Woodstock Whinings

"I can't think anymore. It's like there's a rock concert in my head!" I complained to Matt.
"Welcome to my world. I feel like that a lot," he replied.
"I don't think there's ever a rock concert in your head," I shot back. Then I tried to cover with, "Your's is more like Bluegrass."
"Too late," he sighed. He knew that I didn't think his problems could be as bad as my own.

Self-absorption. It happens at any age. Your problems are so much bigger than anyone else's. No one understands what you are going through. No one really cares. And the whining begins.

I listened to my dog's high-pitched whining this morning. He thought we should be heading out for our walk, but the rain was changing my time table. Captain didn't care that I had other things to do. He didn't want to wait. It was all about HIM.

That was when I realized that my thoughts and prayers were all about ME. Please, God, don't let my prayers be as annoying as the whining of this dog, I begged.

Then I stopped to give the dog some attention. I stroked his ears, patted his belly, and talked to him a bit. He still didn't get the walk that he was complaining about, but he knew that he was cared for. I am still asking God for some things that I have asked for for many, many, many years. And God strokes my hair while he whispers, just wait a little longer.