BEDS

                                                                                   

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.

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.