Okay, that's rhetorical, I know I'm not the only one that complains about my blessings as if they are burdens. For example, a woman I was hanging out with (and by hanging out, I mean sitting close to and overhearing), complained that she had to drive the Mercedes again because the Jag was in the shop again. Oh, the horror of it all.
I don't have such high-class complaints and yet . . .
This weekend, I found myself dreading washing the cars and complaining about having to clean youngest son's room and bathroom again (he somehow manages to visit just long enough to trash the place). Complaining rather than being grateful for having multiple cars that have transported us many inexpensive and carefree miles. (Full disclosure -- the Jeep and Honda have provided us with inexpensive and carefree miles. The other car not so much but it is pretty and fast so there's that.) Complaining rather than being grateful that our son came to visit. Complaining rather than being grateful for having multiple bathrooms. Complaining because that has become the default setting for the multiple conversations that take place in my head.
But I believe it is possible to change default settings. To learn to ride the ups and downs of life and recognize which is which. To understand that I can't always control the direction but can appreciate the highs when they occur and learn from the lows when they come around. To learn to differentiate between blessings and burdens.
Footnote: My parents raised five children in a house with one small bathroom.
How small was it? This bathroom was so small that it was an incentive
for weight control -- if you gained too much weight, you couldn't fit
into the area with the toilet. Now that's something to complain about.
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