Nothing to complain about

Sometimes, you just need to lay back and soak up all of your blessings.

I've been complaining a lot lately.

Every morning for the past month or so, it's been harder and harder to go to work. I hate leaving Preston, and I miss him so much every day. It's like when I leave, I'm actually going to space and have a long training period plus two years aboard the space station to prepare for and won't be able to see him between the zero-gravity simulations and learning how to properly mix Tang. In reality, I'll see him when I pick him up at 4.

Not really the same thing.

Sunday in my church Bible class, we talked about having a positive attitude, and I thought about my own negative attitude. It struck me that I must sound very ungrateful.

You see, the job I complain about going to I prayed so hard for five years ago. A freshly minted collage grad with no job prospects on the horizon, I spent a lot of time tweaking my resume, watching "Jon and Kate Plus 8," and praying that something — anything! — would come along. And then I got a job. For the college I attended and loved. As a writer ... one of those jobs you say you're going to be as a little kid (like astronaut, princess and dinosaur) that aren't really realistic but cute when you're four.

And having a baby who I hate leaving means that I have a baby. A giggly, cuddly, sweet-hearted little boy with blue eyes and pudgy cheeks. I know that seems pretty obvious, but I remember wanting and praying for a baby so hard and the disappointment I felt when the month passed and the pregnancy test was negative. And the caretaker who watches that baby is another one of the many things I prayed for my little one. I wanted to have someone who loved him and cared for him as if he was her own, and I have that! Beyond what I could've imagined.

It struck me that the very thing I griped about was actually three beautiful examples of how God listened to my prayers and answered them — and gave me exactly what I asked for! Who am I, then, to say that's not good enough? To say that I want more?

I'm not saying that God is mad at me for missing my son. I know he understands that. What I am saying is that, instead of groaning at the fact that I have to get up (out of a warm bed! with a roof over my head!), get ready (with hot water! and food in the fridge!), and go to work (by driving! in a car! that works!), maybe I should take a step back and take a change of perspective.

It reminds me of Deuteronomy 6:10-11 where the Israelites are reminded that what they receive isn't their own.

"When the Lord your God brings you to the land that he promised to your ancestors Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, he will give you large and beautiful cities that you didn’t build, houses filled with every good thing that you didn’t supply, wells that you didn’t dig, and vineyards and olive groves that you didn’t plant."

I didn't create any of this but was given it by a loving God. That's nothing to complain about.