One grumpy morning, I woke up to a bright-blue sky and a friend and a dog and a mug of hot coffee, but I couldn’t enjoy them. I was too busy wanting what I didn’t have. The more I thought about what was missing, the smaller and stuffier my world felt. Dreary, grumbling thoughts plodded through my mind, one after another. For a while, I entertained them: “Come on in. Make yourself at home. Ruin my day.” Then, mercifully, a small, wobbly part of me timidly reminded me that I had a choice. I didn’t have to keep entertaining the grumbles and complaints. I could open the back door and tell them all to leave. So I did. Once they were gone, the sky was bright-blue again, and the hours of the brand-new day looked like so many gifts waiting to be opened.
“[T]hat terrible hindrance of the spiritual life which . . . is so apt to steal upon many good and earnest souls—a complaining, grumbling, self-pitying spirit.” H. L. Sidney Lear
“I will give thanks. . . .” 2 Samuel 22:50