Christmas Eve, 2013
It is 9;30, and I’m
sitting in our living room, surrounded by the warmth of Patience’s Christmas
décor, our lovely tree, and the sound of Christmas music coming from my
computer. The room is still, and
there is nothing than can add to the elegance and solitude of the moment. I am lost in the memories of Christmas
Eves past, my parents, my children, and the wonderful sadness tit all bring to
me
But there is more. The one thought that intrudes on all of
this is how fortunate I am to be where I am, and to have all that I have. I am a wealthy man. I am healthy. I have a loving wife and family. I have caring friends, I have a warm and comfortable
home. I have food to eat. I have meaningful work. And I have hope and purpose. What more can anyone ask for? More things? A bigger house? More social statue? I don’t think so.
And I ask myself,
why? Why me? What did I do to deserve this life of
mine? I did not get to choose my
parents, or the culture in which I was reared. I did not get to choose my aptitudes, my personality, and
whatever gifts and talents I may have.
I had no major obstacles to overcome in my life. I simply did what seemed to be the
thing to do I worked hard, but no
harder than many others. There is
now way that I can take credit for my life, because I was never faced with a
choice to do or be other than what I am.
Even when it came to the difficult choice between medicine and art, I
felt I was only following what was intended for me.
There are many who have
more than I do, and probably even more who have much less. It is my unwavering conviction that
with few exceptions, their fates were predetermined by circumstances – parents,
families, genes, and fate. It is
too easy to take more credit than is deserved for our successes, and to blame the
less fortunate for their misfortunes.
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