I was checking out an Internet news site the other day and the headline story was about a massacre in the Philippines - at least 46 people dead. As I read, I tried to imagine living in a place where that sort of thing happened. The article was well-written and descriptive, yet I don't think I can truly fathom that life. The same thing happens to me when I read about war and hunger. I can empathize but I doubt that I fully understand. I've got a lot of the facts and I can guess at some of the emotions but I know there must be so much more that I don't know. It's like listening to an astronaut describe weightlessness - you probably need to experience it.
As we go along, we experience new things and thus our understanding grows. Before I had children, if I saw a young couple that was expecting a baby, I thought, "I'll bet they're excited." Now, I understand that "excited" only begins to describe the multitude of emotions that swirl around that event. And I know having children has greatly enhanced my understanding of love and devotion. I've also had some bad experiences, horrible experiences, that have deepend my understanding of pain and loss and fear. I know that when I read an account of a parent losing a child, it likely strikes a different chord than it does with someone who has not suffered that loss. Each of us has our own unique experiences and understanding that makes us who we are. I think this uniqeness is often the cause of us inadvertently hurting one another - one person's funny is another person's offensive or insensitive.
As Thanksgiving approaches, I feel a little ashamed and selfish to admit that I'm grateful that I and the people I love don't fully understand living with war or hunger. I pray that one day all the world will be so ignorant.
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