Here’s a little something I’ve been thinking about for a while and I finally took the time to write it out. I would love to hear your response! I should note that the people I refer to in this entry have been disguised. . .if you think you know who I’m talking about, trust me, you don’t!
My daughters have a sweet little friend from school named Sarah (not her real name). She’s a beautiful girl with bright blue eyes and an infectious smile. Bryn and Lydia talk about her non-stop:
Sarah has the coolest bookbag. Sarah gets to have her own computer at home. Sarah lives in an apartment with lots of neighbors. Sarah has a huge jungle gym in her back yard. Sarah gets to live with her grandma and grandpa. Mommy you should see all of Sarah’s Barbies!
One day after Bryn listed off all of Sarah’s many enviable advantages, she capped it off by saying, “Oh Mommy, I just wish I could be Sarah.”
My heart stopped. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Oh Bryn, honey, if only you knew the whole story. . .
What they don’t know about Sarah is that she is living with her grandparents because her own parents are a mess. Sarah has witnessed evil in it rawest form. Her eyes have seen things that no child should ever see, her body has been subjected to abuse and her spirit to neglect. Sarah is 8 years old, yet she has experienced the depravity of humanity beyond what any human ever should. And my girls envy her.
And then reality hit me: I do the very same thing. Oh, it looks a little different because I’m 33 years old and they are 8. I’m not envious of anybody’s jungle gym or Barbie dolls. No, mine looks a little more like this:
“Wow, four kids and a flat belly. Must be nice.”
“Granite coutertops. Hmmpphh.”
“What a beautiful designer handbag. If only. . .”
But just like in my daughters’ case, I don’t know the whole story. Sure, she might be beautiful, but what burden does she carry with her? Sure, her house might look like something out of a magazine, but what nightmare keeps her from sleeping at night?
I have a dear friend who, from the outside, seems to have it all: a good job, a loving husband, a great figure, a designer handbag. If she was a stranger to me, and if I only observed her from a distance, I might find myself envious. But because I know her well, I know that she has struggled with infertility. And not just a little bit. She has lost 5 babies. Oh, the heartache!
Or another friend, a young bride, who is so haunted by her abusive past that she can barely function on an everyday level. But she’s the life of the party everywhere she goes. Her contagious laugh and merry personality are simply a cover up to pain so deep she doesn’t know where to begin dealing with it. And she just confessed to me that her marriage is a wreck and they don’t think they’re gonna make it. No one would ever guess the reality that she lives with. Envy? No way.
I don’t know the burdens people carry, I only see the masks they put on each morning. I don’t see the agony of grief in their darkest hour, I only see the cheery hello on a Sunday morning. And I don’t know what they say to themselves when they look in the mirror every morning, I only see the professional suit and high heels.
God forbid I allow my heart to envy. God forbid I allow myself to long after someone’s mask.
I’ve got to get a grip on this in my own heart before I stand a chance at passing it along to my daughters. And I want them to get it, I really do.
Well said.
That’s amazing Vicki, I never thought of it like that. But so true.
Oh Vicki, I am so glad you posted this so that I could read it. You write so beautifully and the words speak to my heart. I have been guilty of the very same sort or thoughts – and I think I even go one better – envying other bloggers who seem to be doing so much more than I could possibly every imagine.
I want so much to learn contentment and have a truly grateful heart.
This was just wonderful.