A memory

A memory just now of a blind child in a classical music room of a record store, a child full of joy, running and touching things, just giving off a playful joy, and remembering how the child broke my heart at the time, seeing him, that memory just now convicted me in what I called in prayer to God just now my accumulated self-centeredness and miasma of self-obsessed internal whining and complaining, and some of it not so internal, and realizing how much I have and have been given by God, and how valuable life itself is, and having this universe, the natural world, everything, and I repented of it and asked forgiveness. This is not vain, dramatic self-accusing, it is a real acknowledgement of self-centeredness and complaining that I (or anyone) can get into to where it becomes miasma-like and deeply unself-aware and not God-glorifying.