When He calls you on it

My beloved pastor and father-in-law said something in a sermon several years ago that I have never forgotten. Watch your toes.

"Behind every complaint is a blessing."

Groundbreaking. In a society of entitlement, impatience, selfishness, and general dissatisfaction, Christians are called to be set apart. To live differently. And how different would we be if we would stop complaining? Stop murmuring, bickering, whining, and instead to be thankful for the countless blessings we already have. Because they are indeed countless.

Not exactly sure why this statement stuck with me the way it did. Maybe because there is such truth behind it. I don't complain all the time, but when I do, the Holy Spirit speaks right up with this, and it immediately changes my perspective.

I'm so sick of unloading this dishwasher all the time.
You didn't have to wash all these dishes by hand. They were dirty because your home is stocked with food, and bellies are full. And there are cabinets for the dishes to go to. Thank You, Lord.

I hate packing lunches. It never ends.
You have people to pack lunches for. You're saving money and filling them up with healthy food. And you have plenty of food go in the boxes. Thank You, Lord.

Do I really have to go to work today?
You have a fantastic job that supports the needs (and wants) of your family, and allows you to spend two days every week at home, to give you more time with your family. Thank You, Lord.

You see how it goes. It is a game-changer to turn a gripe session into worship time. Seems it happens to me quite a bit. Sometimes it doesn't come easy, and I have to speak out loud Colossians 3:23, and declare to the Lord, "I will serve you with all my heart." Over and over.

It wasn't easy last night.

Did a load of laundry - the boys' clothes from the past week - and somehow in my laziness/ignorance, managed to miss the fact that a pull-up was stuck inside a pair of Aden's pajamas.

I don't even know what to say, y'all. You can't know what I opened the washer door to unless you've seen it with your own eyes. It was bad. Except worse than that.

Tiny little gelatinous crystals of disgustingness. Billions of them, and I'm not lying. Clinging to every square centimeter of every article of clothing, inside and out, in a full-size load of laundry. Caked along the sides of the washer barrel. Piled in the fabric softener dispenser.

It. Was. Bad.

I pause here to warn you that, if this ever happens to you, it will cross your mind that your best option would be to sell your house in its current condition and just start fresh with a new house and all new kids' clothes.

No, our house isn't on the market. After calling myself some pretty horrible names, I did what I had to do. Took the clothes outside and beat and shook each one of them, inside and out, until the little crystals were mostly off of them.

And God used that hour as an opportunity to call me on my "behind every complaint is a blessing". Because at that point, it would have been easy for me to feel justified in complaining. Which is never the case.

I got to spend an hour thanking God for my precious boys. That they are strong and healthy enough to get clothes dirty. That God has provided everything they need to grow and thrive.

And until the bat came out and started flying around my head, it wasn't all that bad. Even with crystals flying into my hair, my eyes, down my shirt, crusting along my arms and legs. By the time I was done, it looked like it had snowed on the deck. Every once in a while a car would drive by while I was shaking the fire out of something, and they would noticeably slow down to try and figure out what I was doing and why a cloud of white stuff went flying everywhere. Nice.

But it was a worship service all the same. I love Jesus, and I want my life to be different. If seeing complaints as blessings is a way for me to be set apart for Him, bring on the opportunities.

Though I'll be meticulously checking every last thing I put in the washer from now on.