I complain to my husband about how unproductive the berries have been. "Look at the neighbor's berries! They have so many ripe berries! We have one!"
"We weren't supposed to have any this year," my husband--the gardening expert--reminds me. "The neighbor's plants are mature, and ours are young. Next year, we'll have our berries."
I wasn't supposed to have any. The truth of it resonates deep in my soul. I expect and demand so much. I look at all my worries on this Sunday: my daughter's possible gluten allergy, news of a sick friend in the hospital, my deadlines, my students. I place them all in the great lap of God. I'm humbled before that lap; I do not demand or complain.
His great blessing brought into my life the very things I now worry about. His great blessing--when I did not deserve even one of these things--children, friends, work or whatever it is--means I cleanse my heart and rejoice in the very things about which I want to complain.
That one bright berry--when I wasn't supposed to have any--tastes sweeter than you can imagine.
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Journal: Am I fretting over a blessing?