I spend a lot of time complaining.
Not out loud, mind you, but in my head. I’m forever whining to my own self about having too much to do, wishing I could get more done, wishing things could be more perfect, wanting things to be different. I live in a constant cycle of these kinds of thoughts.
And, then, every once in a while, something happens to remind me to shut the hell up.
Today, I found out that a friend’s 3-year-old son died of leukemia after a 2 and a half year battle with that menacing disease. During those 2 and a half years, both parents had to quit working and survive largely on savings and the kindness of friends, family and strangers. Because they, for their part, were in the hospital almost every day.
They watched their son go through surgeries and multiple rounds of chemo and a bone marrow transplant and all manner of horrible, intrusive, painful procedures. They watched him swell up to twice his size and not be able to walk and be sick with all the drugs he had to take to have a fighting chance. And they did it all with smiles on their faces because they just wanted their baby boy to live.
And, today, he died.
Just like that, all their fighting, done. All their hoping, over. All their joy, gone.
And I’m over here, mentally whining because I’ve got a lot to do.
Shut the hell up, Meredith. Go hug your kids and husband and shut the hell up. For just one moment, quit making everything about you and realize how god damn blessed you are.
So, no pretty photos here. No office supplies and To Do List strategies. Nope.
Today, you just get me telling you to shut up and be grateful.