I recently witnessed a child complaining and whining. Before you accuse me of being the mother of this child, let me stop you. There’s nothing but blue skies and rainbows in the Snapp house. Surely, you’ve learned that, if nothing else, from reading a post or two. I’m the perfect mother.
Well, I’ve never been arrested. (a warrant was issued in Louisiana, but I didn’t find myself back in that awful place long enough for anyone to cuff me).
At any rate, this is just a generic child. I’m calling him or her Pat. Because I can.
Pat was having a pretty good day from what I could tell. He had received some accolades for personal achievements. (I gave up on the gender-neutral thing. Pat is a boy.) He had been treated to a lunch at Taco Bell followed by ice cream at Baskin Robbins. His life was pretty chore-free for the moment.
But he started talking about something he’s saving his money for that nobody will buy him and that eventually degenerated into a pretty whiney conversation about stuff. Possessions. Things we have. Things we don’t have. Mostly, though, it was all about what we don’t have. What HE doesn’t have.
And by the time I could manage to find this poor kid’s mother (who raises kids like this? Even a silverback gorilla could do better...), the conversation had fallen into the “my life is a terrible, wasted piece of trash” category. There was no fixing it. Seriously, kid…does your mother know about this? Entire books exist on just this topic.
Anyway, I tried to quote a few parables and pull some old memory verses out of my head, but in the end I didn’t really solve anything. I did, however, make a mental note. At this particular moment, within this specific discussion, there was no peace…no contentment. And the entire reason for that was that Poor Pat could not see what was in front of him at all. He was incapable of seeing the “sunshine in his pocket.” The Taco Bell was long digested. So was the ice cream. Awards? Forget them. Video game consoles? Who cares. All he could see was what he didn’t have or couldn’t have. And that’s where he landed.
How often do I do this? I’ll be happy when I’m 30 pounds lighter. I’ll feel better when I get botox. When I have a million dollars. When I stop witnessing children whining about things they don’t have. When this. When that.
Be happy NOW.
Be content NOW.
Be at peace now. As you are. As I am.
Go running. Get a haircut. Buy an outfit…if that’s what you want to do. But don’t require that for peace. That’s not what peace is.
Now if I could just teach that to Pat.
And to me.
If I had $1,000,000, I could afford my own therapist.