blessed beyond(?)

I’ve decided to take a break from my current theme of ranting about my neighborhood.  Perhaps I’m beating a dead horse with that subject matter…….  Today’s entry is on a different note: blessing.

I read it a lot.

Blessed beyond measure.

Blessed beyond belief.

Blessed, blessed, blessed.

When you search Twitter hashtags, everyone from Lindsay Lohan to Bubba Watson to Justin Bieber to Oscar De La Hoya have quite recently included #blessed in their statuses.  Plus a whole gaggle of ordinary folks I don’t recognize.

I asked my friend over lunch this week a few questions on the subject of “being blessed.”

Am I blessed because I have a husband and two kids?  Is she unblessed because she does not?

Are the two of us (my friend and I) blessed because we live in the USA, have enough food to eat, and jobs to report to five days a week?

Is my family blessed because my son is going to college next year on scholarships, provided to him because of academic and musical success? 

Getting to the questions…..  Sure I have a husband and I’m completely thankful to be his wife.  I love him beyond comprehension.  Yet at times I’d like to scream at him “You’re an ASSHOLE!”  Does that alter the blessing?  Does that mean he’s not blessed with a good wife during those brief moments of tirade?  Why do those who desire a spouse but have yet to acquire one struggle?  Why can’t there be a mate for everyone in what seems to be a sensible time? 

Are we, citizens of the United States of America more blessed than the folks that reside in Cambodia?  And if so, why?  Why were we chosen to be placed here and not there and vice versa?

My son has worked extremely hard.  He practices guitar more than I’ve ever known a teenager to practice a musical instrument.  He has studied and chosen to be a good student.  Sure, to a certain extent he inherited musical genes and has an intelligent father who was accepted into the academically prestigious United States Naval Academy.  I will not go into details regarding my academic prowess or lack there of…..  Do you get what I’m saying?  To an extent, my son’s success is not a surprise.  He was placed in a family which supported him and his endeavors and consists of members who themselves were from families who had supported their endeavors.

Anyhow, what I’m getting at is this.  Is life a math problem of sorts?

A + B = C, meaning you get what you put in?  A factual philosophy.  Work hard and you’ll be rewarded.  Squander and you’ll end up in need.  Are we victims of circumstance or results of God’s plan, an out of our control agenda put into place before eternity began?

Or is life based on a strange hierarchy of blessing?  Some of us get more than others.  Simply because that’s how it goes.  A “That’s life, that’s what people say,” Frank Sinatra type song.

Some of us get spouses.  Some of us get spouses who send flowers.  Some of us get spouses who do laundry and like the same sports teams we do.  Some of us get spouses that beat us up.  Some of us get spouses who don’t stick around.  And some of us don’t get a spouse or at least not on our time table.

People with good grades are more likely to end up with a mental illness than those who do not.  Check out this article:    Straight-A Schoolchildren at Higher Risk of Bipolar Disorder.   Creative people, let’s consider Vincent van Gogh who famously committed suicide, are more likely to suffer with mental issues.  So are the intelligent and creative blessed with talent?  If so, where does the struggle fit in?  I doubt we could reason mental illness equals blessings.

Is the person who was healed of cancer as blessed as the person who never got it at all? 

We like to nicely put on adages.  Better to have _________ than to never have _______ at all.  Or we tell people to look on the bright side.  We want to help others see the silver lining as opposed to the mess.

Look for the blessing.  Blessings in disguise. 

I’m having a hard time making sense of it.  Sure, I can count my blessings.  But it’s hard to comprehend exactly where they came from.

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