Cleaning Under the Bed
As I recover from my surgery, I've been trying to find tasks around the house to do that wouldn't require me to bend. I got this bright idea that using a dog brush I could clean the rug under our bed. Mind you, I knew there was some dust and dirt under there. It's a huge, heavy bed, far too massive for one person to move it, and even tough for two. So for a long time--okay, a REALLY long time--my husband and I have just ignored the dust and dirt and dog hair piling up only a few feet below where we sleep.
Well, I, with my trusty dog brush in hand, splayed myself out on the floor, crawled under the bed and began to clean the rug. It was exhausting work, but it was work I could do because there was no lifting or bending. The more I brushed, however, the more dirt showed up.
As I worked I realized that I always keep myself so busy that I never take time to do these kinds of tasks. But being sequestered in my room for a few weeks has made me look at my room in a different way, especially the bed.
A bed ought to be a sacred place. It is what we get out of each morning to face life's challenges and where we lay our bodies down to rest at night. It is where we have intimate moments with our partners, sometimes sweet, sometimes hurtful. It is where we tell our children bedtime stories and where we let the dogs sleep on our feet in the winter. Sometimes it is where we grieve when our hearts are broken or where we heal when we are sick. It is often where we pray, and often, too, where we die. So why shouldn't the space around such a sacred place be kept in order?
I'm sure you know where I'm going here...As I was cleaning, I started thinking about all those things that I "hide under the bed"--the parts of me that get in the way of being closer to God. In the same way that I ignored the dust and the dirt and the dog hair, I tend to blur my vision when I am confronted with my own shortcomings. Taking a focussed look at those parts of myself feels like too much work, it's uncomfortable, and what needs cleaning isn't always pretty.
When I had finished my task, I felt a great deal of relief. In the past, I would have been like little Jack Horner, congratulating myself by saying, "Oh what a good girl am I!" This time was different. This time I felt humbled by the quiet gift of insight God gave me of how I fool myself about "the things I have done and the things I have left undone."
Tonight I am happy to make my bed and lie in it, and when I say my prayers, I will contemplate the many little ways that we can help bring order to God's world, whether it's cleaning under the bed, or asking Him to help us keep our own hearts and minds cleared of all the many things that we allow to separate us from His unending Love.
Happy Thanksgiving to all.
Well, I, with my trusty dog brush in hand, splayed myself out on the floor, crawled under the bed and began to clean the rug. It was exhausting work, but it was work I could do because there was no lifting or bending. The more I brushed, however, the more dirt showed up.
As I worked I realized that I always keep myself so busy that I never take time to do these kinds of tasks. But being sequestered in my room for a few weeks has made me look at my room in a different way, especially the bed.
A bed ought to be a sacred place. It is what we get out of each morning to face life's challenges and where we lay our bodies down to rest at night. It is where we have intimate moments with our partners, sometimes sweet, sometimes hurtful. It is where we tell our children bedtime stories and where we let the dogs sleep on our feet in the winter. Sometimes it is where we grieve when our hearts are broken or where we heal when we are sick. It is often where we pray, and often, too, where we die. So why shouldn't the space around such a sacred place be kept in order?
I'm sure you know where I'm going here...As I was cleaning, I started thinking about all those things that I "hide under the bed"--the parts of me that get in the way of being closer to God. In the same way that I ignored the dust and the dirt and the dog hair, I tend to blur my vision when I am confronted with my own shortcomings. Taking a focussed look at those parts of myself feels like too much work, it's uncomfortable, and what needs cleaning isn't always pretty.
When I had finished my task, I felt a great deal of relief. In the past, I would have been like little Jack Horner, congratulating myself by saying, "Oh what a good girl am I!" This time was different. This time I felt humbled by the quiet gift of insight God gave me of how I fool myself about "the things I have done and the things I have left undone."
Tonight I am happy to make my bed and lie in it, and when I say my prayers, I will contemplate the many little ways that we can help bring order to God's world, whether it's cleaning under the bed, or asking Him to help us keep our own hearts and minds cleared of all the many things that we allow to separate us from His unending Love.
Happy Thanksgiving to all.
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