I’m easily dissatisfied with my things. I look at my Ikea office chairs and only see what’s wrong with them and what I’d rather have. The gash in my breakfast table annoying me, a gash I could fix, but I don’t. Instead of enjoying my living room arm chairs, I’m frustrated with it’s square arms, because I’d rather have a balloon chair.

I scroll through Pinterest and Instagram bombarded with perfect pictures. The lighting is just right, the artwork is impeccable, houses polished and designed to perfection. And I feel sub par, shamed by my hand me down white nightstands covered in black dog hair. Frustrated with my flickering Good Will lamp.

SMH. If only I had an unlimited budget or a large chunk of cash. That would make me happy, right? If only I could design to my heart’s content. If only I could have everything I ever wanted, that would be enough, right?

I know better. Time and time again I’ve given myself exactly what I want, and yes, it makes me happy. I’m pleased with my purchase. Pleased with my shiny new item. But it’s newness fades. And there is always something better around the corner.

At the end of the day, I realize, I’ve yet to master gratitude. I’m displeased with my things, because I don’t appreciate what I have. I don’t see their value anymore. And I am keenly aware of how this behavior evolves. So I check myself. I wrestle with myself.

Because what happens when the newness wears off of things that matter? What happens when I view others as items and objectify them? When I get frustrated and shamed by my lack luster things, I lose focus on the things that really matter. I spend more time focused on beautiful things, shiny, new things, rather than my family.

And when I step back and watch my dog babies smile for hours because I took them on a walk, I find joy. When I listen to David’s day and find joy in his joy, I find contentment. When I observe the raw beauty of my surroundings, the changing seasons, the mountainous terrain to the north, and the vibrant city to the south, I find peace. My heart is full. My heart is at peace.

I come home and my square arm chairs don’t bother me as much. I look at my things and I’m reminded how blessed I really am. I watch my family interact with each other. Rosie giving Emmy sweet kisses, David lighting up with happiness and laughter, while he snuggles all three of our girls (Emmy, Rosie, and Brielle Bear) and I step back and look at how rich in love I am, and I think to myself, “This is enough. This is joy. This is what matters.”