Lets get real here. Sometimes I complain. And I’m going out on a limb here (not really, not really at all) but I’d say I’m fairly dramatic when whining. Okay, I’m totally dramatic. For example, the 30 minutes before I got an epidural and had to deal with those stinkin’ contractions (although I do feel contractions warrant some complaining) I grabbed the side of the bed and yelled out in agony even though I was only dilated to a three. Yeah.
So when I started talking to a pregnant friend, whom I haven’t seem in a while, only to find out that she’s been in and out of the hospital for the last six months, throwing up so much that her mouth is corroded, I realized 30 minutes of contractions wasn’t so bad after all.
I also recall those times when the heater broke down in the middle of the winter. I can’t even count how many times that has happened since I’ve been married. I’m a big fat whiney pants on those days. Then, my mother-in-law sends us the movie, “17 Miracles.”
Have you seen it? I thought “Extreme Makeover: Home Edition” stole my tears, but this movie told stories that dried my tear ducts right out! What is she trying to do to me?? I already cry about everything as it is J
Seriously though, faithful saints with a fervent testimony of Joseph Smith and The Book of Mormon trek across the United States so they can receive temple blessings in the bitter cold and pure drudgery of winter with little food, no shelter and less than meager clothing. Add that to family members laid to rest in shallow graves with wolves constantly on the prowl. Talk about amazing people with rock solid testimonies! I can't imagine any of those saints would whine about a broken heater.
I suppose you could say I’ve had a re-awakening of sorts this week. Because really, no matter how bad we have it, someone else probably has it worse. Except for my varicose vein…it doesn’t get worse than that. (kidding)