I met with one of my homeless clients today.
As I pulled up to the shelter I noticed her eyeing my car with appreciation. After greeting me, she said that she bet I had a nice house, too and how lucky I was.
And pride, that bitter lady, rose in my throat as I became defensive, wanting to assuage my guilt about having nice things by explaining myself. I wanted to tell her that luck had no part in it, that I'd worked hard for everything I had.
However, one look at the lines in her face and her sore, gnarled hands told me that she'd worked every bit as hard as me in this life, though perhaps without the advantages I've had.
So I took a grateful breath and simply replied "Indeed. I am so very lucky".