I was driving down the road in a hurry to my daughters’ Valentine’s Day party for school when I noticed the blue fuzzies all over the place. I had spent hours alone preparing the cards they would exchange with their friends, and in addition to making sure they looked adorable as always, I had also attempted to make my haggard self look halfway descent. I had put on a really cute shirt that was still completely white because it was new, yet now it was covered with tiny bits of blue fuzz. I knew immediately what it was; this wasn’t the first time this had happened.
My husband liked to take our eldest daughter to school in his robe, and while I’m sure that felt super cozy for him, it was super annoying for me. The thing shed worse than a thirteen year old cat, and every time he wore that puffy blue robe it passed along about a billion cobalt hair balls to the driver’s side seatbelt. Hence why I was now wearing an unwanted banner of blue fuzzballs like some queen of the smurf beauty pageant winner.
I couldn’t help it, y’all. When I looked down at all those stubborn stray threads marring my white blouse I about bust out loud with laughter. He probably had no idea. And it was at that moment I thought of this inconvenience in a way I’m not sure I had before. I wondered to myself how I would react to those annoying fuzzballs if my husband were gone. Like, if I couldn’t fuss at him about it later, how would I react? If he was in fact gone from this earth before his time what would my thoughts be on those little blue pieces of his robe stuck to the seatbelt? I pondered, shouldn’t I look at most things this way? It certainly put it into perspective.
Things of annoyance paled in the light of physical presence, and so those tiny idiosyncrasies that made me cringe were of little consequence when held against the gift of having my one true love beside me. In other words, smelly socks became a blessing. Seriously.
I imagined folding laundry. This was something I especially abhorred. My husband had a tendency, or rather an always-ency, to wear two undershirts and two pair of underwear (boxers and briefs) on a daily basis. That made for a lot of wash. But what if I went to fold his shirts and it happened to be the last time? In the case of his passing from this earth I would cry because of no more laundry. Isn’t that crazy to think about? In an instant something that seemed so mundane, or even frustrating, could become something you longed to have more of.
The stray pieces of blue robe would become precious, the paper plates left beside the garbage can endearing, and the stubborn beard hairs stuck to the side of the sink especially sweet. Perception. It changed everything.
It made the trivial things more clearly trivial, and the blessings more abundantly blissful. It downplayed the inconveniences for what they really were, and it highlighted the gifts we’re given in simple ways each day that we often take for granted.
What if I didn’t have my Valentine?
That thought made roses seem pretty unimportant, and it brought to mind questions like, “does he know how much I care? Like, really and truly care?!”
Looking down at those stubborn, blue fuzzies in a new light made me realize how lucky I was to have them. They were a concrete reminder of the strong, amazing husband and father who had sat in the same seat just earlier in the day. They were a vibrant sign of how blessed I was to share my life with someone who complimented and completed me so wonderfully. The point was everything didn’t have to be perfect for you to realize just how perfect your life was. You just had to decide to see it that way.