Don’t Forget How Badly You Once Wanted What You Have Now

Don’t Forget How Badly You Once Wanted What You Have Now

By Kateb Nuri-Alim Shunnar

Sitting here, staring at my desk and trying to make sense of life’s endless ups and downs, one thought refuses to leave me alone: Don’t forget how badly you once wanted what you have now. It’s strange how quickly we forget, isn’t it? We beg, cry, and plead for something, and the moment we get it, we treat it like an old sock forgotten at the back of the drawer. It’s like we’re wired to chase the next shiny thing, oblivious to the treasures already in our grasp.

Thinking about it takes me straight back to my childhood in New Orleans. Life wasn’t exactly a fairytale. My mom, Marva, my sister, Earraina, and I became experts at moving around the city like nomads Ursuline, Arts Street, you name it. Yet, through all the instability, my mom had this incredible knack for making something out of nothing. With chicken, eggs, and rice, she worked culinary miracles. I swear, she could’ve turned a kitchen fire into gumbo if she had to.

And let’s talk about her prayers. My mom didn’t just pray; she wrestled with the heavens. She’d kneel at the edge of her bed late at night, thinking no one could see her. But there I was, the nosy little boy peeking around the corner, listening to her pour her soul out to the Creator. “Please,” she’d whisper, “keep a roof over our heads, food on our table, and my kids safe.” Her voice was so raw and full of faith, you could practically feel it echoing off the walls.

Now, if my mom was a prayer warrior, my grandmother was a prayer marathoner. She’d pray herself to sleep, wake up mid-sentence, and pick up right where she left off. I swear, it was like she and the Creator had an ongoing group chat. Watching them taught me the value of gratitude, the kind that isn’t flashy or loud but quiet, steady, and deeply rooted.

So, naturally, I grew up learning to pray not the polite “thank-you-for-this-food” kind of prayers, but the kind where you practically wring your heart out. I’d ask the Creator for wisdom, inspiration, and, of course, the occasional miracle. And He always came through. But here’s the kicker I’d get what I asked for, and within weeks, I’d be acting like it was no big deal.

Let me paint you a picture. Imagine you’re dying of thirst, standing by a dry riverbed, begging for rain. Then, out of nowhere, the heavens open up, filling your cup. But instead of drinking, you stare at the clouds and complain, “Is that all you’ve got?” That’s exactly how I was. I’d pray for something, receive it, and almost immediately start grumbling about what I thought I still needed.

I can’t tell you how many times I prayed for jobs that I was convinced would change my life. And they did at least until I decided they weren’t good enough anymore. It’s like when a kid begs for a toy, gets it, and two weeks later, it’s collecting dust in the corner. I forgot how much I’d wanted those opportunities in the first place.

Nature, ironically, is way better at gratitude than we are. Trees don’t whine about their leaves falling off in autumn. Rivers don’t throw tantrums when the tide changes. They just keep doing their thing, trusting the process. Meanwhile, I was over here sulking because my life didn’t look exactly like I thought it should.

Of course, the universe has a way of humbling you when you start taking your blessings for granted. I’ve had plenty of moments where my neglect caused things to fall apart, forcing me to crawl back to the Creator, asking for one more chance. And you know what? He always gave it to me. Every single time.

These days, I live by something I like to call PAL Praise And Learn. Every morning, I remind myself to thank the Creator for what I have and reflect on the lessons hidden in my blessings. It’s not rocket science, but it works.

Here’s a little humor to keep it real: life is like a palindrome. It’s the same forward and backward “Was it a car or a cat I saw?” It’s in those reflective moments, looking back at where we’ve been, that we realize just how far we’ve come.

One time, I was sitting under a tree, wallowing in self-pity because my life wasn’t going as planned. Then it hit me I was like a bird perched safely on a branch during a storm, complaining that the branch wasn’t big enough. Talk about missing the point! The Creator had given me everything I needed, but I was too focused on what I thought I lacked to appreciate it.

Here’s the truth: the things we have now the jobs, the relationships, the moments of peace are the same things we once cried out for. They’re the answered prayers we were so desperate to receive. But once they become part of our daily lives, we treat them like background noise.

Let’s be real the Creator doesn’t owe us a thing. The fact that we’re alive, breathing, and able to experience this beautiful, chaotic world is a miracle in itself. Every answered prayer, every small blessing, is a reminder of His grace.

So, here’s my challenge for you (and for me): let’s start treating our lives like the gifts they are. Let’s water our gardens instead of letting them dry up from neglect. Let’s be like the sun, showing up every day with purpose, or the river, flowing no matter what obstacles it faces. Most importantly, let’s never forget how badly we once wanted what we have now.

Life’s too short to overlook the blessings right in front of us. If the sunrise never gets tired of painting the sky, we shouldn’t get tired of appreciating the gifts we’ve been given. So, next time you’re tempted to complain, take a step back, look around, and remember: you’re living the dream you once prayed for.