Catching Idle Butterflies

I write this on a full stomach

WARNING! Tread softly, ladies and gentlemen. Brain vomit up ahead!

Am I a cold-hearted [censored]?

I ask this because I received an email containing graphic images of starving children along with a message stating to count our blessings and to give to relief agencies, and my response was more angry than sympathetic.

I admit I take my life for granted. My biggest complaint is how my pants keep getting smaller (I like to think that, anyway). Yet I don’t deny millions of starving people would give anything to have that problem.

What bothers me most is how this email, from my perspective, shoved in my face the blessings I have, and how the only point of adding a half dozen photos of walking skeletons wrapped in paper-thin skin is to guilt me into doing something about others who have little to no hope of surviving another day.

Does that make me uncaring? Do I enjoy my bliss, choosing to be ignorant of the horrendous evils in this world, and so many are suffering and dying while I scarf my every full plate to the point I hurt myself?

I admit I don’t give enough. I have no problem running to the store and buying the things I want yet don’t need, and often enough I should probably be embarrassed. Certainly that money could be put to better use.

I’m happy to give to worthy causes, generously even should the spirit move me. Just don’t attempt to force me into giving out of guilt. That only switches on my cynical edge and makes me more likely to turn away.