A Confession

Hi, my name is John, and I'm a complainer. You show me just about anything, and I can find something wrong with it. I have the spiritual gift of complaint.

I call it different things: discernment, critical thinking, observation. It's complaining.

I'm sitting here in Starbucks with my headphones on because I don't like their taste in music. How many times do we need to hear Burl Ives singing, "Have a Holly-Jolly Christmas"? Never mind the fact that I'm sitting in a dry, warm place with a full belly and a laptop computer. I just want them to stop the horror that is Burl Ives.

Oh, and I'm also ungrateful. I think the two may go together. I rarely say thank you to my barista. I never thank God for my ears. Or my taste buds. I just take things like that for granted.

Whew! That felt good. Just knowing that there are four or five people who know this about me helps.

Okay, here goes...I'm going to attempt a thankful sentence with no complaining: There is nothing wrong with "Bach's Violin Concerto in A Minor," and I am grateful for headphones and http://www.mostlyclassical.com/.