My daughter is home from France. After a lovely evening of walking, and seeing the fireflies, she invited me to watch a show with her. It could have been one we watched years ago, for the fun of knowing the ending, and laughing at the same lines. Or it could be one I have never seen.

"'Maid' is about someone with no support system," she told me. "It makes me realize what an incredible advantage I have with my family."

I chose that one. 

It was hard to witness how the world thrashed against this young woman, even as she gave everything she had to protect her daughter. I ached to see Alex work hard to clean extravagant houses, when there was no food in her own belly. 

Alex's mother was bipolar. So was mine. Hope knows that, though I suppose I have never told her any stories about it. Maybe I closed that door on purpose. Neither have I elaborated on the times when John and I dangled without a safety net. Our years in New Mexico were frugal, and I stood in line for government handouts. 

We watched two episodes, and I stayed awake with a swirl of thoughts. I am deeply grateful to be able to shield my daughters from that kind of fear. Alex slept on the floor of the ferry station, because she had nowhere to go. My daughter slept in an uncomfortable chair at the airport, waiting for a flight home. 

There are a bunch more episodes to see, though I think we will not hurry.

The pauses in between give me a chance to consider what I can do with my own blessings. 

"For I was hungry and you gave Me food; I was thirsty and you gave Me drink; I was a stranger and you took Me in;  I was naked and you clothed Me; I was sick and you visited Me; I was in prison and you came to Me.’ " Matthew 25