Abundance is a tricky thing. It seems the more you have, the more you want.
Take restaurants, for example. My favorite restaurant when I was a little girl was Burger King. We didn’t eat out much in the 80’s, but when we did, it was two-for-one Whoppers on payday . When I moved to the city to go to college, I discovered a great little Greek restaurant, a swanky Thai place, and The Cheesecake Factory, where one slice of creamy decadence costs more than getting a #1 my way.
The more vacation you get, the more you want. The county fair was a thrill. Until that first time I went to Six Flags over Georgia where The Great American Scream Machine put the Himalaya to shame. Now that we have touched the Georgia sky, the county fair has become a small world.
Our first “house” was a one-bedroom, third-floor apartment on the mostly good side of town. I was a thrilled, young bride, proud to fill all four of the cabinets in our kitchen. We worked our way up in number of bedrooms and number of square feet until we finally built our dream house. And still, we found ourselves looking around at bigger houses, dreaming of more.
At what point does abundance crowd out gratitude?