My Bed

So I pulled out my journal from Creative Writing last night and wrote for the first time since school's been out.. outside of blogging.. to try and start organizing my thoughts and hopefully clearing some of them out.  Tonight I did the same and as I started to write I gave myself a challenge to keep the same topic for an entire page.  I managed to accomplish this task, however when I got to the end of the page, I realized my entire exposition was an incredible analogy that was pulled out of my brain and put in front of my face at the exact moment that I needed a sign.

I'm going to share what I wrote, and then reflect on the power within what I thought might have only turned into a half ass-ed haiku.

My bed is like a palace.  It's my solstice and solitude.  It is so comfortable with soft sheets, 10 pillows, my baby friends, & the warm light of my step-mother's hand-me-down lamp, which brings out just the perfect shades in my TJ Maxx, almost too bright quilt.

It's extravagant, yet delicate and perfect.  I love to have all the space in my bed to myself.  I can line my pillows up on either side & be protected from the dark unknown, safe in the Land of Nod.

Even when I'm just sitting for a minute, I sit and am nearly immediately rejuvenated by the power of its comfort.  It lures me into its realm each night, and releases me each morning with the promise of just a short goodbye until it's time again for bed.  On those nights when I don't return, I yearn for the warm, safe embrace of my space, & when I do return, I am welcomed with open arms & I am always welcome like I had never even left.

So, what do you think?

Once I got to the part about the nights I miss my bed, and yearn for it's safety and comfort I realized this page is about God.  Okay, minus the 10 pillows and rainbow Cynthia Rowley quilt...

But for real, the past few days I have just been stewing in self pity and ashamedness for my distance from God.  I haven't been praying like I should be, or being the woman He made me to be.  Then all of a sudden, just like He will do, the Holy Spirit pulled these intimate thoughts about my full size mattress out of my head and into my journal where I read them to find that these are all qualities of my God, and that no matter how far I feel I have fallen, or no matter how many nights I have yearned for my Temperpedic pillow and 10-year-old Rabbie, I get brought right back to the reality that I had never really left.

Almost like the Parable of the Prodigal Son, which I heard again recently.  Like the Son, I have been sitting on the outskirts of my faith, thinking that if nothing else, maybe God will let me ride on the coattails of his miracles, not being a part of them, but still allowed to follow Him.  But also like the Son, I realize (though I have been told all along) that God wants to take us back and more when we come home to Him.  He doesn't want us slopping with the slaves, but instead, at His right-hand, safe, warm, and welcome.

I realize this sounds cliche, but I was so simply awestruck by the realization of this analogy that I had to share it.  They say the Holy Spirit is within us, and I have been a witness to this tonight, such a freeing feeling on this warm Tuesday night.

Goodnight, friends.