There are some problems I face on a daily basis.
How am I going to keep up with the laundry and ensure that the sofa isn’t covered with the ironing pile when my husband gets home?
Should I just wash the dishes myself or continue training T on that task, while developing my patience?
Should I let J go running with the neighbors with his mask or tell him no because I’m concerned he’ll have a breathing episode?
Should I buy the tablecloth or the runner?
Given, there are some more challenging issues in my daily walk, including finding time to pray for my husband as his company goes through a set of layoffs. But for the most part, I have good, easy problems.
I’ve said before that people would pay to have my problems. And seriously, they would. Take any woman from Afghanistan or Iraq and she’d probably take my stuff. Even the 10-year-old girl who lives south of me would take my stuff over her own. Her estranged mother is battling cancer without insurance while living in a maggot-infested mobile home.
My maternal grandmother said that if you took everyone’s troubles and put them in a pot and stirred them around, you’d take your own right back out. Wise woman.
My problems…? My problems are like dust in the wind compared to others. So let me hush, and do exactly what Jesus instructed: Count it ALL joy!
Praise God that I have clothes to wear, a washer and dryer, a sofa to sit on, and a husband who comes home every night.
Praise God I have dishes to eat from, food to put on them, and a son who is happy to be a part of the family team.
Praise God for wonderful neighbors and a great insurance plan when health challenges arise.
Praise God for the table and chairs that are filled with those I love.
My problems are my praise!
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