photo by Robert Couse-Baker / flikr
A friend of mine told me one day that she had gone through a terrible divorce. Which left her drained and sad and angry. She got to the place where she simply shut down. Her Mother came by one day and she told her how terrible she felt and how depressed she was. After listening for a while the Mama told her daughter, “When you feel like you can’t do anything, make your bed.” My friend said those words helped her enormously. Looking back she said that was the beginning of her journey back into real living. Make your bed. Simple words. Strong words. Make your bed.
I have thought of those words often when I have been down or when someone poured out their heart to me. Make your bed. A wise counselor told me once: “When you are depressed—move a muscle.” Do something—it might not seem like much but it could just be the beginning of your healing.
Once years ago I was Pastor of a church where things were not working out. Good folk. I just could not get a handle on things. I worked so hard there and it seemed to me that nothing I did mattered. But when you are depressed you don’t see anything clearly. A friend asked me later: “How did you get through that painful time?” “Well," I answered, I tried to move a muscle.” I was swimming a lot in those days. And I would drive out to the pool and begin my swim. Most days I felt almost nothing. But I swam and swam and swam. And that exercise helped me enormously . Slowly my depression lifted. But It would be foolish to say to those having a hard time just swim and you will make it. Nothing that matters is simple.
Make your bed. Read a book. Turn off the TV. Plant a garden. Listen to the birds. Call a friend you haven’t talked to in years. Take a walk. Maybe a run. Write a letter. Clean your windows. Pray. Meditate. Zoom if you can figure it out. Do something. Remember. Remember.
Wendell Berry the wise poet said:
“Make a story
show how love and joy,
beauty and goodness
shine out amongst the rubble.”
There are so many troubled places in the world. This virus-plague is still scary. We’ve lost so many in our country and all over the grieving world. I am losing too many of my friends. I find myself writing too many sympathy cards.
Sitting here in the comfort of my house outside the storm rages on many fronts. Some days I wonder how all this furor and hate and death will come to an end. There seems so little that I can do. But this I know. I can make my bed—but this is only the beginning of my day. And yours, too.
--Roger Lovette / rogerlovette.blogspot.com
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