The Luckiest

The phrase “I am the luckiest” takes me back to my wedding celebration, where Mark strummed away on his guitar, and Scott complemented him with a lovely rendition of the Ben Fold’s song. The song starts out:

I don't get many things right the first time
In fact, I am told that a lot
Now I know all the wrong turns, the stumbles and falls
Brought me here

As I stroll around Paris, flowers blooming, birds chirping, I can’t help but feel that I connect even more with that song than when Scott suggested it as a possibility for our ceremony. In many ways the timing of the song was quite symbolic, as it was during this song that my dad walked me down the aisle to Matt (never mind that we were already married). Now, there was no “first time” (and least not with someone else), but there had been the possibilities of such commitment. Those stumbles and falls are critical, however, or you never know how lucky you truly are. You aren’t capable of feeling grateful.

As I sat preparing African food on Friday with some of the young ladies from Enfants du Monde, we had little ability to chat, due to the language barrier. When I would throw a word out to see what reaction I would get, “Obama” was quite a hit. With my terrible French I went on to tell them about Madame Obama and her deux filles. From there we went onto Rihanna and Jay-Z, with the mention of New York City causing wide eyes and much excitement. After this “connection” was made, the use of "thank you" was frequent, as it was their effort to connect to me, my culture and my language (one that I keep forgetting is paradise for most of the world). But it was one of the young men whom I sat next to as we ate who explained to me that the rice, root vegetables and beef that the girls worked so hard to prepare (slicing in ways that caused much alarm to this nervous Nellie) were what was cooked daily back home. He used the wording, “we eat to survive.” (This said to me after he explained that his journey to Paris was in the hold of a boat for a month -- no birds, no flowers, no sun).

As if I wasn’t feeling fortunate and yet sad enough, I moved onto a conversation with a young Afghan man who was asking about Matt. When I told him Matt was a lawyer (which he pronounced "liar"), he told me that he knew that all American liars make lots of money. I tried to explain that there were many types, and that because he is the only one working for both of us, we don’t have lots of money. His response was, “So you just eat and live, like all of us here.” That to me was quite poignant, and definitely struck a nerve. In many ways we are “just eating and living” here, as our material frills are few and far between (at least to what we were accustomed to). But the major difference between those children and me, regardless of how needy I may feel, is that I have love. These youngsters are with out that, and I can’t imagine how awful that feeling is.

As I think about how I will never know the hardships that these children must face, I do know that hope is something that we all have in common. The best thing is that love is free, so whether you are a high-paid liar or find yourself sleeping on a cot in a room with four others, with nothing to your name, you too are able to one day be “the luckiest.” That is certainly a reason to keep going, and for me, a constant reminder that it is not how much you have, but who you have.

I live in Paris with my soul mate (and together we are determining our values, dreams and needs). I have friends and family that love me unconditionally, even thought they may be an ocean away. My inability to work causes me to reflect and analyze a lot -- a gift that many people will never have. My stumbles and falls have indeed brought me here for a reason; to remind me that I am the luckiest. Not a bad thing to be.