Suffering, Blessings, and the Right to Complain

I have been thinking a lot about coveting, complaining, and suffering recently.  It seems to be popping up in conversations, blog posts, and Facebook statuses (stati?) a lot these days.  And as I began to unpack my own personal wants, complaints, trials, and "n't fair" moments, I realized that there might be a way to free myself from some of the frustration and guilt that comes from these feelings.  It occurred to me that coveting something someone else has that I want and being upset because someone who seems to be better off is complaining both come from the same place--I have assessed my position relative to theirs and made a judgment.

Coveting begins by noticing that they have X and I don't and wondering how come they got it and I didn't.  I have judged myself to be equally worthy, maybe better, and wonder why they have received received a blessing I did not.  Similarly, when I get angry about someone else's complaining, it is generally because I have compared myself to them and judged that what they have is better than what I have, so they have no right to complain.  I am well aware that none of these thoughts is terribly productive, but it hasn't stopped me from having them throughout my life.  However, I think I've stumbled on a way to let some of them go--stop comparing myself and give myself permission to complain.  My best examples of where this came into play for me is, surprise surprise, infertility and parenting.

People suffering with infertility often live in a black hole.  All the joy in the world can get sucked down this hole and the world becomes a horrible place that doesn't make any sense and certainly isn't fair.  When we see people get pregnant easily, we wonder how come we have to have it hard.  When mothers who have already shown they cannot take care of children are given more, we are left to question whether anything makes sense.  And when someone who is pregnant complains about morning sickness, we hear the snotty voice inside our head say, "You don't know how good you have it.  I would kill to have morning sickness."  But, here's the problem with that thought.  Some who struggle with infertility do get pregnant.  And, some of those folks end up suffering from hyperemesis.  But now, we've backed ourselves into a corner.  We've lost the right to acknowledge our own suffering.  We can't complain because we got exactly what we asked for.  And, worse, having been that woman, we know that if we complain, other people will judge us for it.  We know we won the infertility lotto and now we have to walk this crazy line being ridiculously happy, acting as though there is nothing to complain about with pregnancy, and not being too happy lest we be seen as rubbing it in the noses of our fellow infertility strugglers who we know just want the opportunity to feel miserable, too.  Our problem is that we shifted places on the continuum and our perspective is different from this view.

A similar struggle occurs with parenting.  All kids are different.  Some people get kids who are easy.  Some people get kids who are hard.  Some people get one kid at a time.  Some people get four.  And some of us get children with special needs.  We once again find ourselves on a continuum, comparing ourselves with other parents and our children against other kids.  We want to talk about our struggles with what is hard or be proud of our achievements, but we worry that others are saying in their head, or even out loud, "You think that's bad, my kid does x..." or "You're so lucky.  I wish my kid would do y..."

And what I came to realize (remember?) is that everything in life is a continuum.  In any given aspect--upbringing, education, employment, medical needs, wealth, whatever--there will always be someone who has it better than I do, and someone who has it worse.  I can spend my time wondering why I got what I did and someone else has it better or worse, or I can acknowledge that we all live, suffer, rejoice, and experience life differently.  By doing so, I give myself permission to acknowledge and seek comfort for my own suffering when it occurs.

This requires more work on my part, however, because I must do the same for others.  Whenever I see someone who is suffering, whether I consider them better or worse off, I need to remember to be thankful for what I have, and try to provide them comfort.  Because, when it comes time for me to seek comfort, I won't know where on the continuum the person to whom I am speaking has placed me.  And, who knows, I could be wrong.  My assessment of their place on the continuum may be way off.  But, even if I'm right, it doesn't get me anything, whereas providing comfort to someone who is suffering, regardless of their station, makes a difference.

For me, it's not that I suffer more or less, or have more or less, than someone else.  It's that what I have and experience is different, which makes comparisons useless.  Comparisons work when things are roughly equal--apples to apples, and all that.  But comparing ourselves to other people is like comparing cherries to cantaloupes; fish to carrots; or even muffins to shirts.  We are often too dissimilar for the comparison to have any real meaning.  And even if we find someone who's similar enough to call another apple, there are so many different kinds of apples, each with its own unique qualities.  We don't demand that one apple be everything to all people.  We don't tell the Granny Smith that it's inadequate because it's not a Gala.  We use different apples to eat raw than we do to make pie or applesauce.  And, from the apple's perspective, the Golden Delicious doesn't care that it's not a Honey Crisp.

I believe that God creates us differently because he has different needs.  We have different experiences because we need to be molded differently to fit where He needs us.  And, I think that He shakes His head and wonders why we spend so much time comparing ourselves to others when He worked so hard to make us all different in the first place.  And I am reminded that God calls us to Him when we are suffering--"Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."  Matthew 11:28.  He calls us all and promises to listen to our suffering and provide comfort without judgment.  All of us.  Those above and beneath.  Us and them.  It's time I start trying to do likewise.

Free Will

As I watch Lil' Bit grow and learn, I have come to understand why God would want to give us free will.  I have also come to understand the metaphor of God as father and us as children.

Infancy is wonderful.  It is full of snuggles and coos and cute faces and learning your child's personality.  But the real fun and joy, at least for me, has come as Lil' Bit got older.  The way her face lights up when she sees me.  The feeling of her little arms hugging me back.  Her crawling into my lap to read her a book.  I love that she is choosing to share time with me, choosing to give me love.  As an infant, she didn't really have a choice.  If I wanted to snuggle, we snuggled.  And there's something amazing about snuggling a little, warm lump.  But I wouldn't trade my sassy toddler who can show me affection, for anything.  I imagine that for God, it's much the same way.  The relationship is so much bigger, so much more meaningful, when it's by choice.  Both He and I get more out of a relationship where I choose to be part of it, in the same way that Lil' Bit and I have a much more intimate relationship because she can choose whether she wants me in her personal space.

I imagine that the first time she tells me she hates me, I will have a small glimpse of what God must feel like when we yell and rage at Him because we don't understand why things happen.  Getting upset is normal.  But, ultimately, we have to trust that, in the same way that we are trying to do what we think is best for our children, knowing that they will get upset because they don't understand, God does the same.  God has more knowledge and a bigger picture to look at than we do.  But we still have free will.  We can tell a child 100 times not to touch a hot stove, but ultimately, if they are persistent and choose to ignore the warnings, they will find a way to touch one.  In the same way, God attempts to guide and nudge us in the right direction, gently at first, then in less subtle ways.  But He will allow us to burn ourselves if we are persistent enough and ignore the warnings.  So, the next time I feel like God is telling me "no," I will take time to rethink my position and see if it's because God is trying to gently guide me down another path.

This new-found understanding will not prevent me from getting angry at God in the future over things I feel are wrong or unjust.  Just as it helps our children to get the anger out, it helps us to get it out, too.  But, in the end, I hope to be able to say:  "I'm sorry I got angry.  I just don't understand.  But it doesn't mean that I don't love you.  And it doesn't mean that I don't want you in my life."  And God will tell me, "Someday, you'll understand."