The opening line of Disney’s The Lion King is one hard to forget.

“Life’s not fair, is it? You see I, well, I will never be king,” muses a sulking Scar as he paces about his lair.

Unforgettable as we seem to say it often ourselves, do we not?

At eight years old I expressed (on more than one occasion) detest for this scene as the lion toyed with a mouse’s fate while complaining of his own misfortunes. A rather cruel way to start a musical animation when, after all, Disney was supposed to make the seemingly harsh realities of my young life disappear for a couple of hours while I got lost in a movie.

Driving to work today I was forced to take an alternate route through the city due to road blockades and protesters. Not uncommon for Santa Cruz so I was particularly undisturbed by taking the slower streets through the city’s center.

As I neared the institute where I teach English, I became jammed in the median at a red light between two cross streets. Also not uncommon in the city.

I caught glimpse of a sweet little girl running alongside a tree not five feet away from me. She met her father, I’m assuming, on the other side and as I turned on the green light I watched him help the girl lower her pants to relieve herself on the tree.

She peed right there. IN THE STREET. In the middle of the city, for all to see, without, I’m sure, thinking any better of it. She must have been only three years old.

Annoyed by the indecency of her parental figure to give her some privacy and respect by taking her to a bathroom and teaching her otherwise, I continued on for a mere block before stopping at the next light at a busy roundabout.

Pulling up to the intersection I was suddenly joined by two boys running alongside my car, shirtless with tousled hair yet flashing undeniably infectious grins.

The older boy around 7 years old, rushes to my window and distracts me while the younger, 5 or so, dashes to the front of my vehicle. Like hundreds of other homeless and destitute in Bolivia, the boys were performing in the streets hoping to nab a few coins from commuters.

One begins to juggle and the other sings. Or chants rather. But it was endearing enough that even after the juggler drops his limes and I lose sight of him altogether I reach for a couple coins. Only I had none on hand. While he shuffles at the front of my car, I fumbled around for ANYTHING I could give them. Nothing.

This of course, may I add, had to be the Jesus roundabout.

As I looked up from over the hood of the car, a statuesque Jesus set in the center of the intersection looked down on me with arms spread wide.

Apologizing to the kids as I drove away leaving them empty handed, I proceeded to take out my frustration on Jesus, blaming him for putting the kids in the street in the first place. And for allowing the girl to use a tree instead of a toilet. And for the relentless taxi drivers that blared their horns as they watched me circle the statue with arms raised and fists clenched.

At 25 I still detest The Lion King’s opener, and I finally learned why.

I need a reason for the way things have to be.

These sights aren’t new to me. Nor is it the first time I’ve been confronted by extreme poverty and been left feeling helpless. It’s a reality I am forced to see and think about everyday while living in Bolivia.

But this time the scenarios stuck with me as I settled into the classroom. As my six-year-old students complained about not wanting to draw pictures or practice the English names of farm animals, I was struck by how unfair it felt that the children in the street below may never have the chance to color with their own set of colored pencils. And unlike the children in my room, they may never have the opportunity to put on a shiny new backpack on their way to school to learn a language that will help take them anywhere they want to go in the future.

Life’s not fair, is it?

While considering what really separates the kids learning in my classroom from the kids living in the streets, the word “luck” echoed through my thoughts. Resounding what my boyfriend has offered me before on the matter, the separation boils down to the chance you are born in an environment with the conditions to live well with opportunities to succeed.

I may not understand why things have to be as I see them in this world. And I realize we all struggle in one way or another throughout our lives. But two things became clearer to me at the end of the day.

To start, I can’t go around hollering at statues when I see something upsetting. Blaming others for the misfortunes of many won’t do much good either. I am lucky to be in a position where I can spur change and make a difference where I see it fit. I should get to it, then.

Secondly, counting my blessings and turning my desires for more into acts of gratitude for my privileges shouldn’t only happen after a day like today. I should do such daily.

Maybe then will “life’s not fair” become less of a mantra and more of an afterthought.

What have you done lately to make a difference? What are you thankful for in your life?