My sister and I watched this movie last night. We watched it on a roommate's portable, battery-operated DVD player because, thanks to Hurricane Gustav, our power was out. Which, on a side note, could we honestly not think of anything else to do with no electricity except watch a movie? I mean, we live in completely electricity-centered world. Almost everything we do revolves around it. And for one night when it was gone, we couldn't be creative or motivated enough to think of something to do besides cheat and watch a movie on a batter-operated DVD player. Pretty pathetic, I know. At least we watched it by candlelight.
Anyway, each time I watch this particular movie, I am always reminded at how incredibly blessed I am. I have so much. I have a family that loves me: a mom and dad that are still together after 27 years and a sister who I am so close to that we have lived together for 2 years in college even after living together at home for 18. Both sets of my grandparents are still healthy and active, living not ten miles away from where I grew up. I have never suffered from abuse or hunger. I've never not had school supplies to start the new year, or presents under the tree at Christmas, or a home to go to at the end of the day, or someone to give me a hug and tell me that I can do anything that I dream of doing. I've never been cold at night or slept without a bed; I've never had to wonder where I would get my next meal or if I would make enough money to cover rent for the next month. I get so caught up in my picture-perfect world that I rarely realize that it is picture-perfect. I forget to remember how blessed I am, how much other people don't have. And I'm not talking third world countries here(although I could write a whole entry about genocides and child soldiers alone). I'm talking about people that are here, right here in Anytown, USA who are poverty-stricken, who are emotionally and physically poor, hungry, and yearning for a better way of life. I am talking about the people who work very hard for what they have and still can't pay the bills. The people that cry at night because their children didn't have enough to eat at supper, and will have nothing at all for breakfast. And I complain because my steak at Chili's last night was undercooked, and that I have to choose between toast and cereal when I want eggs for breakfast. God forbid. God forbid that I forget that there are people in this world besides myself. God forbid that I scale the world down to fit my small perimeter of comfort when there is so much more to reality. And the reality is that every day, every single day, people are suffering from hurt, starvation, worry, and disillusionment. God forbid that I turn a blind eye to that.
There is a part in this movie that I always start to cry. You know, the part where Chris is running, dragging his son and their stuff to catch the bus on time so they can stand in line at the mission so they can sleep in a bed that night and not on the subway or in a bathroom, and Christopher, his son, drops his superhero toy. Chris keeps running and his son is screaming because he dropped his toy. They make it to the mission on time; for once they will have a warm place to stay the night, and the movie moves on. But that scene always sticks with me. That scene cuts my heart. That little boy loses the most important thing in his life, an inanimate object, sure, but something of great value and worth to him. That's the price he has to pay to sleep in a bed. I've never had to consider that. I've never had to consider the worth of a warm bed for one night. It kills Chris, you can tell, when his son is crying, but he doesn't stop because to him a bed for his son is more important than a toy for his son. God forbid that I ever have to make that choice. And God forbid that I forget there are people who make that choice every day.
Basically, my point is this: I don't want to take for granted what God has so graciously given me. I don't want to take for granted that there are children, children that I will teach, children that will be in my classroom one day, that will not have eaten breakfast, or supper, whose parents are killing themselves at work to sacrifice for their children, to keep the apartment, to send them to school, that want the best for them but can't give it to them. God forbid. Let me do everything in my power to help make their life better.
9.03.2008
The Pursuit of Happyness
My sister and I watched this movie last night. We watched it on a roommate's portable, battery-operated DVD player because, thanks to Hurricane Gustav, our power was out. Which, on a side note, could we honestly not think of anything else to do with no electricity except watch a movie? I mean, we live in completely electricity-centered world. Almost everything we do revolves around it. And for one night when it was gone, we couldn't be creative or motivated enough to think of something to do besides cheat and watch a movie on a batter-operated DVD player. Pretty pathetic, I know. At least we watched it by candlelight.
Anyway, each time I watch this particular movie, I am always reminded at how incredibly blessed I am. I have so much. I have a family that loves me: a mom and dad that are still together after 27 years and a sister who I am so close to that we have lived together for 2 years in college even after living together at home for 18. Both sets of my grandparents are still healthy and active, living not ten miles away from where I grew up. I have never suffered from abuse or hunger. I've never not had school supplies to start the new year, or presents under the tree at Christmas, or a home to go to at the end of the day, or someone to give me a hug and tell me that I can do anything that I dream of doing. I've never been cold at night or slept without a bed; I've never had to wonder where I would get my next meal or if I would make enough money to cover rent for the next month. I get so caught up in my picture-perfect world that I rarely realize that it is picture-perfect. I forget to remember how blessed I am, how much other people don't have. And I'm not talking third world countries here(although I could write a whole entry about genocides and child soldiers alone). I'm talking about people that are here, right here in Anytown, USA who are poverty-stricken, who are emotionally and physically poor, hungry, and yearning for a better way of life. I am talking about the people who work very hard for what they have and still can't pay the bills. The people that cry at night because their children didn't have enough to eat at supper, and will have nothing at all for breakfast. And I complain because my steak at Chili's last night was undercooked, and that I have to choose between toast and cereal when I want eggs for breakfast. God forbid. God forbid that I forget that there are people in this world besides myself. God forbid that I scale the world down to fit my small perimeter of comfort when there is so much more to reality. And the reality is that every day, every single day, people are suffering from hurt, starvation, worry, and disillusionment. God forbid that I turn a blind eye to that.
There is a part in this movie that I always start to cry. You know, the part where Chris is running, dragging his son and their stuff to catch the bus on time so they can stand in line at the mission so they can sleep in a bed that night and not on the subway or in a bathroom, and Christopher, his son, drops his superhero toy. Chris keeps running and his son is screaming because he dropped his toy. They make it to the mission on time; for once they will have a warm place to stay the night, and the movie moves on. But that scene always sticks with me. That scene cuts my heart. That little boy loses the most important thing in his life, an inanimate object, sure, but something of great value and worth to him. That's the price he has to pay to sleep in a bed. I've never had to consider that. I've never had to consider the worth of a warm bed for one night. It kills Chris, you can tell, when his son is crying, but he doesn't stop because to him a bed for his son is more important than a toy for his son. God forbid that I ever have to make that choice. And God forbid that I forget there are people who make that choice every day.
Basically, my point is this: I don't want to take for granted what God has so graciously given me. I don't want to take for granted that there are children, children that I will teach, children that will be in my classroom one day, that will not have eaten breakfast, or supper, whose parents are killing themselves at work to sacrifice for their children, to keep the apartment, to send them to school, that want the best for them but can't give it to them. God forbid. Let me do everything in my power to help make their life better.
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2 comments:
Haha! When our power was out we had some guys over that russell knew and played Apples to Apples Jr. Edition by candlelight. Then we got bored of the regular red cards, and wrote all of our own. Things began to get out of control as more and more answers referenced Joel's ability to please a woman.
Old entry comment, I know, but all the same I have to say those are the best things to consider before finishing college. I still haven't seen the movie, but I did work across the street from Glide UMC from the movie while in San Francisco. God forbid people sterotype the thousands of hurting people in that city. I mean the rich and the poor, because in that city they ride the bus next to one another. In their loss the business executive have a lot in common. But it's not just San Francisco...
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