As I began to write this blog, I knew the subject was beds and I knew the reason why.  Read on.

I began by asking the simple question, what is a bed?

Mine is many things, a haven, a retreat, a cozy gathering place for family. It’s old and beaten down and treasured. It’s my favorite spot in my house. Laying in bed and watching TV is exquisite. That’s the noun version.

But when used as a verb it takes on an entirely different meaning.  “settle down and sleep or rest for the night, typically in an improvised place” So in essence your bed is where you make it and it’s design is what fits you. It doesn’t have to have a frame. Maybe it is a hammock, or a sectional couch or a mattress on the floor. Wherever you rest for the night and sleep well is your bed.

In the last few months, I watched a couple of young men experience bedding with a flexibility and charm that I admire greatly.  These boys 7 and 9 slept on the floor, the couch, the sectional, the chair. They were versatile and never complained. I would have complained, loudly, but I am an adult, right?

We should all have the flexibility and resilience of children. Go with the flow or the waves.. even if they seem like a tsunami at times. Ride it out, there is goodness at the end.

When they moved to their own home, one of the boys commented that it was okay that the mattresses were on the floor, but it was “our” room.

Somewhere in the middle of the giant extended sleepover, there was this older woman who kept offering these beds in her attic. I didn’t really listen and then one day I did. Money was tight and she was offering 2 free beds, the only catch was they were in her attic and needed to be retrieved.

She had no idea what condition they might be in after 20 years in an attic, they were a little dusty and white with stenciled hearts, not exactly boys beds, but solid in build and they held promise. So the transformation began from white girls beds into deep blue boys beds.

The beds were painted and distressed with love. During the process, the youngest asked me if I missed a spot in the painting and I explained they were going to be distressed.

You want it to look old on purpose? Yes.

I was there on the day the beds reached their home, and the genuine joy that those boys showed  brought tears to my eyes. They exclaimed excitedly, “tonight we can sleep in our beds” and “I am putting my secret stuff underneath”. These are the words of true gratitude and thankfulness from the mouths of boys.

As I look back now that they are snoozing each night in their own beds, I realize that it took a village to build a bed, or two in this case. Had it not been for the persistent voice of a kind woman who never forgot she had some beds, and a grandma who thinks all furniture can be saved, a man who climbed into the unknown attic to search for the beds and two small very patient boys this may not have happened.

Open your eyes to everyday miracles, and you will find them, maybe under the bed or in the attic.

Until Next Time,



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