Life Is More Than Fitting In Your Jeans

"That's a beautiful dress!" I say as I pull my friend into a hug.

"Well, it fits more snuggly than it used to," my friend replies.

In a rare moment of the right thing coming to my mind immediately, I shot back with a smile, "Life is more than fitting in your jeans!" as I held her out at arm's length.

"Thanks for that," she says with a chuckle.

I'm no stranger to feeling like my clothes don't fit like I want them to. And I spend more time than I should worrying I weigh too much, that my clothes are too tight, or a million other negative thoughts about my appearance. 

A line from a song I've been listening to a lot lately keeps sticking out to me:

I know, I'm all for people following their dreams
Just remember life is more than fittin' in your jeans
It's love and understanding, positivity

- What Do I Know, by Ed Sheeran

This concept comes up in a couple of songs I like - maybe it's because I need someone to figuratively hold me at arm's length and remind me that "life is more than fittin' in your jeans" from time to time.

Looking up the song lyrics to write this today also made me think about that line in the context in Ed Sheeran's song. I love that he talks about supporting people in their dreams AND that we should put our dreams in the context of love, understanding, and positivity.

This makes me think about another physical attribute I wrote about previously: the lines on my face. As a child, I always loved to see my Grandma Smith and was fascinated by the 'smile crinkles' on her face. As I get older, I have to make a proactive effort to choose to focus on gratitude for the joy and good memories in my life that have given me my own smile crinkles. It is tempting to yearn for smooth skin and worry about what others think about my appearance. But, I'd rather focus my dreams on spending time with people I love doing fun, meaningful things in a loving, positive way than to focus on my appearance.

Things Left Undone

At the end of every day, job, life, there are things left undone - there always will be.

Two people I greatly admire and have served with closely over the past couple years recently passed away very unexpectedly.

Sudden loss can be incomprehensible. One of their daughters captured the feeling well at the memorial service, "We have not a clue how to say goodbye."

It's little things that have made this real to me.

One of the first things I thought when I heard the news was, "Well, I guess I'm not going to be able to return their Tupperware." They sent me home with leftovers after a Sunday dinner they had hosted in their new home.

While at their home for dinner, I admired their artwork and enjoyed being shown craft projects in various states of completion. Handcraft is something we had bonded over, and one of the last things I did in their home was to take a photo of a beautiful hand sewn quilt with a magnificent painting behind it.

The handsewn quilt is a work of art itself. I expressed admiration, and my host thanked me and turned our attention to the painting. She laughed - pointing out that the mother was calmly working away, not knowing that her work was being pulled apart as fast (really faster) than it was being done. We parted promising to get together to craft soon.

Words of others help me, perhaps particularly in times of extreme emotion. They give voice to thoughts and feelings I have but can't express. Facebook pulled up a memory of a quote I posted about four years ago that resonates again now:

"In the end, only three things matter: how much you loved, how gently you lived, and how gracefully you let go of things not meant for you"
- Buddha

At the unexpected end of my friend's life, the quilt she was making is left undone. But she did not leave undone things that truly mattered.

One of the things I admire most about how she and her husband led their life is how consistently they focused on things that mattered.

They did not leave people unloved. They did not leave kind words unsaid. They did not hesitate to invite people into their home to share meals or along on family vacations to have fun together. They smiled, they served, they loved.

They are the kind of people who make it easier for me to know what the Savior would do, because they lived their lives in the service of Christ, loving others the way He would if He were here.

One of the themes shining through in this season of loss is the joy that can be found in reaching out in love now. Tell people they matter to you. Thank them for the little things they do. Cheer for them in their endeavors. Cry with them when things are sad or hard.

I want to love more, live more gently, and let go more gracefully. And I want to live more like my friends - in the words of a friend expressing condolences and celebrating the lives of these extraordinary people: Love loudly, serve quietly.

This post has sat as a draft for too long. I don't know how to end it. And I guess that might be the whole point. Some things just have to be left undone.