Sr. Wantabee cried today. She received news this morning as she headed off to the hospital that a young family she’s involved with miscarried again. Unfair her heart cried. Her first patient at the hospital was a young girl going in for a regular, routine, small surgery but chatted a bit. She was the child of a cross cultural adoption, of similar faith, and had informed her parents that morning of her small surgery. It was a nice time of prayer. Sr. Wantabee read the records and discovered that the patient too was the struggling with complications of a miscarriage. Unfair. The next gentleman was lying on an airbed, paralyzed from the airpits down. Having debated with the water department for years about the sewer cap near his house that always came off, the cap not being fixed, he had gone out to put it back in place a couple years back. The pipe blew as he did it, sending him forty feet in the air and crashing to paralysis. Public services is us and you cannot sue yourself and so insurance had eaten up all his retirement and assets. Unfair. Sr. Wantabee cried. Life is unfair. Then she remembered the many times she had responded to her kids when they complained about something not being fair, “That’s right, life is not fair.” The unfairnesses of life are like that pig in the slop with the prodigal son. What do we do with the bitterness and disappointment? Can we “come to ourselves” and return to the creator or do we sit in our grump? It’s a good question.