Grumbler

Picture this: On a Monday morning, I'm standing in front of the coffee machine, silently fuming as it takes its sweet time to brew my life-saving elixir. My coworker, one who has mastered the art of calling at the bad time rings me. I mumble a forced “hello” to let on that I didn’t want to be engaged. In my head, I'm concocting a monologue that would put Shakespeare to shame—all about the cruel tyranny of Mondays and the injustice of unwanted callers.
 
Cheery chirping voice: Well, looks like somebody has the Monday blues.
 
Ouch! The truth hurt, so I retorted, “and especially because you called.”
 
Voice: “That’s not very nice, I’ll call another time.(hangs up)
 
I was terribly sorry and embarrassed. I found my foot in my mouth as usual, and what a testimony for a professing Christian. It's at that precise moment that it hits me, like my hot coffee was doused on my head: I might be a habitual grumbler - hence my reflections.
 
I know in the past I wasn’t a grumbler. I was known to friends as “Ms. Toxic Optimism” and as an “Unrealistic Positivist” to my daughter – until recent changes in my job. Using contemporary lingo, my job is my biggest trigger that renders me “dysregulated”. I run like a headless chicken before reporting, and I countdown the hours and minutes before my duty ends. I worked for the weekend and often find my self swimming in the deep end. I look forward to hump day knowing it will go downhill from there. I’ve labelled Thursday as the eve of freedom and then finally TGIF – Thank God it’s Friday. What awful work ethics, or the lack thereof.
 
Let me try to justify why I gripe, hoping I’ll win some readers to my grumbling side. I’m totally physically blind and the system I use for work is not fully accessible. Well, some apps are accessible but worse than a labyrinth to navigate. Because there are too many processes that regularly change, I struggle to figure out how to complete a task. Head-scratching is often the solution. Although there’s support, I’m tired  of asking people for help because I feel I need a sustainable fix to my issues. There was a time when accessibility issues were addressed shortly after reported, but this reversed when society’s concept of inclusion changed. I guess people who are blind are not so much the priority today. Have I justified my grumbling attitude yet?
 
Nevertheless, I have allowed this weed of bitter discontent with my job ruin my garden of life. Today grumbling impacts most areas of my existence. When it rains, I can’t hang out in the backyard. In the summer, it’s too hot, and my daughter had convinced me that UV is lethal. I scowl when my husband stocks the pantry with chocolates but throw hate speech if he doesn’t. Whatever the situation, I find something to grumble about. 

​One time, I questioned God about why He asked Noah to take a pair of mosquitos in the ark. And don’t even get me started about my weight and my perennial effort to set loose the skinny woman imprisoned inside me. If only I get paid to grumble, I’d be the wealthiest woman in the world. Bottom line, grumbling has become a full blown epidemic in my life and I want to address it before it becomes a pandemic affecting most of our community. After all, I know I’m not alone. I have yet to meet a non-grumbling person.
 
The book of Numbers paints a full picture of grumbling and how it angers God. While leading the Israelites to the promised land, God heard nothing but incessant grumbling.
 
Israelites: “Seriously, God, manna again? We want the menu changed.”
 
And God’s like, “I just split the Red Sea for you and now you’re complaining about the catering?”
 
I imagine God saying, “Alright, you grumbling bunch, you want drama? I’ll give you drama,”
 
And just like that, a two-week road trip from Egypt to the Promised Land turns into a never-ending, tortuous pilgrimage stretched to a whopping forty years.
 
I feel like I walked out of the pages of the book of Numbers and updated my grumbler software for today’s times. The update made me a relevant grumbler, but my heart is just as evil as those Israelites in the book. I haven’t met a poisonous snake nor have I dropped dead after that time when I ate some leftover Cornish chicken meat only because I’m in the grace period.
 
“After all, I grumble because I’m advocating for a cause,” I justified.
 
However, the unrelenting small voice was urging me to exchange my grumbler identity with His joyful one. After some restless nights wrestling with the voice encouraging me to address my mistaken heart, I agreed with the voice that I am wrong, and I needed to change my mind about basic issues. So I clamber to the psychologist couch of my Heavenly Father who has searched and known me. His Word pointed out some behaviors I needed to work on. There’s no doubt He has forgiven them, I just needed to exercise the grace He has given me to change – things I’ll discuss in the next article.
 
 
Reflection Questions
 
What do you grumble about?
Why do you grumble about these things?