Beautiful Moments in My Messy Life

A little over a week ago, my 52-year-old uncle died suddenly of a heart attack. He was my mother's older brother, my grandmother's first born son, a husband to his high school sweetheart, a father of two, and a grandfather of four. He was a great man, the kind of guy to give up his seat in a crowded room or lend you his trailer if you needed to move. A stand up guy, as I've heard people say.

I looked around the memorial service, in a room full of grieving family members and friends, knowing with absolute certainty that my uncle not only changed our lives - he enriched them, strengthened them, and bettered them just by being there. Being present. Listening intently. Laughing with his whole body. Loving whole heartedly. Hugging tightly. Speaking truthfully. He was always really there.

His sudden passing got me thinking about my own life and the people in it. One minute my uncle was about to get into his truck and go home; the next minute he was gone. It sounds cliche to say, "tomorrow isn't guaranteed," but I'm learning more and more how painfully true that is. 

So after countless tears shed and many hours spent soul searching, I'm learning to thank God more and more for the kind of everyday miracles I tend to overlook and under appreciate. I want to make a conscious effort to appreciate the beautiful moments in my messy life. The simple blessings. 

And I started today.

I woke up far too early to a dreary, overcast sky... but thanked God for waking me up. Clouds and all. Morning shift and all. I'm alive. I'm healthy. That in and of itself is a blessing.

I looked to my left and saw my husband sleeping so soundly. I listened to his steady breathing for a minute, cuddling my head against his chest and shoulder (let's be real... it was kind of his armpit), a place that has become a second pillow for me over the years. Still half-asleep, he pulled me close and said in the softest, kindest voice, "I love you so much." His eyes were still closed, his mind still dreaming, but there is always something incredible about those first words in the morning, laced with the kind of sincerity and vulnerability that is hard to find at 3 in the afternoon. I kissed his cheek, well... I kissed his beard... and thanked God for every second he has given me with this beautiful man. And his beard. 

I drove to a job I enjoy.. in a car I can afford.. with music that I love - three things I may not have remembered to be thankful for yesterday. But today I am. I really am. 

I got a nosebleed on the way home from work, something that is pretty impossible to be grateful for, but I quickly remembered the time Grandma Jean and I high-fived over our shared sinus issues. I started laughing. Just me. Driving down I-29. Laughing about how cool my grandma is and, even though there are 50-some odd years between us, how she is one of my best friends. I'm so blessed to still have her in my life.

And when I walked through the door after a short shift, my adorable puppies bounced around at my feet with the kind of excitement that is hard to match as a human. But I tried anyway. They are always completely pumped up to see me - the simple sight of the person they love fills them with pure, uninhibited joy. Why should my reaction be any different? And when they ran around in the backyard for a few minutes and came back covered in mud, I reminded myself that mud means spring and spring means gardening and gardening means vegetables. And what's not to love about fresh, homegrown vegetables? Yeah.. that one was a bit of a stretch but I'm really trying here. 

There are always reasons to complain. The overcast skies, the nosebleeds, the muddy puppies - it would be easy to add them all up and call this another blah Sunday in my very average life. But I'm through with that. There are going to be rough days, days when my heart is aching and my eyes can't handle even one more tear, but that's not today. Today is beautiful in its simplicity. My heart is still aching over the loss of a good man but I am here. This is my life. I could spend the next few days, weeks, or years wishing for something different, something better, or I could take the time to try and appreciate the way it is right now. 

I refuse to be a half-assed participant in my own life. I'm going to laugh as loud as I'd like to, hug as long as I'd like to, and love as deeply as I'd like to because life is too damn short not to. From this point on, I am choosing to be grateful.