October 19: Captive, Bound, and Double-Ironed

I don't want to end up like this guy

"Oh! captive, bound, and double-ironed," cried the phantom, "not to know, that ages of incessant labour, by immortal creatures, for this earth must pass into eternity before the good of which it is susceptible is all developed.  Not to know that any Christian spirit working kindly in its little sphere, whatever it may be, will find its mortal life too short for its vast means of usefulness.  Not to know that no space of regret can make amends to one life's opportunity misused!  Yet such was I!  Oh! such was I!"

A pretty depressing little soliloquy from Marley's ghost.  He's touching upon something that is universal for every person on this planet--life's lost opportunities.  In particular, he's talking about opportunities of charity and compassion we miss every day of our lives.  Marley (and Dickens) laments all of those overlooked moments when we could be better people.

This past week, I have been totally preoccupied with my problems.  Actually, "preoccupied" is too tame a word.  I have been obsessed with my problems.  "Obsessed" indicates the unhealthy level of my preoccupation a little more accurately.  And I've been feeling sorry for myself, which is totally unattractive.  This morning, I want to tell you about someone I got to know last weekend.

I spent a good deal of time talking to the mother of a dancer at the dance convention.  "Candie" is a girl who takes dance classes with my daughter.  Candie is home-schooled.  She's sweet and quiet and unassuming, always supportive of the other people in class.  She brings treat bags for all the students at the dance studio at Halloween and Christmas (there are well over 100 students at the studio).  Candie is just plain nice.

I always assumed Candie was home schooled for religious reasons.  Well, Candie's mom started talking to me last Saturday about Candie's health issues.  Candie suffers from severe allergies (allergies that have almost killed her on several occasions).  Candie can only eat about five different foods, and her mom said, "And she's allergic to those, too, but not as much."  Her mom paused for a moment and then said, "We don't know what we're going to do if she becomes really allergic to those foods."  At one point during our conversation, Candie came over to get a drink of water.  I noticed red welts on her calves.  I think her mom said she's allergic to her own sweat.

At the hotel, Candie couldn't go to the water park.  She's allergic to the chemicals.  She couldn't go to any restaurants for obvious reasons.  Her mom had to rent a room with a full kitchen so she could prepare Candie's meals.  Candie couldn't go to the amusement park because of the possibility of exposure to allergens, as well.

As I sat there, talking with Candie's mom, I realized how blessed I am.  My problems really aren't that big.  I have two healthy, happy kids.  I may have some struggles with bills and jobs, but my life is good.  My preoccupations are trivial.  Unimportant.  And Candie and her mom are two of the most wonderful, positive people I have ever met.

Saint Marty has to give himself a reality check every once in a while.