In BSF this week we studied about the Israelites and their grumbling in the desert about how all they ever got to eat was manna and, oh, didn't they have it great back in Egypt where there was meat and free fish and cucumbers and making billions of bricks out of straw and death edicts on their newborn sons. Why is it that it is so easy to complain? I was really convicted about how I complain about how loooong my days are with my two healthy and well-fed children, in my two-story four bedroom house, while my husband is at his stable and secure job. Poor poor me.
The complaining extends to the next generation as well. Frankie was playing with the brand-new play restaurant diner we "bought for Molly" for her birthday and she knocked over a plastic coffee cup which was devoid of even pretend coffee. She literally sank to her knees and began keening "WHY do bad things always happen to ME? WHY?." Yikes. There's a dramatic reminder of some work on a grateful attitude that needs to be done in this household.