Our lives are full of beds, some folks more than others.
We moved a lot when I was a kid. The bed changed location
but one thing was always the same; the strangeness of the new surroundings, the
loss of the familiar.
I was at times distressed yet lying there smelling a house
that wasn’t our smell yet, I would always wonder what could happen next.
There was the trampoline place on the corner. The thought
of it made my heart jump.
The gaggle of kids my age down the way ogling while we
moved.
The wall when I lay on my side, blank as my heart because
we’d left the gaggle of kids.
The scrawny golfer with hairy Adams apple my mother had framed
as a stab at humor for a boys room though moving up in neighborhood when you're 13 is bad if your clothes are different and your Dad is loud.
Bunks in frozen Michigan during boot camp with snoring
strangers and the thought that, “Boy have I made a mistake.”
Rats scrabbling under the bed because I got lost. Had to pee but just stayed rather than creep across the nasty floor in my already soiled socks or try to find my shoes in the dark down near the rats.
Rats scrabbling under the bed because I got lost. Had to pee but just stayed rather than creep across the nasty floor in my already soiled socks or try to find my shoes in the dark down near the rats.
The strange roommate, white skivvies, kneeling in prayer while
I was trying to put myself back together.
Toddlers tumbling until the covers are so tangled it’s
annoying but their giggles make it ok.
Next to my son as the chemo pump drones.
Fan blowing as I let myself fall through a star lit sky and
speak to God until the light envelopes me.
Predawn darkness casts silhouettes as I tip toe to prayer
and all those beds lay to rest in my mended heart that sits in wonder waiting
for Him …
And all the years,
All the fears,
All the sweat soaked beds are nothing more than stepping
stones to light and God and the love of all mankind.
