It’s all a matter of supply and demand.
I can’t buy an excuse. I need one, but they’re nowhere to be found.
When people talk about their past, it’s often filled with heart breaking themes. Broken homes. Illnesses. Financial woes. Violence. I had none of that.
So whatever struggles, anxieties, or neuroses I may experience, real or imagined, environmentally or self-imposed, I can point to nobody but my own dang self.
I have no financial turmoil from which to draw. My folks made ends meet. No lack of friendships. In fact, I probably relied to heavily on them. Nobody beat me up or infringed on my freedom of speech.
My rights weren’t violated, my esteem wasn’t invalidated, and my eyes weren’t dilated.
I saw everything clearly.
But I didn’t always act appropriately. In fact, at times my behavior was atrociously selfish.
I had everything I needed. A comfortable home. A loving, working family. A decent education. Social opportunities.
I married a Christian woman. I have four healthy kids and three hilarious grandchildren. I have a job I love, friends I cherish, and a band I dig.
Oh, and by the way. I have a personal relationship with Jesus, too.
Perfect, right?
So I have no excuse to be sad. No excuse to be mad. No excuse to be hurt, or rude, or jealous. No excuse to be anything but jubilant all the time.
But I’m not.
Because stuff happens. People say hurtful things. Some don’t say anything at all. People take advantage of me and others. Situations don’t work out. Money gets tight. I screw up.
People exhibit sinful traits and it bothers me. Particularly when they’re traits I don’t struggle with. At least I don’t think I do. Perhaps I’m as blind to my shortcomings as they are. But that’s for another blog.
I almost wish I had those terrible testimonies others love to tell. The ones where God triumphed over impossible odds or horrific sin. If only I had been raised by flawed people, I’d have a reason for my struggles.
Oh wait. I was. We all were.
So I suppose it’s all in how we choose to look at it at any given moment. We can choose to focus on the pain, or we can count our blessings. Yeah, that’s the ticket.
Because after all, EVERY good and perfect gift is from God.
I feel better already.