‘There but for the grace of God go I’

I published this piece last year, and feel the need to post it again.  I'm working with a child with a very serious illness; a child who, when he was healthy, looked eerily similar to my own boy when he was young; a child who should be learning to read and having playdates; a child who is wonderful, loving and fun to talk to.  I have watched this family struggle for a year, constantly fighting battles against his illness; constantly sacrificing.  Their struggle could be my struggle-- but for some random stroke of fate.  I think about this little guy all the time and am so grateful to know him.  

----repost from June 2012


I'm not a religious person in a traditional sense; I'm a lifelong Unitarian Universalist.  "God" is used a word used a bit loosely, there is no creed, and people believe essentially what they want.  Personal theology is more of a journey, not a destination. That being said, I haven't been attending church regularly lately.  Sunday mornings are kind of nice to spend with the family--and honestly, some of the sermons at my church have been a bit dry.  I think I would prefer to go do some public service on Sunday mornings--like serve breakfast in the homeless shelter, or camp out with girl scouts. 

When working in schools as a speech pathologist,  I do struggle with why I was born the way I am for no apparent reason (compared to some families and children I work with). Maybe I should attend church more!  Around me I see poverty, discrimination, disabilities, illnesses,  and at times death of an innocent.   I can't say that my upbringing was exactly ideal, but my resulting adult life seems a bit random on the lucky side.  Why me?

• Why am I currently so healthy?
• Why do I have everything I need?
• Why are my children college graduates?
• Why do I live in a country where I have so much freedom?

lucky

 My luck, of course, could all change tomorrow.  Still, fifty-five years of a relatively untroubled, well-fed, and wealthy life is more than totally most of the Earth's population gets.  I count my blessings each and every day, although  I still don't understand it.  I can only hope that now I approach parents with empathy, and the realization that I could have been in their shoes but for some random stroke of luck, and one day I might need the compassion from a stranger such as myself.  Maybe this ability to reflect will make me a better speech therapist.