My house is new(ish).
My appliances are new(ish).
But the epoxy that holds my appliances in place didn't stick so my dishwasher has been falling out of place for nearly a year and a half. And when I say, "falling out," I mean leaning forward a couple of inches when the door is open. Of course this makes the top and bottom racks fall out. For some reason this is a huge inconvenience.
The door of the dishwasher drives me crazy. Huffy crazy. Eye-rolling crazy. Explicative crazy.
Silly isn't it?
I mean, my best friend of a decade hasn't had a dishwasher since I've known her. And I have one that cleans and I complain that it falls forward a bit.
She spends time literally washing dishes; I think it is the worst chore in the world to put away the dishes that my machine cleans.
In ten years, my best friend hasn't lamented to me once about having to wash dishes. I don't think I've gone a week without reminding Matt how awful my dishwasher is.
Six weeks ago I asked my dad or Matt to fix my dishwasher; they didn't.
Calm asking turned to critical hinting.
Hinting turned to nagging.
Nagging turned into a full-blown adult meltdown over the top dishwasher rack falling out when I was trying to put a fork into the dishwasher.
Meltdown=Matt rushed to fix the dishwasher.
Sad to say, I felt justified in my anger toward Matt for not fixing my dishwasher. I mean, hadn't I waited long enough? Hadn't enough time past? If he couldn't remember, then surely my nagging would help.
While Matt fixed my dishwasher, I sat down with One Thousands Gifts and started reading. Two pages into my chapter, Ann Voskamp says this, "long I am woman who speaks but one language, the language of the fall--discontentment and self-condemnation, the critical eye and the never satisfied."
I tried to read right past it but that quotation just pierced me.
That was me.
Surrounded on every side with every luxury; so use to my comfort that any inconvenience, any disruption, sent me into a tail spin.
My lips trembled in the way that only on-coming tears could foster.
How could I be so ungrateful when I have so much?
I kept reading. I ignored the tears. And the shame. And my husband fixing my dishwasher.
And Ann got me one more time at the end by stating, "life change comes when we receive life with thanks and ask for nothing to change."
I'll be a work in progress ... I'll always be a work in progress. But I'm starting to see how wonderful this life really is. And if I keep looking, I have a feeling, I won't ask for better dishwashers or new cars, or new this or new that.
I'll just be content ... grateful, even.