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.

New Year New Blog

It's time to start anew.

Last year had a rough ending. A close friend lost a baby that we've prayed over for nearly 10 weeks. His entire life consisted of living quietly below my dear friend's heart. There he yawned, sucked his thumb, and fought to survive. They brought him into our world to give him a better chance and he slipped away to be with his Maker--the one who made him fearfully and wonderfully. We ache for her. We all want to be the hero and make it better. She doesn't need any heroes.

Three friends. Three friends that I've watched bury their children. It's strange to feel like you have some kind of experience in an area such as this. It's an experience I don't want to have. I call one friend to find out how to deal with another. I watch one friend's actions and hope to help another stay away from that dark place. I try to predict how this one will walk this path. She's walked the last 10 weeks brilliantly, a faithful servant to her Savior even in this great hour of trial. But I know today all bets are off. Everyone's path is their own.

Her friends will storm the gates of heaven to uphold her through these hard days, months--hoping to carry her through. At times like this I'm always reminded of the lame man who is let down through the roof to Jesus. It must have been frightening to be helplessly on a mat, being lowered to this great man. Did they give him a choice or did they pick him up and ignore his questions, moving forward to do what they knew was his best shot. I think she has the kind of friends who will pick up the mat and answer her questions later. I want to be a mat carrier, but mostly I want all eyes to be upon the person worth bringing her to.