Sing for the joy that's found in setting up the pins and knocking them down

Thursday, December 31, 2009

Down Comforters and Life

So during a rather fitful night of sleeping, I pulled my comforter up to my chin to keep away the cold and the day that loomed on the horizon---rip! Before I knew what had happened I had a nose full of goose down--which has much the same feeling as breathing in a mosquito. I laid there very still thinking I could make the problem just go away. I blew out into the darkness to guard my face from any floaters and wrapped my sheet around the edge of the blanket hoping to contain the oozing down and return to sleep.

For the next hour, I came up with all kinds of plans of how to repair the rip, turn the scarred side of my quilt to the end of the bed, find the duvet cover that I had abandoned years ago, reinforcing the whole edge of my much-loved quilt. In the quiet and dark of my bedroom, I imaged how I could make it all okay again. I'm a fixer--that's what I do and how I think.

After laying perfectly still for that hour so not to disturb any feathers, I slowly got up to find something to repair my problem. I made my way to the kitchen and found some masking tape, and warned my dear husband that I'd have to turn on the light to remedy my problem. Three strips of bright blue masking tape and my problem was covered, not really fixed, but attended for the moment. I brushed the stray feathers off my pillow and mentally congratulated myself for finding a short term solution to my problem--no evidence of anything here. Okay, so before I crawl back into bed, I decide I need to use the bathroom. I turn on the light, look in the mirror and realize that my hair has collected all the down like a magnet...

Life is like that. We think we're masking all the problems, fixing them ourselves, covering our flaws for the world to see, but we're really not fooling anyone. So I could buy the most beautiful luxurious duvet cover in the world, but it still wouldn't change the fact that my comforter is ripped, has been repaired once before, will be repaired again, and has blemishes that reflect its sixteen years of use. I'm glad we don't serve a God who patches and repairs us. He loves us and makes us new. He gives us another chance, a clean slate, a thread count that will never wear thin that is filled with the most perfectly white down.

A good night, not really, but a meaningful life lesson, yes.

Some nights are like that.