After traveling for an entire day with the wife and kids, dinner at the airport O' Charley's was, well how do I say this, not relaxing. I looked over at a business man sitting by himself, doodling on his computer, his fizzing beer boasting his autonomy, and I found myself thinking, "must be nice to be traveling alone." As if he heard my thoughts, he glanced over at me, and I had the sense that maybe he was coveting my position, missing his family and lamenting over his must-travel occupation.
I travel alone, I miss my family
I bring them along, I covet solitude
A single mom longs for a husband
An abused wife is hopelessly trapped
A working mom can't shake her guilt
A mom at home goes stir-crazy
The poor want to be rich
The rich want to be richer
One woman doesn't seem to satisfy him
A trapped wife fantasizes about the single life
We all want what we don't have
We don't want what we have
The grass is always greener on the other side
Until you get there and realize it too must be mowed
Perhaps the last of the commandments is the most potent. The forbidden lust of covetousness is self-idolatry in the strongest form (see Dallas Willard's "Renovation of the Heart"). 'Do not covet your neighbor's house, wife, or stuff' is really a call to a life of contentment - a kind of life that is thankful for what we have, allows us to live in the moment, and challenges us to make the most of every opportunity we are granted.
