I’ve been really tempted to complain lately.
I’m parenting alone a good portion of the time, I have two kids in diapers, am acting as general contractor on our massive home renovation while my husband is on the road, I had to do our taxes alone because we procrastinated and had to do them while Hank was gone, none of the grandparents live in our same town to help me…blah, blah, blah.
But you know what? I’m sick and tired of hearing myself complain, even if it is mostly internal. So, I’m taking a step to stop.
It’s not fair to my children, my husband, or anyone else. I have an amazing life and to complain is just a slap in the face to my God who has chosen to bless me beyond anything that I deserve. It’s a slap in the face to my friends who parent alone all the time. It’s a slap in the face to people with real hardship, the stuff of which I have never experienced.
I was given a few jolts of reality this weekend that jumpstarted my desire to stop this ridiculous internal pity party that seems to creep in every few months:
First, the heartbreaking story of Adrian Peterson’s little baby who was killed at the hands of the baby’s mother’s boyfriend. Just writing those words makes me nauseous. I can’t even begin to understand the mind of someone who would beat a helpless little child. A baby. A little baby…I held mine extra close that night.
Then, friends of ours rushed to the hospital, in fear that they were miscarrying. Thankfully, a sonogram revealed that everything was fine. But as Hank and I were talking that evening we acknowledged with gratitude that we have never experienced real tragedy in our lives.
Later, I went to a garage sale that was one of the saddest homes I’ve visited. The sale was small, and consisted almost exclusively of opened and fully assembled, but completely unused new baby items. An infant carseat, a bouncer, an exersaucer, a snow sled, bottles, a bottle dryer, etc. The couple having the sale had a tangible sadness about them. You didn’t have to know their story to tell that there had been loss. A miscarriage, a failed adoption, unsuccessful fertility treatments…I can only guess. They had everything they needed for a baby, but no baby.
I bought the exersaucer for Etta, feeling guilty somehow for buying something from these people who seemed to want so badly to have been able to use these things themselves.
Loss is everywhere. It’s so heavy, it’s so thick.
So how can I complain? I won’t. I just can’t. I have three healthy children. That alone is a miracle worth celebrating daily. I have a husband who loves me, who treats me better than he needs to. I get to stay at home and raise my children. My family loves each other. I have so much to be thankful for…so why is it so easy to start feeling sorry for myself for little petty things like being late everywhere because of untimely poopy diapers, having to put kids to bed all by myself every night, having to oversee the men working on our home, or not having the ability to go grab coffee with a girlfriend when I want to?
I don’t usually get this heavy, but I had to share, as a kind of accountability. It’s one thing to have an idea, but putting that idea down on paper makes it a bit more tangible. I know I will fail, but I am going to be intentional from this day forward to stop complaining about my circumstances. It only leads to a loss of joy, exhaustion, resentment, and discontent.
My dad has often said that he would literally give a million dollars to have just one day back with all of us as little girls.
I don’t want to whine this time away. And I know that if I am able to get in the habit of being thankful, joyful, and looking for the good, it will serve me well in future times of struggle, pain, or loss.
Because I know that joy isn’t circumstantial, it’s a state of being.
They say it takes 21 days to start a new habit, right? So, starting today, I’m going to post one thing every day that I’m thankful for or find joy in. Feel free to comment back with your own! I would love to hear from you! A friend of mine recently did a “21 days of gratitude” challenge and I thought it was a fantastic idea.
DAY 1: I’m thankful for my double stroller (Phil and Teds Vibe) - this seems silly, but without it, I would not be able to get and infant, a toddler, and a big kid to church, the farmer’s market, to friend’s houses…we even took it to a Pumpkin Patch tonight. It’s nearly as valuable to me as my car, and it makes going places and doing things possible when I’m taking the kids somewhere by myself.
live well. be well.
