A few years ago, I decided for Lent, to give up complaining.
Talk about an eye opener. I bit my tongue many times over those forty-some days. What happened though, was a small miracle. I found myself, toward the end of Lent, barely trying to complain. The thoughts didn’t even bop into my head, much…
Not complaining left space for thanking, joking, analyzing, admiring, praising, listening, and singing. (I don’t have a great voice but happily husband Cliff never complains unless I sing the same song ad infinitum.)
And not complaining inspired this poem, titled “Socks.”
Socks don’t lead
An easy life.
Sweaty feet, and
In tight quarters,
Yet I never hear
My socks complain.
Maybe I should be
More like socks.
And ever ready to
Step into shoes
For the next adventure.
I hope you won’t complain about my pun, but I have to say that menopause socked it all to me. I’m finally getting that life throws us punches; that not everything is fair; that yes, there’s plenty of malfunction in the world; and that complaining IS optional. Time is short and why spend it as an old grump.
What about you? Do you find yourself complaining more or less the older you get? And what lessons have you learned from your humble socks?