I don’t know about you but I absolutely hated the word “fair” when I was raising four little humans.
What seemed like a good idea when training them to share toys was soon turned into a weapon whereby they would shout, “But Mama! That’s not FAIR!!!”
Someone was going to get the last piece of cake or pizza or a tiny bit larger slice of pie. Someone needed shoes this payday but not everyone needed shoes. My daughter required certain items for her dance class, the boys didn’t need a thing.
To kids, “fair” meant even-exactly, precisely, even division of time, talent, money and attention.
But if I tried to turn the tables and suggest that it was one child’s turn to empty the bathroom garbage because another child did it last time, suddenly “fair” wasn’t such a great idea.
Because even young sinful hearts learn that making everything exactly even isn’t really what we want.
What we want is for the fates (and God! and Mama!) to favor US.
We want the bigger piece, we want to be excused from duty when it’s inconvenient or uncomfortable. We want, above all, not to suffer-even if the suffering is really not very painful.
As hard as it was to explain that life is. not. fair. to my young children, it has been harder still to explain it to my own heart in the wake of burying Dominic.
What IS fair?
Is it fair that my son shouldn’t die when the laws of physics kicked in as he left the road in a curve?
What about when those same laws mean another son lives?
Is it fair that my children were born in a land not decimated by war or famine-every one born by C-section in clean hospitals with adequate staffing and appropriate facilities?
No, life isn’t fair.
We live in a world marred by sin. It’s a broken world where sometimes people make foolish choices, sinful choices or simply reckless choices.
It’s a world in which disease ravages bodies-young and old-and hearts stop.
I will mourn what I’ve lost. I will weep for what I will never have.
But I will not whine about things not being fair.
I had nearly 24 years with Dominic. Not as many as I expected nor as many as I wanted. His life ended too soon from my perspective regardless of whatever Bible verse someone uses to explain it differently.
He was a gift. And though he is now gone from my sight, I will see him again.
Until then, I will work hard at being thankful and not resentful. One attitude brings life and the other only death.
I’ve had enough death.
I choose life.