I am living the dream, but it belongs to someone else.
This is the lie that discontentment whispers: sure, this is good, but it’s not good for you. Sure, technically you’ve been blessed, but not really because you never asked for these so-called blessings. Maybe my life looks like it should be full of joy, but it’s okay that I’m dissatisfied, because the gifts I’ve been given were really meant for someone else.
As much as I love the sun, some days when it flings aside the gray clouds and we get a warm damp afternoon instead of a drizzly wet one, I’m disappointed instead of grateful.
Of course I noticed my son was constantly going to pee. But I made excuses: he wanted to urinate on a bush or a tree outside and didn’t actually have to go; he wanted to leave our homeschool co-op classroom and had learned this was the best way to escape his education; he drinks water religiously; he’s turned pottying into a tic in the same way he sometimes licks his lips over and over or rubs his nose nonstop. I was not oblivious. But I spoke to myself: this is why. This is the cause. And I listened to myself.