Yesterday, when we met for our Sunday walk, my son found a nail stuck in one of my tires. Later, my hair dryer died after blowing only 1 minute of hot air, a tenth of what I needed. A few hours after that, the driver's door on my truck refused to unlock while I was out on errands. My impulsive question: "Why is all this happening?"
Back home, not more than a half hour after climbing out from the passenger side of my truck, I came across this quote: We have no right to ask when a sorrow comes, 'Why did this happen to me?' unless we ask the same question for every joy that comes our way.
Well if I were to do that, I'd be spending more time thinking about all of the joyful moments and gifts that are constantly flowing my way. I'd be focused on the 90-97% of my body that functions and repairs itself ingeniously without my conscious effort. If I asked "Why is this happening to me?" every time I feel joyful, I might begin to think that I'm someone special and that I deserve all the goodness of life, just by the fact of my being alive.
What would happen if I believed that?
Ha! I'm beginning to see the writing on the wall, and it appears to be my own.