Signs of Hope
Making the bed and a yellow couch
I made my bed today. That may seem like no big deal, but trust me, it is a sign of hope in my life.
I don’t think this will be witty. It takes more energy than I have today to be witty. But, I do have hope. Here’s the deal with the bed.
My mother has always made her bed and it was a mystery to her that she raised a child who did not. I never have. I didn’t when I was a teenager still living with her and I didn’t as an adult. I gave birth to two children, was married for almost thirty years, and still left my bed unmade every single day.
I wish I knew the exact date of the big change, but I don’t. Depression is a reality in my life and it is progressive. It is also cyclical, so some days are better than others. After I lost my last full-time job I plummeted. It was the kind of fall that you can’t really see until after you have picked yourself up again. Looking back, I am surprised Hubby didn’t try to have me hospitalized! For two years, I basically stayed in the bed. No problem because I never made the bed. It was always ready to wrap me in its loving arms.
Sometime during the pandemic I got up. I don’t know. Maybe seeing the entire world plummet into the pit woke me up or something. Like I said, I wish I could celebrate the exact date it happened. All I know is that one day I got out of the bed, put on some “real clothes,” and thought to myself,
“Hmm, I think I’ll make the bed.”
I didn’t think, “Hmm, I think I’ll make the bed every day now.” I just made the bed. And, while there have been a couple of mornings that I left for church or something else and let it go, for the most part, every single day since then I have made my bed.
There is no way for me to find the language that will adequately communicate to you why this is such a sign of hope. All I can do is hope you see it. It isn’t that a whole lot has changed in my life. I still spend most of my time in my room. But, I’ve bought the cutest little sofa to sit at the end of our bed now! It is yellow and I love it. Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve wanted a bedroom that also has “a sitting area.” Seriously, this is something I’ve said to Hubby so many times. The sofa doesn’t really count as that. I imagine a bay window and a couple of chairs with a table in between. But, it is still the closest I’ve ever come. Now, that I write that. The yellow sofa must be a sign of hope too.
When I was teenager, I had posters all over my walls — Michael Jackson, Prince, Michael J. Fox, Rob Lowe, and Kirk Cameron. The walls needed to be painted. Mom wanted to me to remove the posters. We made a deal that I would take them all down IF I could choose the color we painted my bedroom. Yellow. Bright yellow was the color I chose and it made me so happy.
Even with a yellow bedroom, I didn’t make my bed — unless Mom insisted which she sometimes did. But, at some point in the middle of a global pandemic (which is still going on btw, please get vaccinated!) I got up and made my bed. At some point later, I realized I had been doing it consistently — and I don’t do ANYTHING consistently. Once I became aware of the fact that I was making my bed every day for the first time in all my almost 49 years, I was overcome with the feeling of hope.
As long as I get up and make the bed, even if it is only long enough to do the actual making of the bed, even if I lay back down on top of the comforter, even if I never leave my room that day, I still know there is hope because I made my bed.
I made my bed today.
