Battling Discontentment

Last week, Jason and I were in Manchester, England, for a missionary retreat.  It’s a time for several missionary families to get together and encourage one another in the Lord.  There’s food, services, and of course, fellowship.  All in all, it’s a wonderful event.

Before leaving, Jason and I cleaned out the refrigerator to make sure we didn’t come home to any surprises.  One of the things we needed to toss out was a partial loaf of bread already showing signs of molding. (In this damp environment, bread products do NOT last long.).

As we have many birds in our area, Jason decided to break the bread into chunks and toss it into the empty field behind us.  The bread would be gone, and the birds would be thrilled.  Win, win, right?  The one thing we didn’t consider was that our little terrier is highly food-motivated.  I’m talking, this girl is serious about food.

After watching Jason throw the bread into the backfield, Tess determined she had to have some (or all of it, if she could manage).  For the next few days, that little booger found every little crevice and hole and cranny she could to escape from the backyard into the field.  Over and over, we called her back, reprimanded her, and did another securing of the fencing, but her persistence prevailed to the point we had to close her inside and deny her access to the outside unless one of us was with her.

Tess is the most easygoing dog we’ve ever had.  She’s so chill.  But something about seeing that bread out of her reach stirred up her discontent.  It didn’t matter that she had plenty of food inside.  It didn’t matter that she had a warm, safe environment to stay in.  She seemed to have forgotten that Jason had also given her a large piece of the bread.  The only thing on her mind was getting to that bread, no matter what.  Discontentment had taken over!

I’ll be honest; it was stressful enough trying to get ready for the trip to Manchester without having to deal with our little Houdini.  I was frustrated with her and couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t let it go.  Why wasn’t she satisfied with all the love, attention, care, and food that we give her?   Why did she insist she needed more?

Halfway through the retreat, I began to understand.  With my various health issues, I can’t go like I used to.  I can push for a while, but pretty soon, my body starts to push back, and that’s precisely what happened during the retreat.  When we finally fell into bed late Wednesday night, I felt like I had been run over by a train. . .several times.  My body hurt from head to toe.  I was sick to my stomach and dizzy.  I didn’t feel well at all.

Thursday didn’t include any scheduled activities for the ladies until the evening meal and service, so many of the ladies grouped to go shopping or explore the surrounding area.  I, on the other hand, spent the entire day in my hotel room.  I slept late.  I enjoyed some quiet Bible study time.  I read my book. I even had my lunch delivered to the hotel, so I didn’t have to go anywhere.  I was tired, and my body needed time to recover.

At first, I accepted my condition.  I know me.  I know my weaknesses.  I know what my body has to go through daily to function as normally as possible.  But seeing everyone else seem so happy, lively, and energized, it didn’t take long for the discontentment to settle into my heart.  Why can’t I have energy like that?  Why can’t I keep up with everyone else?  Do you know how much more I could accomplish if I weren’t completely exhausted by 6:00 in the evening?  And so, the poor-pitiful-me party began, and suddenly, I understood Tess.

How often have I gone outside my boundaries to gain something I wanted?  I know better than to push myself so hard, but I tread beyond my boundary in trying to prove that I could keep up.  Embarrassed by my limitations, I tried to fake that I was good and had it all together.  But we can only pretend for so long.  The truth will eventually come out.  And I know that, but like Tess, I was so consumed with discontentment that I was blinded to everything else.  I wanted so much to be like everyone else that I failed to be thankful for who I am and the many blessings I do have.

It seems Tess finally learned her lesson.  The friend who stayed at our home and watched over her while we were away said she never left the yard once.  In his words, “She was perfect.”  Maybe there’s hope for me, too!  And it all begins with counting my blessings.