Luxury Problems
About three weeks after I severely broke my leg during a visit to Georgia in 2012, Jay and I returned back home to Los Angeles. My family would usually gather in LA at the beginning of August each year for our annual vacation, but they were all very concerned for me and nearly cancelled the trip. I figured I could either be recuperating at home or at the beach with my family; naturally, I chose the latter.
We arrived at the beautiful beachside hotel, only about an hour away from our house, though it felt lightyears from what had been my most recent circumstances in the leg break. Moving forward in life after a big change is always clunky, even painful, but so necessary. Breathing in that crisp ocean air was well worth the extra throbbing in my leg from the cramped car trip.
I had helped book the spot for my Dad months earlier, getting him a fabulous deal, of course, and though the property owner mentioned there were a few stairs leading up to the door, I had not connected that a few stairs to some people may seem like infinitely more if you can't physically walk up stairs. The full flight that I would have to traverse every time I came and went from our room was momentarily discouraging, particularly since I knew I would be totally dependent on my Dad and Jay to get me up and down.
I have always been wired as an eternal optimist, though the hardship of my stroke has given that aspect of my personality a run for its money at time. To have finally made it to this place of relaxation, rest, and family fellowship, only for there to be such a prominent physical obstacle presented me with an opportunity to be either swallowed up with frustration or filled with gratitude. After we had all been through so much that summer, it seemed only fair that we deserved to have the perfect week of oceanside respite. But as we all know, there’s no quota on suffering.
Over that long weekend we spent together, there were more opportunities to either be annoyed or go with the flow—the heat, the crowds, the awkward interaction with a fellow guest over a pool chair.
None of us can control much, but we can control our response in life. Each unexpected moment presents us with that opportunity to focus on the bitterness or the blessing.
After spending time in Africa in 2006 and neuro-rehab in 2009, we are hesitant to be distraught by life's little inconveniences. Living in LA, and now Atlanta, we tend to hear so much griping over the traffic, the lack of seasons, the cost of gas, Trader Joe's no longer carrying someone's particularly favorite type of chocolate bar. Our wise friend Bethany always counters these complaints with "That's a luxury problem.”
Please don't mishear me, I deeply feel that pain is relative, and, similar to how the Lord cares about the little issues in our lives, we should care about things that cause each other pain. We are called to bear the burdens of those with whom we "do life together.” Nonetheless, perspective is everything in life. Can we in good conscience call these day-to-day obstacles real problems, particularly when there is significant suffering and pain running rampant all around us? The vast majority of the world doesn't have the luxury to fret over the things many of us call problems.
Lord, help us to live lives of gratitude for all You so graciously give us, the good, the bad, and the ugly. The luxuries and the problems.
