I suppose in general when friends or family call me lucky I have to assume they mean that they admire a certain quality in me (my eyes, don't they sparkle?) or about my life (great husband/kids). I MUST assume that they don't mean that I'm LUCKY in the true sense of the word. I'll give them that. But it's when more casual an acquaintance or more distant family member tells me that, or when it's used in an inappropriate situation, then I'm peeved.
Let me draw you a mental picture. With WORDS, no less (aren't you LUCKY?).
So let me use the Internet to give you the true definition of luck. Here we go, good old http://www.dictionary.com/ to the rescue. They give three lovely definitions:
1. the force that seems to operate for good or ill in a person's life, as in shaping circumstances, events, or opportunities: With my luck I'll probably get pneumonia.
2. good fortune; advantage or success, considered as the result of chance: He had no luck finding work.
3. a combination of circumstances, events, etc., operating by chance to bring good or ill to a person: She's had nothing but bad luck all year.
Seem familiar? Have you yourself used the word in a particular circumstance to really hammer home the way you felt about losing your favourite scrunchee? Good then we're on the same page.
So why does it bother me when I hear "Oh you're so LUCKY to be able to stay home with your kids! You're so LUCKY to have a doctor for a husband! You're so LUCKY to be able to fly your mother/mother in law in to visit!" and on and on... I've heard it all. But, you see, very little of the good things in my life are a result of luck. So to say I'm lucky implies that I rolled out of bed one morning, stumbled upon a doctor to marry and the rest went down in history. No no no. No. Um.... no.
You see, dear reader, I did not MARRY a doctor. I didn't even date one. I dated a lowly University undergrad student. When I was also an undergrad student. We both worked our bums off to achieve our university degrees (our experiences were even punctuated by failures, having to pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and begin again, but, I won't get into that. Or who it was that did the failing... seems an unimportant detail at this point, really). And even to get to the point of dating my husband was not luck. But let's not get into my romantical past. That's just fine where it is. The point is I married my best friend. Perhaps that was luck, that all the qualities I was looking for happened to be within the one wonderful man. So OK fine, that was DNA luck, but I'm the one that snagged him (or he me?), and that was determination.
So as the years passed (13 of them AFTER high school, ahem) we worked hard, supported each other financially and emotionally to get to where we are today. No one thinks of the late nights, the toil and work, the holidays spent working instead of relaxing with family. No. All they see is the end result, which, from an outsiders perspective, seems pretty good. Especially for me, the WIFE of the doctor. I didn't have to do anything at all, oh no. I just showed up, buffing my fingernails on my shirt and adjusting my pearl necklace.
We've both sacrificed over the years to get to this point. The doctor may have been the one going through medical school, but I was the one working in a job I disliked, paying tuition and bills, cooking and cleaning, encouraging and picking up and dropping off from classes. Oh I was no saint, let's erase any inkling of that right now. I pouted and whined when his days got too long for too many days in a row, or when he had to work December 22, 24, 26, and 28th one year, when we were across the country from our families and I spent Christmas Eve and most of Christmas Day alone. When I lost my job I leaned on him so hard it would have broken a lesser man's spirit. But he propped me up and we carried on. Like we always do.
But I must come back to my intended point here. Luck. I'm not here to wipe your face in the evidence of our hard work and determination. No. No indeed. I know full well that a lot of other people out there have worked extremely hard to where they are today, and have come away better or lesser than we have. These are the people who I give credit to and I know that if they happen to call me "lucky" it's with understanding and appreciation. Not out of jealousy or envy.
I suppose it's the people out there who I know who have SO MUCH POTENTIAL who refuse to pair that with work to get ahead in life. It's THAT group of people who not only frustrate me (I hate seeing wasted potential in the people I love, it really drives me bananas - yep, I used the term bananas to illustrate my mental state, nice eh?) but who kinda anger me when they see our lives and call it luck. It's the lack of perspective, motivation, effort that they possess that belittles our work when it's boiled down to chance. As if, given a different day or hour, we'd be living in a trailer and returning bottles and cans to make a living instead. No one says to "Luck hard at school today!" now do they?
So do I think there is any such thing as luck? Oh, I do. I think I'm lucky to have my son and my daughter, those XY and XX chromosomes were indeed by chance! I think I'm lucky when the sun shines and it gets me into a giddy-happy mood. When I find something that I thought was lost forever ("Oh my favourite scrunchee, THERE you are!") sure, that's luck. And, when it comes to my lifestyle, I suppose my appreciation of it is lucky, too, because you know that there are people out there that no matter what kind of husband, kids or house they have, they'd never be happy. And I am. Lucky me!
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