Thursday, January 22, 2009
One of These Things is not Like the Others- and Someday Will it Really Matter?
I have been trying to think of something to post about all day and nothing hit me until just a few minutes ago. This is my bed. (Apparently my camera has a few dried droplets on it. It's not raining or snowing in my room!) I sleep in it every night and I make it every morning. It used to have more pillows, but we took them with us on our trip over Christmas and accidentally left them at the Grand Canyon Railroad Hotel in Williams, AZ. (It was sad, but not worth the drive to go back and get them.) I love my bed. It is very comfy and I like the bedspread because it reminds me of being out in the woods. Greg, or I, makes the bed every morning. Not a big deal- just pull up the covers and throw the pillows back on. 60 seconds, tops. I am not a "hospital corners" kind of person. I just like it neat and tidy. To be honest, Greg is better at the neat and tidy thing than I am.
Every person in my family also has a bed. Every person in my family also has the assignment to make their bed every day. I like having my bed made, but I also feel that if I am going to ask my family to make their beds, I should set an example. I was told this morning, as I am most mornings, that all the beds were made. This afternoon at about 4:30 I happened to be downstairs in one of the bedrooms and realized that someone(s) either had a different definition of "made" or had not been completely honest with me. (Not the first time, I know, nor will it be the last.) I visited other rooms and found that the same circumstances applied there as well.
I will leave the pictures random and somewhat anonymous, though dear daughter will probably be discovered as she is the only one with "girl" colors.
I must cut a teeny bit of slack because it has been cold at night, so there are extra blankets out. I also must admit that all the covers are actually on the beds and not on the floor. Taking those things into account, picture #2 did pretty well.
This reminded me of a class I attended with Greg yesterday on optimism. An optimist is not one that always find life 100% rosey, but is realistic in a situation without forgetting that hardships are not here to stay. As the Book of Mormon says, "It came to pass...". So, I am letting go of the frustration that I felt. Someday these little (and not so little) bodies will be grown and making (or not) their beds somewhere else. I will go down to a guest room with a bed that is made everyday and picture the toys and the blankets and have a happy little "memory moment". Then I will probably call a child or two and just say "Hi", maybe ask if they made their bed that morning, and tell them that I love them. Then I will go back downstairs and look at the still-made bed and smile. Maybe someday those children will bring little ones of their own and I can listen to them try to convince said grandchild that it really is important to make the bed, and most likely, it won't bother me one bit because it won't be my job to teach that anymore. After they leave, I'll make that bed with clean sheets (and no hospital corners) where it will stand ready to welcome the next guest to grace its' room. And I will smile again.