When frustrations come, don’t overlook the blessings

What if instead of immediately listing our frustrations, we paused to notice the blessing we've quietly come to expect?

I take many things for granted. In fact, I’ve forgotten just how much the amenities of modern life have revolutionized our daily routines.

Recently, as my daughters and I discussed a historical biography, we were reminded that not too long ago, women rose before dawn to get the fire started, draw water from the well, grind grain, knead bread, prepare lye for soap making and put the loom in working order—not to mention tending gardens, caring for animals and feeding their families. Phew! I’m exhausted thinking that toiling from sunup to sundown was a typical day, and often the work was still not finished.

There was no online inspiration motivating them to spring clean, declutter or organize. Take time for yourself, was not a common mantra. What we now consider basic conveniences would have seemed unimaginable luxuries. Yet, we live in a culture where comfort is readily available, and often we don’t realize how much we depend on this comfort until it’s gone.

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I take many things for granted. In fact, I’ve forgotten just how much the amenities of modern life have revolutionized our daily routines.

Recently, as my daughters and I discussed a historical biography, we were reminded that not too long ago, women rose before dawn to get the fire started, draw water from the well, grind grain, knead bread, prepare lye for soap making and put the loom in working order—not to mention tending gardens, caring for animals and feeding their families. Phew! I’m exhausted thinking that toiling from sunup to sundown was a typical day, and often the work was still not finished.

There was no online inspiration motivating them to spring clean, declutter or organize. Take time for yourself, was not a common mantra. What we now consider basic conveniences would have seemed unimaginable luxuries. Yet, we live in a culture where comfort is readily available, and often we don’t realize how much we depend on this comfort until it’s gone.

That’s why, when my old dishwasher was disconnected a week before my new one was scheduled to arrive, and that week stretched into two, I began complaining mightily about a sink full of dishes. Then something even more disruptive happened: our air conditioning broke in the middle of a sweltering North Carolina summer.

My bad attitude was pervasive.  

Apparently, I had come to believe it was my inalienable right to have dishes washed and cool air delivered at the push of a button. So, I did what many of us do when life becomes uncomfortable. I’m not proud of it, but I focused on everything that wasn’t working.

Then God gently began to shift my perspective.

During those two weeks, I was reminded of the incredible blessing of technology and all the modern conveniences I routinely enjoy. More importantly, I made a conscious choice to rearrange my attitude.

As I hand-washed dishes for the second week in a row, I began thanking the Lord for each child, friend and neighbor who would eat from those plates. I praised Him that those cups served more than beverages; they had facilitated conversations and deep fellowship around our table. I chuckled at the black stains on the bottom of my stainless steel pot because they brought back fond memories of Thanksgivings gone by—including the year of our infamous “charcoaled” mashed potatoes.

And after dinner, instead of indoors, we sat on the front porch much like our many forefathers did after a long day of labor. Somewhere along the way, I stopped focusing on the inconvenience and started embracing the lesson hidden within it. I discovered that time spent with family can be a gift when distractions are removed. I laughed more. I talked more. We played games and shared conversations that might never have happened if everyone had retreated to separate rooms and separate screens.

Most importantly, God revealed something deeper.  

He used those weeks to remind me how quickly a want can become a need. I was grumbling about first world problems—absolute luxury items. In a culture overflowing with abundance, it’s easy to lose sight of that distinction. We become so accustomed to comfort, we forget how much of what we call a necessity is actually a blessing.

Scripture reminds us in 1 Thessalonians 5:18 NIV, “Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” Gratitude isn’t reserved for seasons when everything is working perfectly. It’s cultivated when we recognize God’s goodness even in the middle of inconvenience.

Perhaps that’s why temporary discomfort can be such a powerful teacher. It exposes our dependence on things that were never meant to satisfy us. Discomfort redirects our attention to the gifts we’ve overlooked. Gratitude truly has a way of drawing our hearts back to the real Giver, doesn’t it?

As women juggling homes, work, relationships and endless responsibilities, it’s easy to focus on what isn’t going according to plan. I’ve done this too many times. So what if, instead of immediately listing our frustrations, we paused to notice the blessings we’ve quietly come to expect? Running water. Electricity. Food. A roof over our head. Meaningful relationships. Everyday provisions that much of the world still lives without.

The next time everyday life inconveniences me, I know I’ll remember those two weeks without a dishwasher and air conditioning. Not because they were enjoyable, but because they reminded me that gratitude often begins where entitlement ends.

A black and white portrait of DaySpring contributing author Jennifer Schmidt.

Jen Schmidt encourages women to embrace both the beauty and bedlam of their everyday lives. A popular speaker, worship leader and author of "Just Open the Door," Jen lives in North Carolina with her husband, five children and a sofa for anyone who needs it. Find her work at http://www.beautyandbedlam.com.