I love fluffy things. Fluffy pillows, fluffy blankets, fluffy dogs, fluffy whipped cream, and fluffy sweaters (don’t judge). In fact, I can completely relate to Agnes on Despicable Me when it comes to getting my hands on something fluffy.
One thing I can’t do is feel good fluff. Some of it is great, sure, but some of it is not. I am guilty as charged for doing this in the past. “God needed them in Heaven more, I guess.” What is that? I’ve said this before to a grieving person totally unaware that my silence and a hug would’ve been better. “God isn’t going to give me more than I can handle. He must think I’m Super Woman.” Fluff! God didn’t give me my divorce to build my spiritual muscles. I am sure that He uses our trials and pains for a purpose, but I’m not sold on the idea that He gives us those trials. I’m pretty sure most of what has happened to me in my adult life is the result of my own feckless behavior.
Feel good fluff is not always needed or helpful. Sometimes an honest assessment, a hug, silence, prayer, wisdom, or a shoulder to lean on does a better job than saying something that seems like an inspirational quote. I’ve learned this the hard way. By having some really insensitive “inspirational quotes” said to me while figuring out what is wrong with my son I’ve learned silence is golden. “God will heal him. Pray harder. Don’t say he is sick and he won’t be sick. God is building you up.” That is all fluff, not used to make me feel better, but to make themselves feel like they brought God to me. I know, because I’ve done it.
If I want fluff in my life, I’ll get a cat. Like this one below
I think once I started to contemplate God’s presence in my life I came to the conclusion that a loving God would not “give me things to handle”. He’s here, he does intervene at times if it for His will in our lives, and He does turn many things around for our well-being if we allow it. Take artists, for example. They don’t paint a masterpiece and then slash the canvas. Yet, if someone does ruin their painting, the artist might find a way to use that imperfection. Yes sure, it was never the painter’s intention to have a flawed painting, but they saw they could use it to improve their piece. Fluff would’ve been a painter’s friend telling them their painting was meant to be ruined and they should just deal with it and move on. Seems pretty harsh when you see it from this point of view, doesn’t it?
In conclusion, give me all the fluffy teddy bears! I’ll take whatever you have. I’ll bury my face in all the fluffy cats and dogs. I’ll snuggle with all the fluffy blankets and pillows. Just keep your fluffy words. I’ll do my best to keep mine. I’ll do my best to give my family and friends a big, soft fluffy shoulder to lean on and hope to be silent when I have run out of helpful words to say. I hope we all can do this.