We’ve all heard it said that life isn’t fair. It’s a quip we make when some minor inconvenience mucks up our day or keeps us from getting our own way. For most of us here on the net, life has probably than kinder than we acknowledge on a day-to-day basis. I have a roof over my head. Every time the wind blows I hold my breath at it’s creakings, and when it rains I walk the rooms checking for leaks — but so far it’s still a roof. I am able to eat whenever I please and pretty much whatever I please. I drive a nice, fairly new car. My bills are paid — mostly. There’s one here from the power company I am a little afraid to open.
Sure I have a few horrible instances in my past that I can point at and say, “Foul!” My mom died when I was a baby. I had a step-mom that made Cinderella’s look kind. There seems to be little fairness there, but today I saw reason to be thankful for the truly minor unfairnesses in my life.
At church tonight I held a five week old baby in my arms who weighs less than ten pounds. She is in foster care. Her birth mother has never seen her. The state welfare division is currently striving to get one of the two men who could possibly be her father to take financial responsibility. This child is literally of no value to the people who created her.
I held this baby and rocked her and talked to her while her foster mother ate. The baby’s big brown eyes focused on my face without wavering. She did not smile. She did not blink. She did not wiggle. If I stopped moving and talking she would whimper, other than that she was unresponsive — like holding a hard, plastic doll in my arms. There was no softness to her. No bend. No cuddle. Could she talk, this child would have the right to claim that life isn’t fair. The only heritage her parents gave her willingly, was their addiction to methamphetamines.