I’ve been in a bit of a funk the last few days, thanks to the eruption of Old Faithful in my kitchen and the subsequent damage to the house. Lots of whining and frustration going on over here.
Tonight, I got a reminder of just how blessed I am from reading the Christmas story to Caroline before bedtime; a little readjustment of perspective, if you will:
Christmas Story in a Nutshell: King of Glory leaves His heavenly throne to take on the life of a lowly human. Comes into this world in a dirty, smelly stable surrounded by livestock and dung. Gets greeted by cow breath and shepherd stink. Lives a perfect life and dies on a cross in order to pay a debt we could never pay.
My story: king in his own mind feels like he’s owed something for the work he put in on his house. Is frustrated that he has to walk on bare plywood in his kitchen for a few days. He’s ticked that he might have to work over his two week Christmas break. He still has 3/4 of a home that is heated/cooled/insulated/dry. He has a bed without animals nearby. He has two beautiful kids and an absolutely amazing wife. He has been saved by the aforementioned King of Glory from eternal punishment to a life of glorious freedom, though he deserves only death.
So I’ve resolved that, no matter what tomorrow holds, I am going to enjoy this holy season. I’m going to remember the birth of the King in a hick town much like mine. I’m going to be thankful for the roof over my head, even if the floor underneath isn’t like I’d prefer it. I’m going to give Him praise for what He’s done for me. And I’m going to quit whining.
Amazing what you can learn from bedtime stories.