Some Perspective

The sister missionaries called and asked if I could help them by giving one of their investigators a ride this morning. They explained that the family had recently been in a car accident in which their only vehicle was totaled and the wife needed to get to a clinic for a shot. As I drove, she explained that she was going for her daily dose of Methadone, an opioid medication that helps reduce withdrawal symptoms in people addicted to heroin or other narcotics. She's trying to get clean in order to keep her family together. She was so grateful I could give her a lift, as riding the bus takes over three hours. When I asked about the prospects for replacing their car, she said she didn't know since they don't have auto insurance and she wasn't sure if the other guy did, and either way it had been four days since the accident and she hadn't followed up on the police report or called any insurance companies. She had no idea that she needed to do something to get that ball rolling. As I dropped her off at her tiny little home, the whole of which could probably fit in my master bedroom, I was flooded with so many thoughts and emotions. I fret about finding the time to ride my thousand dollar bicycle because I'm so busy doing load after load of laundry, cleaning my four full bathrooms, and planning which ingredients out of my fridge full of food I'm going to use to make a nutritious home cooked meal. The chores that fill my days with comfort and ease might as well be a dream to the woman who's constant daily goal is to make it to the clinic to get her dose, proving to the government she's capable of keeping her children. I don't know why some people are born into poverty, get caught up in drugs, and may never find their way out, and I was born into relative wealth, education, and the Gospel. It makes me want to do something truly good with my life in hopes of somehow proving to Heavenly Father how deeply grateful I am.