Several weeks ago, the passenger-side seat belt in my car jammed. My handy husband was unable to fix it even with the assistance of YouTube videos. I was more than aggravated about it. Though I mostly drive in solitude, I was occasionally forced to put a passenger in the back seat and drive while mimicking an uncompensated chauffeur. I knew seat belt replacement would be a hassle: making the mechanic shop appointment, ordering the part, and waiting for installation, all the while suffering the annoyance of not having the use of my car. I stewed about the automotive gods heaping ill will on me: weren’t they aware that I didn’t have time to deal with mechanical repair issues?
I bemoaned my fate and the inconvenience of it all and gnashed my teeth. I surrendered myself to the prospect and process of getting the seat belt replaced. Then, while driving to work in full-throttle resignation mode, my car suddenly lurched and almost stalled out. It seemed like the transmission was confused about what gear it was supposed to be in -- the mechanical equivalent of walking into a room while distracted and forgetting why you are there. In a flash I realized two things: (1) I was about to incur a major car expense; and (2) I would give anything to merely have a seat belt problem. In that moment I was reminded, once again, of a lesson that I never seem to learn no matter how many times it is taught to me: be grateful for life’s inconveniences because it could be worse.
There are more elegant and pithy ways to express this adage. A famous phrase attributed to several people, including Mahatma Gandhi, describes it as, “I cried because I had no shoes, then I met a man who had no feet.” Someone more mature than I wrote, “Always look on the bright side of life. Happiness comes when we stop complaining about the troubles we have and offer thanks for the troubles we don’t have.”
In the past, I’ve groused about the cost of a new furnace without considering the luxury of living in a warm and inviting home. I’ve fretted about a family member’s significant other without heeding how devastated he would be if they broke up. I’ve whined about work without reflecting on the luxury of working with talented and hilarious folks. I’ve griped about the indignities of health exams without accounting for the blessings of wellness. I’ve grumbled about running in cold and wet weather without remembering the privilege of being able to move through the world with proficiency.
My recent automobile adversities have given rise to an epiphany, and Winnie the Pooh’s character, Eeyore, put it all in perspective: “It’s snowing still,” said Eeyore gloomily, “and freezing. However,” he said brightening up a little, “we haven’t had an earthquake lately.” [1]
With that in mind, I’m going to put on my big girl pants and figure out whether it makes sense to put thousands of dollars into a car with 160,000 odometer miles or cut my losses and buy a new one. I figure I have a limited window to trade in my car before the engine overheats, and the brakes fail.
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[1] Winnie the Pooh, Milne, A. A. (Alan Alexander), 1882-1956. Winnie-The-Pooh. [New York]: Harper Children's Audio, 2003.s