Trailer Trash

Oh how I hate that term. "Trailer trash"...yet I hear it so often in reference to someone who is...well, how should I put it. Tacky? Uncultured? I think we all know the example. Well, here's the thing. As much as I cringe when I hear people use that term...I have recently found that I have my own lingering judgments regarding those who are "less fortunate" than me.

Case in point. I have become one of the residents of a mobile home park. This is not new for me, we lived in a mobile home park before. What is new for me is living in a somewhat "rundown" mobile home park. By that I mean, many of the homes are made of vinyl or metal, which tends to look a bit shabby after mold and moss begin to grow on the sides.
There are a few other RVs in this park which also appear to have seen better days. We actually drove through here when looking for a place to park our RV before moving here to Washington. I quickly deemed it an unacceptable place for us to live. Why you ask? Well, because I am NOT trailer trash! (I didn't say that out loud, but I realize now that I surely thought it. Ugh.)

Isn't it funny that here I am? And after a run in with wind, where the wind won, I am so thankful to be here. Perhaps this is the very place I needed to be, in order to gain some much needed perspective.

Today, as I was mixing myself a coconut martini after spending the day flat on my back, in my pajamas, full of ibuprofen and trying to cope with back spasms and pain, I had a moment. A moment where I really looked at myself, and dared to look into my heart, and what did I find? The judgment that had been there all along was coming right back at me. As I shook my drink, (which was recommended by my dear hubby who has to work late and hates to think of me here suffering)...I realized how ridiculously funny this is.  I had to laugh, knowing how I must look to any observer...going out with my dog all day in my pajamas, now mixing a drink in the afternoon. I most certainly do look like trailer trash!

I guess I felt compelled to share my experience, with hopes that all of us would stop and think a minute before we so easily spew out ugly labels. Every single person is a child of God. Every single person has a story. Every single life has value. Whether we live under a bridge, or in a trailer, or in a mansion, we have more in common with one another than we have differences.

Oh look, the sun just broke through the clouds on this rainy afternoon. And you know what? This place really doesn't look that bad. When my back is better, I plan to get outside and meet some of my neighbors.