My Bed

Omaha Zoo, Oct. 2012

I have to admit, I LOVE my bed.

I know.  It sounds silly.  But it's true.


I love that the mattress is not too hard, nor too soft, but just right.  And, it doesn't have any lumps.  I know I won't wake up with a crick in my back from it being too soft, nor will my hips be talking to me in the morning because it was too hard.

I love that my pillows are not lumpy, nor hard, but rather are soft and fluffy and gently cradle my head as I lie down to rest.

I love that I have all the covers I need, and they don't have any holes in them.  My sheets are soft and clean, the quilt is warm.  If I need it, there is an extra blanket down at the end of the bed; I just need to reach down and pull it up if I am cold in the night.

I love climbing into it at the end of a long day, and snuggling down into my sheets and pulling the covers up to my chin.  There are no prickles, no hard edges, just soft and welcoming warmth.

I love that I don't have to share it with many-legged creatures who like midnight snacks.

On the nights I am really tired, all I have to do is lie down, warm up just a bit, and let sleep overtake me like a wave, carrying me off until morning.  It's a beautiful thing. 

I wallow in the luxury of it all - and am acutely aware that the same is not true for most of the other people in the world.  I remember the lumpy foam we slept on in Honduras - and they gave us the best they had.  In the hotel we stayed at in Guatemala, the mattresses were hard and unyielding.  I once saw a photo that haunts me still - of a young boy in Africa, asleep on the ground, with nothing but a plastic sheet between his little body and the dirt.

There is a group in Kansas City that gives mattresses to families who don't have enough beds.  Last time I replaced my mattress, they took the old one, and gladly.  It was in much better shape than most of the ones the children were currently sleeping on.

God, help me to be aware of my blessings, both big and small.