Contentment

Are we somehow something less than we should be if we like our lives the way they are? It certainly seems that way, according to the general consensus, but not according to the apostle Paul, who learned to be content "whatever state he was in." Is there some kind of universal standard for contentment? One might think so, based on how many people are dissatisfied with lives that aren't even their own.

Last night as I talked to my friend, she commented on how content she was with her imperfect life, yet how unhappy her mother was with it, and we wondered...Why should her mother care about all the quirks and glitches in her life if she was happy with it herself? Does contentment make her some kind of underachiever? Not ambitious enough? Not that she is problem-free, but contentment, cliche as it may be, is a choice, and perhaps it is more an indicator of maturity than of ambition or the lack thereof.

My friend is happy in her home. She is happy in her life as a wife and a mother and a grandmother. A gardener and a crafter, a teacher of her children, a hospitable friend. And what might be better contentment than family life at home?