Whine Of The Day

Since this is a holiday and no one is likely to read today’s journal posting anyhow, I intend to whine a bit.

Yesterday for the first time in my life I paid a young man at the garage to check the air pressure in the car tires. I just could not see well enough to read the tire gauge and my arthritis hurt too much to get down on ground level to do the job.

I have what my grandmother would have called Galloping Corruption She only recognized two diseases, Galloping Corruption and Creeping Corruption; those two terms covered the spectrum of human illnesses.

Bits of bad news filtered down to us this weekend.

So I feel entitled to whine.

Life is not treating me as I deserve.

Perhaps I should be thankful for that.

God’s mercy keeps any of us from getting what we deserve.

Nevertheless, various petty aggravations make me whine.

First, medical tests show that Ginny’s diabetes is less under control than we thought it was. This dictates certain life style changes and stronger medicines which contain potentially worrying side effects. This news puts Ginny down and out of sorts from her usual cheerful, bubbly self.

In proof reading (Again!) the Christmas book, I uncover typos on virtually every page. How could I have missed these? (Well, learning to type would help.)

News arrived that the professional committee at the local library decided that two of my books they were considering buying are not good enough to make the grade to include in their collection of local authors. This from a library system that spends millions each year buying books! That puts me in my place, doesn’t it.

On the other hand, they did choose to buy copies of my friend Wes’ book about his great-grandfather. Good for Wes! Quite a feather in his cap.

I intended to mow the lawn yesterday in preparation for a family cookout Sunday — Eve is bringing her boy friend to meet the family for the first time and I wanted to make a good impression on him… But Rex is hosting a cookout too and had the lawnmower tied up so our yard remains raggedy.

There’s an election next week so our phone rings continually as automated voice messages from politicians talk to our answering machine. I keep a list of the politicians who have machines call disturbing my home and I vote for any candidate who has NOT insulted us this way. Actually, there was one man I intended to vote for but I crossed his name off the sample ballot when he had a machine call my home. I will not stand for this degrading practice; I will now vote for his opponent.

How is a Christian supposed to handle the normal aggravating vicissitudes of life, all these petty annoyances which gall me like a stone in my shoe? No one small thing warrants getting upset about, but taken collectively they stultify.

First, Ginny and I talk over all these petty grievances and admit they have us down. Just airing things out helps, even when we can do little to remedy any specific situation at the moment.

We talk over what we can change and what we have to live with. What’s our fault and what’s just the way life is.

Then we try to focus on immediate duties. No matter how down and discouraged we feel, the fish still need to be fed, the birdcage liner has to be changed. Eve’s young man still needs to be impressed. The typos still demand corrections.

As the poem says, “Life goes on; I forget just why”.

And somewhere buried in all this crap is sustaining faith in Christ, our belief that He is in control and that He knows what He’s doing.

That was easier for me to believe last week when things were going well than it is this week. But truth is truth whether it is easy to believe or not.

And when faith fails, I can always fall back on good, solid, satisfying whining.

Say... maybe after the election I could buy one of those politician’s automated phone machine and start a new service:

John Cowart’s Dial-A-Whine.

Sounds like a winner to me.