A man prayed to God, begging Him to take away the cross he was burdened with, and replace it with another.
That night, the man was mystically transported into Heaven, where St. Peter stood to meet him.
“Come with me, brother,” said St. Peter, leading the man into a large warehouse, filled to overflowing with crosses of all sorts. “The Lord God has answered your prayers. You may choose any of these crosses instead of the one you were given.”
The man looks around with joyful disbelief, but which soon turns to despair. This cross is too splintery, that cross is too massive, many of them seem to be covered with wicked looking spikes and thorns. Not a single one looks like something he could carry.
Then, he spots it. Over by the door is a small cross, smooth and generally acceptable looking. He points to it, asking St. Peter if he may choose that one.
St. Peter looks at him for a long moment, then says, “But brother, that is the one you had originally.”
I try to remember this story every single day when I get to complaining to God about the crosses He saw fit to give me. They seem so hard to bear, but I think about what I could have, and what Jesus DID have, and I manage to keep my mouth shut- mostly.