Why can't we all be normal?

I grew up having a fairly normal life. That is, I had a rather normal, nuclear family. Although it was blended with half-siblings, we felt and operated like a family. I was the youngest of five with a nineteen year span between me and the oldest so I didn't know any different. There may have been rough times in prior years but it felt normal to me and I always thought this is what a family was supposed to feel like. My parents loved each other and were still together (still are, praise the Lord!) and they had regular jobs. Neither of them were in and out of prison nor had any trouble with the law. Our family always had a decent meal to eat and adequate clothing and shelter.

Ever since I was a little kid, I noticed the kids who didn't have a normal family like me. Some of them, many of them actually, were my best friends. They never talked about their situation or lamented the fact that they live with their mom and visit their dad on weekends. It never seemed to bother Chris that when his mom remarried he and his brother changed their last names from Rice to Chamberlain. Karen didn't complain that she and her sister lived in two different foster homes while her dad was in jail. Aaron didn't get upset at his family situation when we couldn't hang out on the weekend because he had to go visit his dad. Jen merely rolled her eyes at the fact that her parents seemingly hated each other. I didn't treat them any different but I wondered what they thought about their families and growing up without a traditional, nuclear family unit. I wondered what they thought about their dad being an alcoholic, having bedrooms in two different houses, or not having the privilege of sharing a meal or a trip to the store with both parents at the same time.

What stirs both anger and compassion in me is the fact that kids enslaved in these realities had neither the option of choosing the structure of their existence nor the power to improve it. They are pawns in the system of unfairness and innocent victims of the sins of society.

I look at my seven-year old and get tears in my eyes at the thought of him having to struggle with the hardships that other kids face. I couldn't imagine him having to live out his youth being shipped off to dad's house every other weekend or live in a blended family where his half-siblings are favored and he has to sleep in the basement and wear ratty, second-hand clothes. I couldn't imagine my two-year-old daughter growing up in an orphanage not knowing what it's like to enjoy a mother brushing her hair or hold daddy's hand as they walk down the street. I wish every child could feel and experience the love of a family and I hope God will grant me many years to walk through life with my children with my wonderful wife by my side.