Life is too short for stupid stuff

Life is too short for stupid stuff. This thought popped into my head this morning when I found out about the deaths of three former neighbors – a mom, dad, and one of their twin sons. They were the first neighbors we met in Belton eight years ago. John played with the boys when they were younger and was on a swim team with the surviving son. Paul worked with the dad at Scott & White Health Care, and I chatted with the mom occasionally. Although we weren’t particularly close and lost touch after they moved to the Dallas area, I feel like I’ve been punched in the stomach.

I have so many thoughts running through my head today. Life is too short. Life is especially too short for stupid stuff. I think of all the stupid little things that upset me, and I realize that I waste too much time worrying about small things: shopping carts left in the parking lot at the grocery store, Christmas music before Thanksgiving, swim parents who don’t work at meets, slow drivers, fast drivers, long lines, what people think about me, what I think about other people, general discontentment with our current location, and I could go on. But I won’t.

My family has faced death two times this year. My 23-year old cousin died in February from cystic fibrosis, and another cousin died unexpectedly from a heart attack on November 1. He was only 47 – my age. We grew up together. My heart breaks for these families who are navigating through life and this holiday season without their loved ones.

I’ve been doing some soul searching today. What can I do to be a better wife and mom? What am I doing to make the world a better place? What can I do differently to focus on the big picture instead of the stupid stuff?

Because life is too short.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Don’t sweat the small stuff

Yesterday morning, we were almost ready to head out the door for church, and I noticed John’s attire – sweatpants, a swim team shirt, a jacket, and sneakers. He usually wears jeans or shorts, so the sweatpants threw me off a bit. I opened my mouth to tell him to change pants, and this thought immediately popped into my head – “Don’t sweat the small stuff.” Because in the grand scheme of  life and death, wearing sweatpants to church isn’t even a blip on the radar.