I like that the simple things make me happy.
Even when I’m feeling low, a little thing like a hot cup of tea can make me feel better. Or a hug. A song. A chapter in a book. A walk.
There are millions of things that can make me happy.
That’s why it blows my mind when people lose sight of the little things. When their lives are so completely blown out of proportion, they think their privileged life isn’t worth living. There are a lot of people who suffer from this malady, which, in this day and age, in this poor economy and the environment of everyday life that our country is struggling through, is an utter shame.
It’s almost offensive, in some ways, that a person can complain about things like the installation of their new kitchen not going as quickly as they’d like, or about it raining on a day when they have to work outdoors. Yet, I see/hear these complaints regularly posted on Facebook or Twitter, or uttered in conversation. (Oh, how the world has changed since social networking allowed us to air our every grievance!)
I’m far from a saint in the complaint regard. I have to keep my complaining in check, because the urge strikes often.
But the more time I spend at a place in life I don’t very much care for, the more thankful I become for the things I have. And that’s good. I’m thankful for the thankfulness. I’m thankful that when I do complain, it’s because I can’t provide for my family in a way that I feel they deserve, or because my situation has stressed me out so badly that I take it out on someone else who doesn’t deserve it. Those, I feel, are valid complaints. They affect others.
That’s not to say that someone should be happy their new kitchen isn’t being installed fast enough, or that they should do a happy dance in the rain they so despise, but it is to say that those people could do with a healthy dose of perspective.
I love the little things.
I love life.
I really, really love having perspective.