I have grown up with a lot of privileges. Many times I was unaware of how privileged I have been. I just took it for granted that I had an intact family with parents who were loving and generous and very present in the lives of their children. My father never experienced unemployment. We always had enough food in our home and always had new clothes when we needed them. We had time for play and lots of adventures. there were occasional vacations and a number of opportunities for travel.

I don’t know exactly what age I was when I became aware that there were others who didn’t share our privilege, but it was definitely in my childhood. When I was ten our family participated in a program called “friendly town” and hosted children from inner city Chicago who came and stayed in our home for a week so that we could get to know them and they could experience our lives. The children who stayed with us had known hunger and had learned to hoard food. That surprised us. The next year we hosted a family and got to know adults as well. I remember that the mother couldn’t understand our summer camping lifestyle. “If you can afford to live in a house with modern appliances and luxuries why do you spend your summers cooking around a campfire?” It made no sense to her. I, as a kid, couldn’t understand her perspective at all. I loved getting away from our school year lifestyle in the summer.

Growing up in country that in earlier years had been part of the original Crow Reservation, we knew quite a few of our native neighbors. We visited regularly in reservation homes and I knew that the luxuries of space and modern conveniences and reliable transportation were not afforded to all of the people in our state.

One of the great privileges of my life was the encouragement and support of education in our family. I had jobs from the very beginning of my college career, but never had to work so many hours that it interfered with my education. There was no question of the support of my family for my education and I received financial support all the way through graduate school. The privilege worked in a couple of different directions. I think my parents had very good instincts about this. I never had excess during my university years. There were times when we were just scraping by. We did borrow some of the money for our tuition and fees and graduated with a modest debt that took about five years to repay. But I always knew that there would be support if there were an actual emergency. I knew where to turn if I were to be in trouble. There was privilege in knowing of my parents’ support, but there also was a blessing in their choice not to give too much. They understood the need for me to have to work hard and to learn to live with limited resources.

Other privileges were more subtle and harder to recognize. I was never the victim of discrimination because of the color of my skin. I was never excluded or ostracized because of my accent. I’ve never failed to be hired for a job or been denied housing because of overt racism. I have never received lower wages than my peers because of my gender.

Call it an accident of birth or the luck of the draw or whatever you might like, but when people speak of white privilege in the United States, I’m pretty much the beneficiary of that privilege. It isn’t something that I caused to happen. It isn’t something that I earned. It isn’t something that I somehow deserve more than others. It is just who I am. It is how I was born and how I was raised.

I have no need to pretend that I am other than I am. I do, however, feel an obligation to share what I have with others and to be a carefully listening participant when conversations turn to injustice and racism and sexism. I have tried to avoid whining and complaining when things don’t go the way I want them to go. I have tried to be gracious and quick to support others in their aspirations and efforts.

The results so far have been a joyous life. Growing up in a strong family, I had good models for successful marriage and was fortunate in discovering my made early in my life. There has been much joy in my experience of family raising children and becoming a grandfather. I have had a career path that did not lead me to the accumulation of wealth, but rather a path of service that has been meaningful and rewarded me with experiences that are worth more than money. I don’t seem to have the need to be the biggest or best or most powerful and am comfortable with others climbing the ladder while I seek a path of service. I have a safe and warm home in which to sleep and food to sustain my life. In fact I’ve struggled with a tendency to eat too much for most of my adult life.

Living with an abundance of joy, however, has not isolated me from other experiences. I’ve know compassion for those who are less fortunate in their lives. I’ve been blessed to form friendships with people whose lives are very different from mine. I’ve walked the journey of loss and divorce and family reconfiguration with the people I have served. I have formed partnerships and engaged in sacred conversations on race with people who grew up without privilege. I am aware of the pain and injustice that are a part of this world and I have been given a few opportunities to participate in making changes.

There is much that remains to be done, however. There is more sharing that is needed. There are more injustices that need to be addressed.

This I know, however: The solution doesn’t come from me denying who I am or pretending to be what I am not. My role in this life is to be myself and be open to encountering others who are also free to be themselves.

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