Frustrations are a dime a dozen, and they come in every flavor. You may define yours differently than I do, and that’s to be expected. In truth, what frustrates me could be less than a minor irritation for you. But since this is my column, I trust you’ll find common ground despite our differences.

 

What frustrates me? Some days, when I’m in a grumpy mood, the answer might be, “let me count the ways.” Of course, it’s all a matter of perspective and dependent on circumstances. Every day is different. Worse, many of my frustrations are first-world problems—meaning they are not worthy of the angst I give them.

 

Consider, for example, a flat tire or a blowout. Is there ever a convenient time for that? No one ever schedules it.

 

When I was a teenager, Dad provided me with a car to drive. It was his in name, but mine in responsibility and upkeep. In other words, if it needed gas, I paid for it. If it needed tires, I bought them.

 

Back then, I wasn’t swimming in money, and the least expensive tire (read that as cheapest) you could buy was a retread (some of you may have to use Google). I would pull up to the nearest retread provider (mine was on Washington Street in Vicksburg), pay a few bucks to get the new tire installed, and be on my way. It was cost-effective in the short term but a poor investment in the long run.

 

If you haven’t used Google yet, know that the tread on the tire was glued on. Eventually, the glue failed, and the tread was lost. Sometimes it happened all at once in a spectacular rubber-flying blowout. At other times, I pulled to the side of the road and sliced off a piece of tread that was flapping louder than I could play the radio. That only happened a time or two before the tire was gone.

 

Inevitably, buying a retread tire guaranteed the aforementioned blowout or flat tire. I should have been born rich. I blame my daddy for that.

 

At any rate, one thing I’ve learned ever so slowly is this: most of life’s little frustrations just aren’t worth the inflated value we assign them. Better yet, many of them could be entirely avoided with the right priorities and perspectives.

 

This past Sunday at church, we sang the old hymn, “Count Your Many Blessings.” I needed to hear and sing it. Maybe one day we will be able to see the reality that our blessings far outweigh our frustrations.

 

In the meantime, here’s to good tires and better blessings!

 

“Consider it a great joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you experience various trials, because you know that the testing of your faith produces endurance. And let endurance have its full effect, so that you may be mature and complete, lacking nothing.” (James 1:2-4)