This headline, “A Life
so Privileged, A Death So Sordid,” ran on the front
page of The Dallas Morning News last week. The
reader was treated to the story of a young woman, described
as leading a privileged life, but whose “decomposing
body was discovered last week in the bottom of a portable
toilet in Hewitt.” This young woman, Meaghan Bosch,
had been a student at SMU. Just a week before she died,
her mother, and again I quote, “helped install a
granite countertop, new sink and backsplash with travertine
tiles in a northeast Dallas condo she and her husband
purchased for their daughter near SMU.”
The story went on to describe
Meaghan’s sad descent into a world of drugs that
ultimately killed her. And a world in sordid contrast
to that of granite countertops, travertine tiles (OK,
I didn’t know what they were either: travertine
is a type of limestone that has been used for thousands
of years in building projects; comes in many different
colors and finishes and can be pretty pricy), and a condo
in north Dallas near SMU.
I grieve for her parents and
her brother, ache for her friends. No wise person can
point to any one cause here and say, “That’s
what went wrong.” No parent who has raised children
to maturity can reasonably say, “Well, if you had
only done things my way, this never would have happened.”
Yet, somewhere we must address where possible the underlying
causes of this tragedy.
Here’s another quote
from the story. “As was her habit, the doting mother
brought an armful of new clothes for her daughter. When
they walked into the bedroom to try on the outfits, Ms.
Bosch pulled back the comforter on her bed. There a coiled
dollar bill—commonly used to snort cocaine—lay
on the sheets.”
Frankly, if I saw a coiled
dollar bill lying about, I would just wonder someone was
being so careless about money. But in this story, “The
mother and daughter looked at each other, knowing.”
They both knew. Mother knew,
daughter knew. Cocaine is an extremely expensive habit.
In my heart I’m screaming, “What on EARTH
is going on here? What WERE these parents thinking?”
Now I ask, “exactly how
privileged was this young woman’s life?” Certainly,
she had everything money could buy, a paid-for college
education—no 20 year pay out for students loans
here—a lovely condo, the latest in clothing fashions,
and plenty of funds for her illegal and ultimately life-destroying
drug habit. Is that really privilege?
Perhaps it is time to re-define
the word “privileged.” I’d like to see
it read something like this: “We live privileged
lives when, from our earliest moments, we learn that we
are special to God, that our decisions have repercussions,
that the opportunity to live with moral courage is a great
gift, and with the knowledge that when we have been given
much, we owe much.”
The best place I know to ensure
that our children do indeed enjoy the life of privilege
is to make sure they come to church, get involved in a
loving Sunday School class, and learn what it means to
worship and respect a holy and loving God. Let’s
not deny our children that privilege—that is what
it means to give our children everything they need.
