Once in a while, news of the day can render whatever discomfort we are feeling to be irrelevant, if not laughable.
Here’s what happened to me on Monday morning.
I was delivering my weekly run of Meals on Wheels to shut-in residents of Princeton. I left the house wearing just my shirt, a pair of shorts and sandals. I picked up the meals to deliver at a local church and went on my way. I made the first stop, chatted up the gentleman who is always waiting for me.
I drove to the second residence. On the way, it started to sprinkle. The rain worsened the farther along I drove. By the time I delivered my second meal, the sky had opened up. It poured. I got soaked.
I grumbled to myself as I drove to the third location. Damn rain, I wish it would stop … or so I muttered under my breath.
Then the news came on the radio, which I had turned on my truck to National Public Radio. The reporter told me of the suffering in Central Texas. The raging river had killed dozens of residents. Many of the victims were girls attending a church camp in Kerrville, It had destroyed thousands of homes. The deluge roared down the Guadalupe River bed at enormous speed, sweeping away trees, homes, big and small vehicles and presumably people.
That was the moment I realized I was bitching about something that didn’t matter one damn bit. Why am I complaining because I am getting wet from rainfall.
Needless to say, I realized in real time that my concerns about wringing my clothes from the rainfal paled in comparison to the unfathomable tragedy that has gripped our Central Texas neighbors.
I learned my lesson.