reflections of a bubble girl

so, tonight i attended the casual guest lecture of a 22-year-old refugee from karen (by burma). he was separated from his family when he was 8 years old and had been moving every few weeks through the jungle to avoid being destroyed by the burmese soldiers. he hasn't seen his family for 14 years (dad & mom, brother & sister). during that time, he was going to "school," which was actually not much more than people coming into the little camp set-ups and teaching them for a few weeks before they had to leave so the government didn't get suspicious. i think he lived with his aunt and uncle at some point in there, but to make a long story short, his uncle was killed by the soldiers, and i'm not sure about the aunt.

he lived through these horrendous things, which, just hearing about them, make me flinch and cry and shake my head and swallow lumps in my throat. but his overall attitude was one of optimism -- like how fortunate he felt to have the opportunity to be here in the u.s., and he joked about how hard it is to learn better english (which, by the way, he spoke very well) because he works on an assembly line where most of the workers speak spanish. smiling: "now, i can even speak spanish un pocito!"

never let me complain again. honestly. i am so blessed to have my little bubble of a life where all i've known is safety and decency and lawfulness and where my "bad" days are ones where layla throws an unwarranted tantrum or carson talks too loud. we're all so blessed.

*stepping off my soapbox now but still reflecting on this*