Thursday, October 27, 2011

Big Comfy Bed

I think just about everyone loves their bed. Often a comment you'll hear someone say when they've been traveling is, "I can't wait to get home to my own bed!" There's just something comfortable and relaxing when you melt into in it at the end of the day.

And I have to agree. I do love my bed. Whether it is crisp, cool sheets on a hot summer night with a breeze blowing through the windows, or the toasty warmth of flannel sheets in the winter, I adore the feeling when you plunge between the layers.  All the stress and worries of the day, just wash away as your head is cradled by pillows and the blankets cocoon your soul.  It is just an "Ahhhhh" moment that I look forward to each evening.  And now that cooler weather is upon us, my big fluffly down comforter has returned, which makes the plunge all that dreamier!

Perhaps I love mine so much because I know what it is like not to be able to sleep in it. For months after our motorcycle wreck, I lived in a hospital bed.  Staying a few nights in a hospital bed is uncomfortable enough, but when you're forced into for over three, it really takes a toll on a body.  Of course, my darling husband did make it more tolerable, since he slept right next to me on the couch.  His devotion each night, vowing not to go back to our bed without me, is what got me through the next day.

I returned to the bed earlier than my body was ready, remembering how painful it was just to turn on my side.  But that pain was worth it, for it meant I could be held by my husband.  Even now, it's how we fall asleep and how I find us whenever we awake.  It's automatic, a movement we make in unison, even if one is sleeping when the other moves or turns.  No matter the position, we are touching and connected. 

Although the mattress is supportive, the blankets soft and warm, and the sheets smooth and inviting, they aren't at all what makes my bed so comfortable.  It's the love of my life who is beside me each night, as we hold hands to pray, and the first person I see when I open my eyes every morning. 

Earlier this week, I heard a beautiful story of a couple.  Married 72 years, they died one hour apart, holding hands.  I can only hope for such a long life with Tim and an ending so precious.  However, no matter how many days or moments we have together, I'll treasure every sunrise I see on his face and thank God for him each evening...from our big comfy bed.


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