I am so good at complaining. Sometimes. Okay, out with it - most of the times. I complain about how my back aches after I carry my kid. Or when I stoop low to lift my toddler. Or when I go about the household chores.
Some days, I complain about my seemingly lack of energy. And the torture is everyday, I get to see a kid who has the supply of energy equal to a hundred horses. Boundless, even. I wonder if I can get that from the drugstores.
There are times when I try hard to stifle a vain scream as I frantically rummage through my kikay kit for a cream... or a concealer or something, anything to help me cope with the new indentations on my face that I noticed in my reflection on the mirror.
Some days, I complain about my seemingly lack of energy. And the torture is everyday, I get to see a kid who has the supply of energy equal to a hundred horses. Boundless, even. I wonder if I can get that from the drugstores.
There are times when I try hard to stifle a vain scream as I frantically rummage through my kikay kit for a cream... or a concealer or something, anything to help me cope with the new indentations on my face that I noticed in my reflection on the mirror.
I frown when my clothes suddenly feels tight and then blame my slower metabolism for the excess flabs.
I am getting old, I always say. I must ruefully admit that, at 30, indeed, I am so good at complaining about getting old. Me, getting old.
But one afternoon of late, on my way home, I heard someone over the airwaves say: Do not resent growing old because many are deprived of this privilege.
But one afternoon of late, on my way home, I heard someone over the airwaves say: Do not resent growing old because many are deprived of this privilege.
Although I did not resent growing old, I did not like it either. (But then the prospect of growing old leaves little to the appeal, ey?) So I felt that was meant for me.
That statement - it showed me the prospect of getting old in a different light and I just could not look at growing old the same way as before.
I'm not dumping out my prevarication tools but I thank God for giving me the chance to age gracefully. It's just great to be alive. And yes, I thank him for those tools, too.
10 comments:
Thanks for sharing your beautiful heart.
So true. I too am great at complaining. Thank you for the reminder... Great TT :)
Complain! I'm guily and so are my children. You'd think I was in Egypt to hear such grumblings.
(You don't experience old until the dr says "you need open heart surgery! ACK!
We need to work on this.
Found you through TT.
Great post and insight here. I'm a few days from 40(Yikes!) so this was very good to read.
If it is one thing I am good at...I mean really really good....I can toss a complaint with the best of 'em! I loved this post. BEcause I saw me...and saw how He loves each of us...as we are...(just wait till you're 46---then we'll talk about the aches and pains of getting there :)
You blessed me!!!
Hi Z--getting old is truly what we have to face. How we face it is one of our challenges. Very good post Z, and thank you.
Merry Christmas.
Wow.... This is so true...Do not resent growing old because many are deprived of this privilege.... Puts things into perspective.
Girl, growing older has its benefits. I am so thankful for the wisdom that has arrive during my rowing older years. Worth the wrinkles. Thanks for joining TT today. Have a blessed and beautiful Christmas. Love and hugs, Lynn
Oh, I am so guilty of complaining too!! It's SO easy! But honestly...it really doesn't help at all, does it? Thanks for sharing your post...it spoke to my heart!!!
I had to smile when I read your post. Honey, 30 is young. In the south, young is a 2 syllable word.
I don't feel old and I am 58. I look in the mirror and mavel at my self because I don't look like I feel. But it is good to be alive and to be loved.
Blessings,
Mama Bear
I like to complain too. I've been feeling old since I turned 30. I love that quote you shared- a great way to look at it.
Getting old is better than the alternative!
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