I sometimes forget just how amazing life can be.

When I awoke from my slumbers earlier today it was one of those chilly spring mornings, where the wind nips at you but could hardly be considered biting. But I didn’t know that – I was tucked warmly away in my bed in a climate-controlled setting.

I recognized the chill in the air only when I rolled over and checked the weather on my iPhone: the same iPhone whose alarm had awakened me moments before. Before I rolled back the blankets, I was able to check my e-mail, Facebook and Twitter – all on the iPhone; I didn’t even need a computer.

I walked to the sink and turned on the water. It was clear and cold, cold enough that a splash on my face proved invigorating. It wasn’t muddy, it wasn’t brown and it wasn’t brimming with bacteria. It was clean. It was safe.

I brushed my teeth – teeth that are clean and straight thanks to technologies to which many don’t have access. I showered. At first the water was too cold, so I turned it up. Then the water was too hot, so I turned it down. I got out and dried off with a towel that was clean and dry, thanks to little physical effort of my own – although I did push the button on the dryer the night before.

I encountered a moment of indecision as I was forced to pick out the clothes I would wear that day – clothes that were clean and free of holes and tears.

I walked on two healthy legs and used two arms that work like they should. Every step was free of pain. I was breathing clean air easily. I didn’t hurt, and I didn’t suffer.

And that was just the first five minutes of my day. Yet despite all of that, I have the audacity to complain?

I complain about going to classes that will make me among the most educated in the world, and that is with just a bachelor’s degree. I complain about Chapel even though it makes me grow spiritually. I complain about ACU, one of the best colleges in Texas. I complain about the slow Internet that is not really that slow at all.

I walked into the grocery store with my roommate last week complaining about life in general. At the door, a boy in a wheelchair handed me a store brochure – he was grinning from ear to ear, content in his circumstances.

And I have the nerve to complain. Life is amazing – I just tend to forget that.