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I went to my children's concert one night not long ago.

As I sat in the audience, feeling like a good (yet harried) mother, I remembered back a few years ago, to a similar night. I was in a rush (surprise!). My kids' spring concert was that night, and I was thinking about what they might wear to the concert, eat for supper, when they'd get their homework done, etc.

I screeched into a convenience store to buy some quick-fix dinner things. The woman behind the counter was a young mom I'd run into at the school on occasion. She smiled at me and said, wistfully, "You're probably going to the concert tonight, huh?"

I replied that I was, and I asked her the same question. She sighed, and said, "No. I have to work until 11." She added, "It's my oldest boy's first concert."

Then she shrugged, and said, "But it's OK. I'm really lucky. I got someone to tape it for me."

Ooof.

TRUTH AND FEAR
That conversation has forever stayed in my heart. How dare I complain about being busy, complain about having to rush, when I get to be there — when I always have gotten to be there?

I may have had some stressful jobs (like who hasn't?), and sometimes I've had to make somewhat hard choices. But I have never had to make the really tough choices, the choices between that eternal rock and that infinite hard place.

I think of the moms and dads who choose every day between their children's food and gas in the car. I think of the parents who must decide whether to pay the rent or buy a kid's winter coat. I think of the mom who chooses a lesser baby sitter, out of desperation, because she knows if she misses one more day, she'll be fired. And that same mom has no spouse to turn to for a paycheck, much less for backup.

I believe in priorities, and I believe in choices and hard work. I believe in adversity making us stronger and God using our challenges to make us grow. But deep in my heart, way down deep where truth and fear live, I find I also believe in plain dumb luck and tragedy and mind-numbing obstacles and lousy genes. And when I face that reality, my self-righteous, smug side melts away for the moment, and the only thing I can feel is gratitude for where I am, for where I've always been.

ALL GOOD PARENTS
Consider this. While all of us "good parents" are sitting in auditoriums across the state — watching our children sing, play, graduate; sitting through tiresome speakers and endless names, trying to keep our squirming children still and our squirmier spouses happy — there are many more good parents who would kill to be in our shoes, who would consider it a miracle to watch their child in a proud moment or a rite of passage. Those parents might be working, might be in a hospital; they might be separated from their child by death or wrong choices, but guess what?

They'd give anything to feel our hurry, our stress. They'd give anything just to be there.

Mary White is from the Malone area. She and her husband have five children, eight cats, two dogs and three guinea pigs. She has had the privilege of working with children and families (her own and other people's) for more than 20 years.