We throw around the term, “first world problem” pretty flippantly. It flies off the tongue with little or no significance to its true meaning. We don’t mean too. Rush hour traffic, numbers on a weight scale, frustrations with the service industry, inadequate cellphone bars, or backed up toilets; daily potholes in the road, tiny little irritations to our day, taking up time when we’d rather be elsewhere. Sometimes we let them get to us. Sometimes we react. Sometimes we waste energy carrying around guilt for not managing the day to day with more grace.
Still we say it …. “first world problem” … maybe with a teasing laugh, an eye roll, or unintentionally devoid of heartfelt meaning.
I fell into a world that knocked me flat.
I met beautiful people. Built eternal relationships. Faced impossible situations. Mastered massive emotions. Explored inner conflicts. Witnessed true joy.
Still, I got knocked.
Hard enough to walk away time and again from a blank page canvas waiting for just the right written words.
Hard enough to wonder if there were any words.
Hard enough to question if it mattered.
Hard enough to fathom what does.
I’ve struggled to look at any of the pictures from my journey. Unsure my heart can handle the words of a young girl, “Please …. Don’t forget who I am.” Certain I will break at the memory of where I held a precious hand, laughed a good laugh, shared a hard story and wiped away tears. I’ve wrestled with the importance of everything my little life on this gigantic planet is. I’ve questioned all that I do.
I don’t know.
Is this important?
But somewhere, somehow, some way, I need to solidify a moment where these that I wrapped in my heart, were seen, heard, felt, loved and above all in my eyes …. significant.