Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.
1 Thessalonians 5:16-18
What do you see?
When you walk through a garden, are you more likely to see the flowers or the weeds? I’ve come to think of that question as the gardener’s version of seeing a glass as being half-empty or half-full.
On any given day, visitors to my garden can find both lovely sections festooned with flowers and unkempt patches needing my attention. My 5-year-old neighbor, Billy[1], tends to focus on the latter, zeroing in on weeds and, this time of year, unraked leaves. Though I attempt to take my young friend’s comments in stride, they sometimes sting. Try as I might, I can never stay ahead of the weeds.
Recently, Billy’s father overheard him pointing out some things that weren’t to his liking. Seeing a teaching moment, he came over and said, “How do you think it makes Ms. Patsy feel when you say things like that? How would you feel if someone came over to our yard and said the same thing?”
Eyes downcast, Billy replied, “Sad,” then quickly changed the subject.
A Proposal
But, in an effort to help him learn to see the beauty, I made a deal with him – “For every thing you tell me you don’t like about my garden, you need to tell me something you do like. How about that?”
We haven’t been outside at the same time since, so I’m not sure if my proposal will stick. Regardless, as I was reviewing our conversation, the Spirit gently convicted me. “How often do you focus on what’s irritating you or not to your liking, instead of on the blessings and provisions God has poured out on you?”
Ouch! That nudge led me to challenge myself with the same proposal I had given Billy: each time I complain, I need to thank God for a blessing. Could it be that with practice, the complaints will decrease and the praise increase? I hope so! Because ultimately, when I’m grumping about something that’s not to my liking, I’m complaining against God.
Fellow Complainers
It’s so easy to read the account of the Israelites’ wanderings and think, “What’s wrong with these people? They’re always grumbling!”
They’d seen God part the Red Sea, ensuring their deliverance from Pharaoh (Exodus 14:21-29). Yet, it wasn’t long before they were hangry, wishing they were back in the land of their captivity, where they “sat by pots of meat and ate their fill of bread” (Exodus 16:3). God provided manna (Exodus 16), which they tired of and began clamoring for meat. He rained down quail – accompanied by a plague because of their incessant whining (Numbers 11). They demanded water, which God miraculously supplied, not once, but twice (Exodus 17:1-7; Numbers 20:1-11).
Still, they muttered.
Though I’m apt to scoff at the Israelites for their griping, I recognize that I’m equally capable of being discontent. When I focus on circumstances I wish were different or long for things I don’t have, I, too, am dishonoring the Giver of all good gifts (James 1:17), the One who didn’t withhold His only Son (Romans 8:32), and has given me everything I will ever need in Him (Philippians 4:19; 2 Peter 1:3).
Perspective
It remains to be seen whether or not Billy will remember our conversation and his father’s counsel. I, however, have been practicing seeing the flowers instead of the weeds in my daily life, trusting my heavenly Father to remind me of my commitment to do so should I start to lose focus. By the power of the Spirit, I will endeavor to rejoice always, pray without ceasing, and give thanks in all circumstances (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18).
Dear Lord, thank You for the brief encounter with my little neighbor, a reminder that I, too, can fall prey to negativity. You have not withheld any good thing from me. Please help me remember that when I’m tempted to complain.
[1] Name has been changed.

Faced with the orange-ball debacle, I decided no one would get to play with it. This, of course, resulted in more sobbing and anguished pleas. Eventually my three charges turned their attention to other things and peace prevailed, at least for a while. Mustering all her 2-year-old earnestness, Emma confided something to me. A smile accompanied my comprehension of what I’d missed the first time when she repeated, “No fit pitchin’, Gammie.” “That’s right, Emma. We don’t pitch fits when we don’t get what we want!”
