I’ve been complaining a lot this week.

More than usual, I should say.

I drove up to DC to start my summer job and have quickly found myself aimlessly whining about this and that.

Bird pooped on my car. Parking is expensive. TV doesn’t get the big game that’s on tonight. Living alone is lonely.

A bunch of talking that will fill the time but get me nowhere.

But I was reminded that I am lucky to have a car to get pooped on and one that needs a parking space. A TV that gets any channels at all. A roof over my head.

This afternoon I was doing some reading on the front porch and heard a constant noise from across the street. A little guy, looking much like my 12-year-old self, sporting his gym shorts and favorite t-shirt shooting hoops in the driveway. But he was just shooting at a wall, no hoop in sight. He grabbed his rebound, simultaneously announcing the imagined game, just like I did as a kid.

And here I sit, lucky enough to have grown up with a backyard that served as a full-court for basketball and a grand stadium for baseball, while sitting on the front-porch of a house the Morehead-Cain is paying for, wearing a t-shirt my mom bought me and reading a book I bought from a store where a guy sat outside asking for my spare change.

Sometimes recognition of privilege is best served through a picture of yourself in someone else’s shoes.

So, I’ll do my best quit with the grumbling and remember how lucky I’ve got it. And put aside money and time for those who could use a hand or a friend.

Or even a basketball goal.


“Cultivate the habit of being grateful for every good thing that comes to you, and to give thanks continuously. And because all things have contributed to your advancement, you should include all things in your gratitude.” – Emerson



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