My Corner of the World

My corner of the world is a comfortable one. The inside of my home is a safe haven, where no one wants for much. The people and animals who live here are always well-fed, and kept healthy. The water here is safe to drink, and we are lucky enough to be able to afford any necessary medications. Perhaps even more importantly, every living being is showered with love and attention. It truly is a beautiful place, and I carry more gratitude for that than I could ever express.

My intention here is not to brag about how fortunate I have become over the last few years. Rather, I intend to point out the one glaring issue that makes all of this seem inconsequential. The problem is, I have internet. I have the ability to see beyond my and my neighbors' spacious yards to the interiors of overflowing animal shelters. I see kids in our country who can't read because their parents couldn't teach what they didn't know. I see war-torn villages overseas where people die daily for lack of basic necessities. Worst of all, I see people I know to be kind-hearted ignoring it. Maybe that's how they cope.

These are the stories that are being told. I'm left to speculate those that aren't. My heart breaks every time I open a new tab in my browser, it seems, but I feel helpless to do anything about it. I try. I have five rescued animals of my own now. I'm going to be foster mama to another furbaby soon. Still, I can't help but constantly consider how I could accommodate more.

Lately, I've been donating my web design skills to any non-profit who could use them. I've taken on no less than seven projects in the last couple weeks alone, and I'm still spending the majority of the time twiddling my thumbs waiting for someone - anyone - to get back to me. It's not that I'm impatient. I know how incredibly overwhelmed they all are with their work, and I just wish I could be doing more to help. I want to get my hands dirty, but I'm too far removed to reach.

I don't have my own transportation right now. I can't drive to where the help is needed, and it's no longer within walking distance. It makes me feel useless, and guilty about what I have. It makes me wonder whether I have some kind of martyr complex, or if most people feel this way.

It's not what you see portrayed in the media, at least. I see celebrities with sprawling mansions they only live in part-time. I wonder if those places are empty when they're not in them. What do they do with all that space? Is it like the castles of yesteryear where the whole extended family and all of the employees would come move in? Or do they just listen to the echo of their footsteps through the main area while the rest of the building is slowly buried under dust?

All I know is that if I don't do my part to spread the comfort of my corner to others, I won't be able to enjoy it myself.