Most days are jam-packed with to-do lists (which I might complete half of), washing mounds of dishes and laundry, and refereeing wrestling matches in the living room. But on that rare, oh-so-sweet occasion that I actually have a few minutes ALL to myself (this may or may not be a dream), I like to stuff myself like a burrito into the recliner, blankets and pillows surrounding every inch of my body with my face peeking out and find something good to read. Lately, my reading has been less focused on actual books though (I only have minutes, people) and more directed toward blog posts of fellow bloggers. But hey, reading these blog posts is practically like reading a comedy, drama, romance, action, and recipe book all rolled into one. While reading one post, I can be snorting with laughter and then the next be jotting down ingredients for the new cuisine I’ll be trying out the next week to then be sobbing big, fat, ugly tears on the next. This is the closest to multiple personality disorder as I get . . . other than that other time once a month. Bless my husband’s heart.
Just a few days ago, as I was catching up on the latest blogger sagas, I came across one blogger who always steals my attention and gets my waterworks going . . . I mean, I become a big blubbering, mascara-streaked mess. Her name is Emily Meyers, and she amazes me! She recently lost her husband to cancer and is now a single mom raising five kids under the age of five. FIVE! As I read her heart-wrenching story about her final goodbyes to her husband, the love of her life and best friend, my insides ached. Grief filled my heart for her, and my thoughts turned to my own hubby and family. What if I were in her place? What if I had to say goodbye for the very last time to my love? Right then I felt the overwhelming urge to rip open my blanket burrito and run straight into my husband’s outstretched arms. But realizing that this picture would look more like me stumbling . . . errr rolling out of my blanket fort and tripping just before landing flat on my snoring husband’s chest, knocking the breath and snores right out of him, I resisted the urge . . . although ending the snore fest was tempting. Instead, I mulled over what life would be like without him. And quite frankly, the thought plain stunk. Because no matter how much his snoring and junior high-type flirting drives me crazy, I wouldn’t want to be with anyone else, much less never see him again this side of heaven. The more I reflect on this sobering thought, the more I realize how much I take him for granted.
I take for granted each poke and prod as my husband attempts to flirt with me while I’m
sweating like a pig glistening over the hot stove . . . and despite the close calls on spilling food or burning myself or him, I would miss these moments if he were gone.
I take for granted each time my husband offers to keep our kids and even willingly volunteers to watch my friend’s kids as well so that we can escape for a few hours to do . . . well, anything our hearts desire. This usually involves food that we don’t have to share with greedy, chubby fingers (the kids’, not our husbands’)! Moment of silence.
I take for granted the fact that even when he is gone on a missions trip overseas or taking our youth group to activities or making hospital visits, he WILL come back. Our “goodbyes” are only “see ya laters.” And although I miss him greatly when he’s gone, these times are only temporary.
I take for granted that I don’t have to do yard work. ‘Nough said.
Ultimately, I take for granted all this and more. But as I ponder how different life would be if I were that blogger facing a brand new, scary transition in life, I am thankful. One woman’s loss has become my gain. Through her tears, I am learning to cherish each moment—the beautiful ones, the mundane ones, the terribly difficult ones, and the ridiculously amazing ones! Because life is fleeting. If today were the last day before my world was shattered, would I look back on this day with fondness or regret? Would I have taken it all for granted?