I complain about my job a lot. I let it stress me out. I wish for something else. I was grumbling about it to God this morning on my way to work.
As I climbed the stairs up from the subway, I saw a homeless man there, his belongings in plastic bags piled up around him, his head in his hands in obvious distress and heartache. He looked like he had lost all hope -- and that the world had forgotten him.
I said a prayer for that man and for my ungrateful heart. I prayed as I hustled off to my well-paying job in my warm office with a view of the city, in a building with a lobby lined with marble.
I am unbelievably lucky to have my job, to work with people I like, to do work that I enjoy (most of the time), and to be paid well for that work. My job enables me to provide food, clothing, and shelter for my family and then some. Somehow I lost sight of that.
I'm thankful for my job today -- and for being humbled when I lost my spirit of thankfulness.