Posts Tagged ‘sleep’

In an earlier post, I wrote that the idea of some day owning an aqua or coral pink Adirondack chair made me smile. Well, I’ve got one!

Thank you, Becky, for my early Christmas present. It sits in my dining room and I can plunk down in it any time I want. I can put on a recording of ocean waves, get myself a cold drink, and be on vacation. Oops, now that it’s heating season, I keep my house too cool for a cool drink, and the effect is just not the same with a cup of chamomile tea. Nevertheless — I love that word, so I’ll say it again — nevertheless, that chair in my house makes me smile big time.

Here’s something else that does. I sing along when I hear it:

Life is a rollercoaster. Life is surfing the pipeline. Life is rafting down the Poudre. Sometimes life is stuck in the doldrums, too, or slogging through mud, or climbing a sheer rock face.  I’m not drowning, and I won’t, because God promised: “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow you.” But if I’m to navigate any of what God will bring me to tomorrow, I must sleep now.



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About a bed

I awoke this morning from a deliciously wonderful night’s sleep on my first new bed in 34 years. Yes, 34. I have not lost my memory. I am not exaggerating. This bed means even more than the sleep, though.

As a child I slept in beds my parents picked for me. Then I went to college and slept on a dorm bed. Then I got married and when we bought a bed, my husband went to the store and picked the bed–a quite firm one–and had it delivered. I don’t remember why I didn’t go along. That was 34 years ago. After about 25 years I’d mention once in a while that we should think about getting a new mattress, and he’d say, “How can we need a new bed when I sleep so well on this one?”

Then he died. I stopped sleeping in that bed. I made the guest room my room. The bed in there was a long twin that his parents had purchased in 1965. It was clean for its age and even firmer than our queen bed. Art had slept on it as a teenager, and this is probably why he chose a firm mattress for us.

This spring I promised myself that when I paid off the last of my debt, except for my house, I would buy myself a new bed. (By this I mean mattress set, because I don’t have a headboard. Haven’t since that childhood bed) So two weeks ago I made my last debt payment–a huge, huge, huge reason to celebrate!–and last week I went bed shopping. I chose a plush mattress that yields to my shoulder and hip, since I like to side-sleep. It tenderly cushions me, and I feel cared for when I lie on it.

I cried as I got in the car after I ordered it. I had chosen something to take good care of myself, based on what I need, and that’s not just okay, it’s good. Sleep is so elemental, and to nurture myself like this feels extraordinary. In a way, it’s remarkable that it’s so extraordinary. That, too, is part of why the tears came–why, there they are again, in the back of my throat.

And so the journey of life continues.

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