Sunday, September 29, 2013

Hard-Headed Hoodie

My husband has a navy blue zipped hoodie with a white lining. I will not include a photo to protect the innocent, but remember the white lining.

It's important.

He likes this hoodie for its simplicity and functionality, and it is his go-to outer layer from spring to fall.

Rather, it was… before I ruined its lining in the wash last night.

I am not inept at this favorite chore. But Hubbs does not want me taking the initiative with his laundry. Never has. He is particular about his clothing, and though he will give me items to add to a certain load, he prefers to do his own laundry to avoid accidents.

Like my ruining his blue hoodie in the wash.

Hubbs often calls me hard-headed, and I usually smile. Laugh even. But this week I’ve realized how snugly that shoe fits.

And hurts.

By the way, the recipe for ruining a hoodie is as follows:

1 load of dark clothes
1 navy blue hoodie with a white lining
One pair of red capris
Warm water
I hard-headed wife

Run through one cycle and prepare for the pinkness.

Image courtesy of keerati /

As boneheaded as this blunder was, the story does not end there.

It has, if you will, a silver lining.

With heavy steps and a heavier heart, I walked into our bedroom and confessed my crime. I expected and would have deserved several responses from my husband—anger, disappointment, a five-point treatise on my hard-headedness.

But he surprised me in the most beautiful way.

He said, “Don’t worry about it.”

No anger, no exasperation, not even a hint of this-is-all-your-fault. He declined my offer to replace it, waved off my repeated apologies, and reiterated his first statement, adding only a light “just don’t wash my clothes anymore.”

Twenty-four hours later, I’m still in awe.

He had every right to blame me, to be annoyed or angry. Part of me wanted his wrath, his judgment and cold shoulder. I deserved it, expected it, and had prepared to receive it. Instead I was given the gift of mercy. And my heart has never been so touched.

Image courtesy of graur razvan ionut /
I have learned my lesson about doing his laundry; I shall go and stain no more. I have repented of my hard-headedness and am yielding to God to lay it down.

But more than anything, I am in awe of my husband—which in itself is no rare occurrence—my soul alight with the warmth of his kindness. I can only hope to be as gracious and selfless as he when I next play the role of the injured party.

“To err is human; to forgive, divine.”

From where I sit today, no truer words were ever written.

1 comment:

  1. A man who can do laundry: let him! LOL! My Hubbs would tell you about the time he washed all his dress shirts with a red thermal blanket. Yep, every single shirt he owned was pink. I think we used Oxyclean on them and most were saved. Poor H.