. Nonetheless, nonetheless, I turned around, and offered the person a ride.

The person was a he, and to be blunt in description, not very well kempt.  The rain on his face formed rivulets about a young and scruffy face, with two thin tufts of lips covered by mismanaged facial hair.  My initial instinct was to withdraw at a slight putrescent odor that was amplified by the wetness of his coat. Even in writing this, I'm a bit ashamed at my first initial recoil, and opprobrious judgement.

He was on his way to work at a call center, a good two miles our point of meeting.  He'd already walked five, yes five, miles.  One way, the trip totalled seven miles.  He had a wife and daughter; he was on his way to work at a call center.  His daughter's pet name was 'princess,' and she acted very much like one.  Only three years of age, and she already could hoight and toit around their small trailer house. Boy, could she command!  He was walking seven miles in the rain to a call center?

I dropped him off at work, extended a sincere goodbye at having met him, and completed an unfocused workout at the gym.

San Lazaro (Saint Lazareth), Barrancabermeja, Santander, Colombia.
Lazarus was a leper, whose eternal inheritance was compared with that of a rich man in Luke 16:19-31.  Note Lazarus is Hebrew for "God is my help."

Now, there are the greatest of disparities in every realm of life.  Undulations propel us forward and backward in the waves of humanity and thought, religion and hope. We each have a horizon to which we are working.  This man initially appeared to me as one bereft of due respect, and to be disregarded.  Instead, I was overcome with a sense of pride in his efforts to sustain a family.  His livelihood was not reputable; yet to his work he was dedicated. He didn't appear the dedicated patriarch, but I've seldom met the pride wrought when he described his daughter. In his own standard reach, he was creating a sense of sustainability. He was taking life by the bootstraps, for thus he was situated in the droves of society, and pulling himself up in a laborious manner to a greater life.

In direct opulent comparison, I am indeed privileged.  There is no need to cite the reasons for this conclusion, but I was made to think about my current situation.  I'm in no way reducing my situation in life by comparison to another, but am made to think about the efforts we each produce, despite our little lives of gardens.

In gratitude, I'm drawn to two scriptures, the first said by Moses to the Lord, and the second by King Benjamin to his congregation.

"O Lord God, thou has begun to shew thy servant thy greatness, and thy mighty hand: for what God is there in heaven or in earth, that can do according to the works, and according to thy might? (Deut. 3:24)"

"Are we not all beggars?  Do we not all depend upon the same Being, eve God, for all the substance which we have, for both food and raiment, and for gold, and for silver, and for all the riches which we have of ever kind?

...And now, if God, who has created you, on whom you are dependent for your lives and for all that ye have and are, doth grant unto you whatsoever ye ask that is right, in faith, believing that ye shall receive, O then, how ye ought to impart of the substance that ye have one to another. (Mosiah 4: 19, 22)"

I'm not suggesting that the man I drove to work was a beggar; I'm instead suggesting that the firmness of his dedication, despite the limited penumbra of his ability and influence, have inspired me.  We each have an ability to act in the sphere in which we are created, and to fully tax our God-given abilities. I am the first to give all credit to both who and where I am to the mercy and blessings of God, and to those who have served me.  Of my own accord, I am but a small sapling in a great forest, motivated toward light and greatness by the God-heavens above me and the ancients before me.  I praise my God for his remarkable blessings.