OUR LITANY OF COMPLAINTS
Growing up, i felt people had too many things to complain.
i thought: Perhaps people might find themselves happier if they
were more content with their lot. As a society, is the older
generation somewhat responsible for breeding a younger
generation of spoilt brats?
After the birth of Zoe, i started behaving like Lot's wife*.
i would greet my husband, after a long and arduous day, as he
steps into our home, with, "Today, your daughter blah, Blah,
BLAH! #@%&XO!!" Is it that difficult to delight in the JOYS of
our children when we still have them? i have two friends, whose
daughters died when they were seven-years old. One, after
suffering and struggling several years from a terminal illness, and
the other, from an accident in the shower.
Yesterday, i took my friend, an asylum seeker in the country
i am currently residing, to the public library. i wanted to sponsor
her membership so that she could have access to books to read
to her three-years old boy and eight-months old infant. The
librarian clearly did not want to embarrass us with the reason
for rejection. (We did not have the necessary papers). i was
disappointed but my friend, in her usual sweet-natured demeanor,
said, "That's OK. I'm used to it. They always say i'm not a citizen
of this country."
She then shared with me how difficult it was to get her son enrolled
into a local school. Yet with each sigh, she ends them with a broad
smile, "That's OK. Maybe some day, things will get better." Now,
compared with someone denied of such a basic cognitive need, how
short can our day-to-day's imperfections be?
The next time you want to complain about something, think. Is it
worth nurturing that side of you? jeanne anne hsi
*: In the Old Testament, Lot's wife complained about everything.
She was subsequently turned into stone, as a punishment by God.
i thought: Perhaps people might find themselves happier if they
were more content with their lot. As a society, is the older
generation somewhat responsible for breeding a younger
generation of spoilt brats?
After the birth of Zoe, i started behaving like Lot's wife*.
i would greet my husband, after a long and arduous day, as he
steps into our home, with, "Today, your daughter blah, Blah,
BLAH! #@%&XO!!" Is it that difficult to delight in the JOYS of
our children when we still have them? i have two friends, whose
daughters died when they were seven-years old. One, after
suffering and struggling several years from a terminal illness, and
the other, from an accident in the shower.
Yesterday, i took my friend, an asylum seeker in the country
i am currently residing, to the public library. i wanted to sponsor
her membership so that she could have access to books to read
to her three-years old boy and eight-months old infant. The
librarian clearly did not want to embarrass us with the reason
for rejection. (We did not have the necessary papers). i was
disappointed but my friend, in her usual sweet-natured demeanor,
said, "That's OK. I'm used to it. They always say i'm not a citizen
of this country."
She then shared with me how difficult it was to get her son enrolled
into a local school. Yet with each sigh, she ends them with a broad
smile, "That's OK. Maybe some day, things will get better." Now,
compared with someone denied of such a basic cognitive need, how
short can our day-to-day's imperfections be?
The next time you want to complain about something, think. Is it
worth nurturing that side of you? jeanne anne hsi
*: In the Old Testament, Lot's wife complained about everything.
She was subsequently turned into stone, as a punishment by God.
