quit your whining

I have a recent date night confession.

It had been an stressful week, and we hadn't had much time alone.

On the way to the restaurant we had 30 minutes in the car together.

I vented all the way there.

Poor guy.

He had no where to run; nowhere to hide.

I had a captive audience for all my misery.

Sad thing happened as I vented and he drove...

we ran over a little bird.

What's up with that?

Birds are smarter than that.

They always escape the path of an oncoming car.

I don't know about you, but I don't usually worry about hitting birds.

Weird.

But it didn't phase me.  I kept right on dumping.

Dinner was lovely.

I was on my best behavior the whole time,

I promise.

But back in the van...

I stooped to new lows and threw myself a pity party all the way home.

I know. It's shameful.

And you know what's worse...

I brought my husband into my muck

 and soon he was right there with me, slinging the mud around.

We were a pitiful, pitiful sight.

Then,

 right after I said something along the lines of,

"If only my parents ..."

SPLAT!

ANOTHER BIRD

from out of nowhere.

Coincidence?

I don't know.

But the immediate message was this:

"Quit your whining...

YOU'VE GOT ME."

~ ~ ~

I'm not suggesting that God throws birds at me,

but I didn't say much after that.

I'd hate for another innocent bird to lose his life on account of

 my ungrateful heart.