A couple of days ago, I tried, and I mean I literally put in some effort, to cancel a toothbrush head refill subscription. Not a big deal, right? Just a quick login, scroll down to customer service, click on a couple of boxes, and boom! Done! Here’s the thing. I already did this. In July. Right after my dad died. Because several months earlier, I had gotten him an electric toothbrush, which made it a little more of an adventure for him to brush his teeth, because he was resisting my mom on this point of hygiene and he was incapable of doing it himself. But you can’t just buy an electric toothbrush now. You also have to signup for a subscription for them to send you replacement heads every couple of months. No problem. They ship them right to your door, and I showed my mom how to swap them out. When my dad died, I somehow had the presence of mind to think about this and cancelled the subscription. End of story.

But wait. My mom was at my house a few weeks ago and told me that HER toothbrush company (which, of course, is a different brand, because why should we do anything convenient in my family?) was sending her these toothbrush heads that didn’t fit. And then, she proceeded to pull said toothbrush heads out of her carryon, because apparently I am still 5 years old AND a visual learner and she wanted to make sure I understood the problem. Ah, yes. Those indeed don’t fit because they are the toothbrush heads from the company that DAD HAD A TOOTHBRUSH FROM. WHAT IS HAPPENING? (AND WAIT, DID SHE TAKE THOSE STUPID THINGS IN HER CARRY-ON TO HAWAII? I am sure she did, and probably explained the whole thing to whoever examined her bag, and since Hawaii’s population is roughly 44% Asian ladies over the age of 70 they probably understood perfectly and just let her and her possibly covid infected toothbrush heads through).

Where were we? Oh yes. So, apparently, my efficient cancellation, hadn’t been as efficient as I had thought. After we got my mom off to the islands and dealt with a few other things, I got around to cancellation 2.0. Except this time, it made me lose my groove. I don’t know what happened. I think they maybe changed something in the customer service questions, but when you cancel they ask to click on a box that says why you’re canceling. But there isn’t one that fits. There is no box that says “my dad died and no longer has teeth”. There is also no box that says “my dad died and I already canceled and you still sent these to my mom and now she’s confused because she gets her refills from another company and she brought these to my house in Utah all the way from Idaho and now I’m starting to spiral into grief and I have a wedding in a month that I’ve had to plan 47 iterations of and I think my head is going to blow up and is Nevada still counting votes, seriously?” There is no box for that.

There is no box for “the Nutcracker was canceled this year after 5 months of no ballet and my ballerina daughter who is so talented would have had a solo of some kind, but now she goes to pointe class and wears a mask through 90 minutes of intense, demanding exercise and then comes home and tries to teach herself AP Calculus because like 9 children in the whole US have died from this disease, while meanwhile I see her fighting anxiety and isolation and loneliness.”

There is no box for “my husband works so hard to take care of our family but we went from feeling like we could start enjoying life a little bit to are we going to have a job?…literally overnight.” We are super grateful that he does have a job. And a salary. But actually NOT flying is really hard on him. And let’s face it, on me, too. He wants to feel needed and like he is doing something. Everyone wants to feel “essential”.

There is no box for “all of your college classes are virtual and so is work and you can only interact with the people in your apartment”. THAT quickly became a recipe for isolation and stress and so now we are paying rent for an empty apartment and tuition for college that our daughter doesn’t really attend. But I’m so much happier that she is home and feeling connected and less lonely.

There is no box for “this year will be hard in a lot of ways. Oh, and there’s also a pandemic, btws.” I am feeling like I am just now starting to explore the iceberg of my grief. The “firsts” have been coming fast and furious—my dad’s birthday, my parents’ anniversary, which we share with them and with my husband’s parents, now Thanksgiving, and then my daughter’s wedding—she’s the one who looks so much like me and would go on little adventures with Grandpa. At the end, he kept calling her Tami. I know he would love to have been here for her wedding day.

There’s also no box for “I am still grateful to be here and somehow able to find joy in my every day life”. I know. I’m surprised, too. But not really.

Because of this. Maybe because this year has been so crazy stupid hard, I have had to try extra hard to focus on the good, to find the positive, to see the beauty in the chaos. When I focus on Christ, nothing else matters. Or, only the important things matter. Love, faith, family. Being kind matters. Listening matters. Trying to find someone to serve every day matters. Because if in the end, I have not chosen Christ, then what I have chosen won’t matter.

So I’m letting go of the box, and focusing on what matters.

What matters to you?