Some days I’m happy.
Some days I’m not.
Oftentimes, this depends on how much sleep I’ve gotten, or whether or not there’s any chocolate in the apartment, or if my hormones are behaving themselves.
In the midst of those “no sleep” days or “mad crazy hormonal stay-away-from-me” days, I sometimes remember that there are people in the world who don’t even have time to ask themselves if they are happy, much less pursue personal happiness.
Like war refugees. Or single moms. Or children hauled off into sex slavery. Or dads who have been laid off. Or … well… you get the picture.
So, back to my happiness.
I think, especially as an American, I’ve been brainwashed to believe that I have a basic human right to be happy: “Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”
But, this is an American promise. Not a God-given promise. And NOT a world-given promise…
Drew and I face some life-changing decisions over the next few months. And, I’ve got to be honest, our “happiness” is on the list of factors. But is that even the right question to be asking???
Sometimes, I think I contribute to others’ suffering by justifying my actions in the name of “happiness.” Justifying my new house plants. Extra time with my husband. My vacation. Wanting to move back home in Georgia. My dream of a screened in front porch… Instead of giving money to charity, helping the widows and orphans, supporting social justice, serving in an area of the country that could use some more Love and morality.
Because, there’s nothing wrong with being happy… right…?
As a human being, I’m entitled, right??
Right...?
If others, who are less fortunate, had the opportunity to have their own screened in porch, or live closer to family, they’d do that, too, right…?
Or wrong?
