The Bubble

This week, the Teenager is away on a church mission trip to another state, where the group appears to be working on home repairs.  I've talked to her once, and I've seen her in a photo on Facebook.  I also know she bought ice cream on Sunday, because I checked on her teen checking account debit card balance (yes, the Mom of No was spying!).

I hope that she is having a good time. I hope that she's practicing ladder safety, and wearing her work gloves and safety goggles when appropriate. I hope that she's learning some useful skills, like how to repair drywall, paint the exterior of a house, or replace flooring.  I hope that she's growing spiritually, and learning some new things about herself and her faith.  I hope she's eating more than ice cream, and drinking enough water.

I'm also hoping that she's realizing that she lives in a bubble.

We live in an area where it is the norm for people to have big houses, nice cars, and attend good schools.  People talk about going to Europe on vacation, or cruises to the Caribbean on spring break.  We have plenty of restaurants to choose from, because people like to go out to eat.  The grocery stores are always fully stocked with fresh fruit and vegetables.  You can walk down the street with a realistic expectation that you will be safe, and we have great parks and community pools, so kids can go outside and play.

We also live in an area where people are struggling to survive, but that isn't as easy to see.  A few years ago, I was on a committee charged with developing a vision for our local school district (it was much more exciting than it sounds).  During a workshop, I found out that our community has homeless teenagers.  Quite a few of them, in fact.  I probably should have known that, but I didn't.  I was in a bubble.  

I've travelled around a bit, and I know very well that I am more fortunate than most, but when you live in a bubble in which everyone is at least projecting the appearance of affluence, that affluence is your reality.  If your friends are going on cruises to the Bahamas, then getting to drive a few hours to see Grandpa and go to his beach doesn't seem that impressive in comparison.  Never mind that there are many people out there who can't afford to go anywhere on summer break because they can't take the time off work, or they don't have a car that can drive that far.

It can be a challenge to get my offspring to realize that, while they are not nearly as fortunate as some, they are more fortunate than many.  They are both healthy. When they get sick, they go to the doctor.  They live in a decent house (although not a very big one) with electricity.  No one has to hike three miles to get water out of a well or a creek; the clean water comes to us, which puts us ahead of much of the world right there.  They can attend school through 12th grade.  They get three meals a day, although they may not always like what's on offer.

However, some of that bubble whining has started to creep in.  Even when you're being told that you have it good compared to many others, it's hard to own that when you're surrounded by people who appear to have much more than you.  I can't even blame it on youth; I have to remind myself of that sometimes and I'm no whippersnapper. When you tell your offspring, "people don't always get what they want, so suck it up", the perception that they're the only ones sucking it up affects your credibility.

I respect the teenager for her willingness to take a week of her very short summer and spend it doing hard labor. As she approaches adulthood, I am also really hoping that the teenager comes back with a new appreciation of what she has, and a true understanding of how so many other people are struggling and surviving on much less.  If that happens, it will truly be a week well spent.