Yesterday morning I woke up feeling weary and overwhelmed and more exhausted than I had the night before. It was one of those mornings where the thought of lifting the covers takes physical strength.
I woke up frustrated and my inner groaning grew louder and louder.
"I hate this house," I thought to myself. My little family has been living in this 60-year-old house for a year. We have had mice, spiders and an astronomic electric bill as the result of poor insulation. I get annoyed by the smell of the cows in the field behind my house, the dishwasher that works when it wants to. The tiny bathroom with the loudest pipes known to man that may, or may not wake the baby when you flush the toilet. I was tired of the sound of the dehumidifier that runs 24 hours a day to fight the mold that will begin to grow if it doesn't run.
"I hate living here," I groaned into my pillow. I began to drift back to sleep when I heard the sound of my husband turning on the shower. It was early, the sun wouldn't rise for another hour and my son wouldn't rise for another two. I wished my husband didn't have to leave for work so early.
As I tried, once again to get comfortable in my bed I remembered some wise words from my sister. "God honors contentment."
I let out a sigh and I asked God to forgive my inward complaints, to change my attitude and to help me be grateful we even had a place to live.
After a hectic morning my son went down for a nap and I opened my devotional. It was Philippians 4:10-13.
My life is incredibly good. It is incredibly easy compared to the lives of many I know and it is incredibly comfortable. I do not worry how we are going to pay our bills, feed our child or heat our home.
I have much in which I can be content.