The Weight of Gratitude

I was at church yesterday and while I was supposed to be praying I was thinking about gratitude. I know that problems are problems and whether you have money, education, or a good network of friends and family, your problems are real. But are they? For instance: I am going through a period where I have to decide about what I want to do in the future. I'm graduating seminary in the spring and I am going to be force to make a decision about what job I seek.

For me this is a problem. I feel angst about defining myself by what I do. I feel conflict because I have a variety of interests and I don't want to select one interest at the cost of another. I don't know if I'll be able to balance making money and doing what I love. I don't know if I'll be able to secure a position with good medical benefits. This is my big problem.

Yet, many people around the world would love to have my "problem." They would gladly exchange their life filled with abuse, or war, or disease, or death or all of the above, for my existential angst. This is what I'm thinking when we pray for someone struggling with "family problems" or "finding someone to teach Sunday school." And I'm thinking, doesn't, at some point, our gratitude overwhelm our problems? Most of the people (myself included) worshiping were employed, in good health, and surrounded by their families: minus physical or mental illness, what do we have to complain about (under the guise of prayer)?

Mostly, I am frustrated at my own inability to maintain any sense of joy and gratitude for longer than about 35 minutes. I don't mean to come down on church or prayer or other people. It's just easier than confessing that I suckle my angst until I'm fat and content.

I'm going to go spend the rest of the day trying to get out of my own head and tell myself, "You have a wonderful life!"