Several months ago, I accepted a challenge to stop complaining for 7 days. The deal was to embrace the hokey idea that less complaining leads to a happier life. If you've read my posts, you know that I have floundered, fumbled, failed and pretty much effed it up. I've even tried to defend my whining ways.
Yeah. I may be going about this all wrong. I might need an attitude adjustment before I begin to wholeheartedly embrace the joy of woe.
Ralph Waldo Emerson said, "Cultivate the habit of being grateful for every good thing that comes to you and give thanks continuously. And because all things have contributed to your advancement, you should include all things in your gratitude."
Was Emerson right? Can all things be good things? While I may question that tenet, I am willing to try this on: What if the problem isn't the circumstances, but my perception?
Have you ever noticed that what begins as an excuse to complain, sometimes ends up as a reason to be grateful? Sometimes it's the little things.
Little Dogs and Starry Nights
Not long ago after an exhausting day, my little dog Coco woke me up out of deep sleep at 3 o'clock in the morning, to let me know she needed to make a business trip to the yard. I wasn't thrilled. Coco's a smart, sweet and timid mutt. She's part Australian Shepard and because she strains the leash to avoid most people and all dogs, I suspect she is also part chicken. She is a creature of comfort who hates rain and wet grass and she loves to snuggle with me in a warm bed. I am very fond of her and want her to live forever.
Tonight, however she was being a pain in the tookus. When I became fully awake and turned on the light, I looked at her and asked, "Seriously?" She returned my glare with big brown eyes and scratched the door. I grabbed my robe and her leash with a huff of exasperation and I stomped, while she pranced out the door and into the night. It's times like this that I'm glad she can't talk and out me on my childish behavior.
We have no street lights in our neighborhood, so when the stars are out, they are out! That night the sky was brilliantly alive with stars that they seemed close enough to touch. A a celestial feast! I was so mesmerized that I planted my feet in the grass, tilted my head back and basked in their beauty. Seconds later, with an unexpected flash, a shooting star streaked across the sky and left a trail of light for just a moment. It happened so fast that my mind took a minute to catch up with the experience.
We have no street lights in our neighborhood, so when the stars are out, they are out! That night the sky was brilliantly alive with stars that they seemed close enough to touch. A a celestial feast! I was so mesmerized that I planted my feet in the grass, tilted my head back and basked in their beauty. Seconds later, with an unexpected flash, a shooting star streaked across the sky and left a trail of light for just a moment. It happened so fast that my mind took a minute to catch up with the experience.
While shooting stars may not be rare, they are for me and I knew this one was a gift. When we went back inside, I hugged my little dog for getting me out of bed and urging me out into that starry, starry night.
Stormy Moods and Rivers
Not all gifts appear in the middle of the night. Sometimes they materialize in the midst of a morning storm.Several weeks ago I was to crew in a race at my sailing club. Once a month we have the Big Boys Race for boats 20 feet or larger. I love being out on the river in the hot Florida sun and rigging the boat, hoisting sails and manning the jib. It's also an opportunity to learn from the experienced sailors.
Prior to the race, during the skipper's meeting, it began to rain and the commodore canceled the race. My mood became almost as foul as the weather and as dark as the looming clouds. But we have a friendly group at the club and a few of us sat under the pavilion, talking and watching the river and the rain. As I enjoyed myself just being with the other sailors, I began to forget about the fact that I was dry-docked for the day.
When my mood brightened, so did the weather and one of the best sailors at our club asked another gal and me if we'd like to go for a sail. We enthusiastically accepted and the three of us spent the rest of the afternoon sailing under beautiful skies and generous winds on 25 ft sailboat. If the race had gone off without a hitch, I would have been crewing and yes, it would have been great. But it's rare for a skipper to hand over the tiller during a race. Seconds count and tacks have to be perfect. But that day, for the better part of our sail, the skipper assigned me to the helm. It was a thrilling, wonderful day I will never forget. Another gift.
Mama-Baby Doctors
Sometimes it's bigger than inconvenience or disappointment.When I was pregnant with Olivia, I was not crazy about my OB/GYN She had a cavalier attitude about my pregnancy and often became impatient when I peppered her with questions about Lamaze, Le Leche League and labor. I'm pretty sure I caught her in an eye-roll during one of my interrogations.
Okay, I admit that I may have been a little intense, but I was new at this and I wanted to get it right. When she frightened me with a false diagnosis of Gestational diabetes, I lost confidence.
During my 8th month, an insurance hiccup resulted in the need for me to switch doctors and as much as I disliked my current doc, I panicked. This was not what hormone-infested-mother-to-be-me wanted to deal with. Change was the last thing I wanted at a time when my body and my life were doing nothing but.
Hadn't I had already relinquished control over my appetite, my figure and my good nature? It wasn't fair that I had to break in a new doctor so late in the game! I wavered between bouts of hormonal, hysterical tears and self-indulgent whining until I accepted my fate and drove to my first appointment. The cry-baby-mama was about to meet the new mama-baby doctor.
Sometimes it's bigger than inconvenience or disappointment.When I was pregnant with Olivia, I was not crazy about my OB/GYN She had a cavalier attitude about my pregnancy and often became impatient when I peppered her with questions about Lamaze, Le Leche League and labor. I'm pretty sure I caught her in an eye-roll during one of my interrogations. Okay, I admit that I may have been a little intense, but I was new at this and I wanted to get it right. When she frightened me with a false diagnosis of Gestational diabetes, I lost confidence.
During my 8th month, an insurance hiccup resulted in the need for me to switch doctors and as much as I disliked my current doc, I panicked. This was not what hormone-infested-mother-to-be-me wanted to deal with. Change was the last thing I wanted at a time when my body and my life were doing nothing but.
Hadn't I had already relinquished control over my appetite, my figure and my good nature? It wasn't fair that I had to break in a new doctor so late in the game! I wavered between bouts of hormonal, hysterical tears and self-indulgent whining until I accepted my fate and drove to my first appointment. The cry-baby-mama was about to meet the new mama-baby doctor.
He was simply perfect. Full of empathy and answers, he was not only kind, he was the best OB/GYN in the county. He was also a life-saver! A couple of weeks before my due date he scheduled me for an in-office sonogram. Sixteen years ago, few doctors had these expensive machines in their offices. During the test, he discovered that I was dangerously low on amniotic fluid. That meant, I was either need of an oil change or a delivery room. Dr Lifesaver and I agreed on the latter. It didn't escape me that Dr. Cavalier would have never known that I was a few quarts low. And although I went into early labor that evening, it could have been 20 hours before she ordered me to the hospital.
Early the next morning I checked into the labor ward where they immediately started an IV drip of Pitocin to augment my labor. I'll be kind and spare you the details of how a nurse broke my water with a knitting needle. Okay, it looked like a knitting needle. And won't share the particulars of hard labor and epidurals, both of which are not pretty.
What matters is this; they were monitoring my baby's pulse, along with my contractions when they discovered her heartbeat was becoming faint. My doctor wasted no time in performing an emergency C-section. When he pulled her from my belly, he found the umbilical cord wrapped around her neck. This is not an uncommon occurrence, but in Olivia's case the cord was stretched and compressed enough to not only prevent her from moving down the birth canal; it was cutting off her blood supply. I came very close to losing her. That day, I thanked God for my healthy baby girl, Dr. Lifesaver and insurance glitches. It was and will always be my best gift.
A Gratitude Attitude
A wise friend told me, "You will rarely find something if you aren't looking for it." So, what if I look for the gift? And what if I had enough faith to expect the gift? It may not always be a shooting star, or a chance at the helm on a sailboat, or a life-saving doctor. Maybe my next gift will be a lesson or a pot of gold or a song. What if embrace Emerson and try to find the good in all situations? Okay, I may be carried away. Perhaps I can aim for all, try for most and settle for some. Maybe I can stop complaining if I don't take myself so seriously and merely be grateful. What if I adopt an attitude of gratitude? If I look for reasons to be grateful, I can find them. I have my children, family and friends who love me and make me laugh, my health, and a car that runs most of the time.
There is an old German proverb that says, “Instead of complaining that the rosebush is full of thorns, be happy that the thorn bush has roses.”
So, while I will not buy a pair of rose-colored glasses, I will make a point of looking for the roses. If I still want to complain. I can always find a reason. Half a dozen come to mind right now, like the economy and the fact that I have too much month at the end of my money and congressman who get paid too much for doing too little and traffic and taxes and aging.
I can always miss the roses and focus on the thorns. But isn't that just too easy?
