What's Your Problem?

“I wish we didn’t have to live next door to the church; sometimes I feel like we have no privacy.”

“I’m about to go nuts revising this book—every time I fix something, a new problem crops up.”

“I’m not jealous of people, whose grand kids live near them, but I sure would love to be closer to mine—they are seven hours away, and we only see them three or four times a year.”

I’ve said all of the above. More than once. 

It occurred to me recently that all of them are high-class problems. 

Compared to most of the people in the world, I have it easy.


I have a home (the above photo is not mine, but we live in a lovely one provided by our church family). 


God gave me the talent to write books. And revise them. 



I have three terrific, talented grands and enough money to travel and see them. 

So—what am I complaining about? Lord, forgive me. 

Ever find yourself whining about your problems, then find someone worse off than you?

High Class Problems, Chapter 2

When I wrote a post last year about High Class Problems,
I asked the Lord to forgive me for complaining about the stress of book revisions
and the pain of living ten hours from our grandkids.

Since then, I’ve encountered these people:


1. A dad who’s nearly blind because of diabetes raising his four kids alone after his wife took off with an online lover;

2. The sister-in-law of an acquaintance having to continue to work while going through chemo, because she’s the sole insurance carrier of the family;

3. A dear friend visiting her son in a psychiatric hospital the week before Christmas to tell him that his grandpa—her dad—passed away.

Again, I feel overwhelmed by the blessings of health, family, and freedom I often take for granted.

1. So, we hit a deer and our car was in the shop for four days—we had a church van to use, and the insurance covered all but $250 of the repairs. Our car now smiles in the sun, showing off her face-lift.


2. So, our son could be with us at Christmas for three days—we have a healthy, brilliant son who loves us enough to drive ten hours over snowy roads to visit us.

3. So, I’m stilled bummed that I can’t see my darling grandkids more than three times a year—but they cannon into us when we arrive, knocking us over with joy. Perhaps if we were next door to them, we’d not get that royal treatment. We are heroes to them, and that just feel s so spectacular.

Once again, Lord, forgive me for complaining about my high class problems. Please use me to lift up those who are broken and hurting, showing them the way to You.

When you are tempted to grumble about your leaky ship, does the Lord show you someone in a sinking boat, to give you perspective?

High-Class Problems

“I wish we didn’t have to live next door to the church; sometimes I feel like we have no privacy.”

“I’m about to go nuts revising this book—every time I fix something, a new problem crops up.”

“I’m not jealous of people, whose grandkids live near them, but I sure would love to be closer to mine—they are ten hours away, and we only see them three times a year.”

I’ve said all of the above. More than once.

It occurred to me recently that all of them are high-class problems.

Compared to most of the people in the world, I have it easy.


I have a home (the above photo is not mine, but we live in a lovely one).


God gave me the talent to write books. And revise them.



I have three gorgeous, healthy grandkids and enough money to travel and see them.

So—what am I complaining about? Lord, forgive me.

Ever find yourself whining about your problems, then find someone worse off than you?