My Darling Doormat

It has come to my recent attention that I have some issues. I don’t know why my husband had to ruin my neurotic fantasy of perfection. He’s such a party-pooper! So here’s what happened…

The other day I bought a new doormat. I wasn’t really looking for one, even though I needed a new one. My old doormat suffocated to death from too much dust and bad-smelling shoes. Poor guy. That can’t be an easy tikkun.

Anyhow, I arrived at my favorite imitation Costco supermarket before it opened. Doesn’t that make me sound so time-efficient? Actually, the supermarket doesn’t open until 10:00. Crazy.

To pass the time, I went next door, to the store that sells random house stuff, and browsed around for a bit. I found this beautiful rubber/foam/whatever-toxic-mixture-it-is doormat with a sweet picture of a pigeon riding a bicycle. It had a caption next to it that said: “Home is where your heart is.” The whole thing just looked so cute and homey, so I bought it.

After I unloaded the groceries, I rolled out my new doormat and stood back and admired its rustic, country look. As I headed back into my house, I was extra careful to step over the doormat so I wouldn’t get it dirty. Throughout that day and the next few days, I made sure to step on my darling doormat as little as possible. If I found a stray piece of paper lying on my beloved doormat, I would quickly remove it and lovingly wipe off any residual debris with my hand. I shall call him Dormy and he shall be mine and he shall be my Dormy. (Remember “Finding Nemo”?)

Everything was fine until my husband and I happened to leave the house at the same time. He had to get his passport renewed, and I had to come along as an underpaid translator. Correction – unpaid translator. I walked out of the house first, gingerly stepping over my doormat. Instead of continuing on to the car, I made the mistake of turning around to wait for him, so we could walk to the car together. You know, almost like a date.

Almost, that is, until I suddenly screamed in horror. “What are you doing??!” I asked him, nearly hysterical. “What? What??” he replied, confused. He was looking around, trying to figure out what I was screaming at him about this time. “Why are you stepping on my doormat?!!” I accused him. “What? Are you serious??” He was in utter disbelief.

“Yes! Don’t step on my doormat! I don’t want to get it dirty,” I explained, as I tried to pull him off of it. He stood firm. “What is wrong with you? It’s a doormat! It’s supposed to get dirty!” He began stomping his oversized feet on it. “YOU’RE KILLING HIM, YOU’RE KILLING HIM!” I screamed hysterically, as I desperately tried to pull him off my beloved Dormy. The neighbor walked by with his cell phone in hand and asked if everything was okay. “Fine, fine,” we replied in unison, all of a sudden smiling like everything was perfect.

“Next time I’m gonna step in some mud and then rub my shoes all over your doormat,” he threatened me under his breath. I tried to hold back my tears as he escorted me by my elbow to the car. Needless to say, our romantic date was so totally over. To make things worse, he made me drive to the passport office.

It took a few hours of cooling down for me to realize that I might have slightly overreacted. Slightly. I mean, obviously my husband deserved to marry a crazy woman for his ultimate benefit, right? Wasn’t I just a messenger of Hashem at that moment? I pride myself on doing my best to help hubby achieve his ultimate soul correction, and I think I’m doing a pretty good job.

But I digress… After thinking it over for a while, I realized something so obvious, yet hidden: I was too attached to Dormy. After all, as cute as he is, he’s still just a doormat. I’m struggling to come to terms with it, but I’m making progress.

But aren’t we all like this to one degree or another? Aren’t we too attached to our stuff? Whether it’s a fancy car or brand-name clothing, how much effort and importance do we place on our physical items? How much time are we sacrificing from our lives for a nicer house or a luxury vacation?

These things aren’t bad at all; but there is a very vague and fine line that we can cross when we start to place too much importance on our material surroundings. The important thing is that we realize that all of our physical comforts are nothing less than gifts from Hashem, which should enable us to appreciate His beneficence and desire to draw closer to Him.

In reality, Hashem wants us to enjoy life. He wants to give us infinitely more than we want to receive. But here’s the secret: by appreciating what we already have and realizing that they are not ends in themselves, we become vessels for even greater divine blessings.

So go ahead and enjoy your exotic vacation in the Bahamas. Thank Hashem for every moment. And next time, take me with you!

P.S. Yes, I still step over the doormat!