I laid in bed this morning, trying to make myself sleep in (it’s the weekend, for goodness sake...) but soon realized I went to bed too early last night so it wasn't going to happen. I couldn't stop thinking about the people in Haiti and Chili. I thought about how so many of them who were left to wander the streets after the earth stopped rumbling, would give anything to have my warm, familiar bed.
I thought about how the little things in life, like this bed I know so well, that radiates the scent of me, my hubby, a nine year old who still likes to come cuddle in the mornings, covered by the comforter I picked out myself and love to wrap up in on cold nights, is all so simple, so basic, and yet so comforting. It would be one of the biggest things I’d miss if I were rocked out of my comfortable world by a sudden earth shift.
I click on the stories as they surface on my Yahoo opening page. But I cannot linger there. I see their pain, their suffering, their endless days ahead that will be filled with uncertainty and it makes me feel guilty about the simple pleasures I will enjoy today, and tomorrow, and probably, God willing, the day after that.
I guess I'm hoping that by thinking of them, by carrying some pain in my heart for them, they will somehow sense, from a thousand miles away, that someone out there cares. A mommy, wrapped up in clean, warm, dry blankets, is thinking of them. And cares.