Blue

I have wonderful childhood memories of bedtime. My dad would sing us the Lonesome Cowboy song. My mom would tell us stories of Murphy and the Green Fairy (stories I hope she writes up and publishes one day) and sing Edelweiss. And in those moments when my heart was troubled, my mom would listen to my worries, and tell me to think of "blue".

As she talked about "blue", in my mind I would sink into their ocean-sized waterbed with it's baby blue bedspread. I would imagine looking up at the sky and watching lines of white streak the sky as planes passed overhead. And somehow, as I thought about "blue", the turbulence in my little soul eased and I could sleep.

In the past few weeks I've been decorating and hanging pictures in our newest home, and thinking about the style that suits me. I love the way things have come together, but my favorite room in the house is our bedroom. I knew when we found the perfect bedspread. Every time I walk into my room, I see it, and it brings me a gentle kind of joy. That's silly, right? It's a bedspread. But I looked around my room tonight and realized there is blue everywhere in this room. I've added splashes of color and pictures to the wall, but when I walk in this room, I see "blue".

Sometimes when I lie down at night the world starts to feel overwhelming. I can't stop thinking about my incomplete task list, the comment I should have kept to myself, the pregnancy and health of the baby, and even the boogeyman who might be lurking outside while Brad is still at work (he never goes away no matter how old you get). And sometimes I still wake up from a terrible nightmare and can't shake the awfulness from my conscious soul. In those moments, when all else fails me, I still think of "blue".

Our "blue" room