MANDY FLYNN: Miscontruing a fuzzy word

“I hate lint!” a young woman exclaimed probably a little louder than she meant to and a few of us standing near turned to see what the ruckus was about.

“My goodness,” said the older woman standing closest to me, only slightly under her breath. “She’s not a very Godly woman, is she?”

And then it dawned on me.

“Oh, no,” I said. “I think she meant lint – like dryer lint – not the religious Lent,” and I nodded toward the fuzz magnet who was now swiping and plucking furiously at her solid black pants – a dance I have done myself a million times. The woman standing closest to me glanced her way and nodded, but I don’t think she was amused. The whole scenario may not have been so alarming to her had it not been at that very moment Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent.

“Well, she shouldn’t so loudly make statements that can be misconstrued,” the older woman said in a quite proper tone, I thought, and I decided then and there that misconstrued would be my favorite word for the day because it sounded really cool the way she said it. I resisted the urge to tell her that I actually hate lint, too, but I didn’t want to ruffle her feathers any more than they already were.

Wouldn’t want my words to be misconstrued.

Lint, not Lent, can be annoying. But I must say I never fully appreciated the byproduct of my towels, t-shirts, and pajamas until it was brought to my attention that dryer lint can actually be quite useful.

Or so they say.

Many years ago I was given a lovely hand-sewn Christmas ornament, beautifully stitched and colorful, soft like a small stuffed animal. Because it was stuffed. With what, I never would have questioned. But the giver told me.

It was dryer lint.

“My mother keeps big garbage bags full of dryer lint in her closet for projects like this,” she explained, and my honest first thought was, how ingenious. And then it occurred to me. How long does it take for one to collect big garbage bags (plural) of dryer lint? Years, I would imagine. Was my Christmas star ornament stuffed with lint from a pant suit her mother wore in the 1970s?

Intriguing.

Through the years since, I have happened upon other uses people have found for dryer lint. Packing boxes of breakable items, making bracelets, fire starter, and even, regrettably, as make-up remover pads. One story I heard was of a lady who received a wedding gift in a gift bag where dryer lint had been substituted for tissue paper.

I’m sorry. That went too far.

Contrary to lint, I don’t find Lent – the 40-day period prior to Easter in which some give up something in honor of the 40 days Jesus spent in the desert enduring the temptations of Satan – annoying at all. It’s a time for people to reflect on what might be getting in the way of their relationship with God, and to decide what distraction they can give up to help clear that path.

I’ve given up caffeine and sweets in the past, although now it seems I can’t figure out how those were getting in the way of my spiritual relationship. I gave up complaining once, and it worked really well until I complained how hard it was to not complain. So to counteract my failure, I have in more recent years decided to try and be conscious of doing more good things during Lent instead of taking things away. Helping people more. Strangers, even. Like on Ash Wednesday, when I pulled my little lint brush out of my bag and handed it to the fuzz magnet.

“Thank you, thank you!” she said as he brushed her black pants. “I hate lint!”

Yes, lint can be annoying. But Lent, not so much.

Let’s not get things misconstrued.

Email columnist Mandy Flynn at [email protected].