Under the Bed

Sunday mornings feel good. It’s the day I look back at what’s been accomplished for the week. A good bit got done, but there’s more to do.

This week I worked on my bedroom.

It had become a place to sleep and not a place to dwell. I was laying in bed one night and all I could think about was what was under my bed.

When was the last time I looked under my bed? What was being stored there? When was the last time it was thoroughly cleaned?

The next morning, I found the answers.

My daughter had a guitar case and a couple of plastic bins of clothing under my bed. She has a platform bed and cannot store anything underneath, so I offered my space. It was a collection of dust and dog hair under there, so this had to change. The top of her wardrobe was empty, so I placed the bins up there. The guitar case is by the back door awaiting storage.

I moved the bed to another location in the room and cleaned the floor during it’s move.

Also, as I was laying in bed that night, I found myself staring at an empty wall wondering what time it was. I rolled over and grabbed my phone from the bedside table, but the light hurt my eyes. I wanted a clock on that wall.

clock
It says Kensington Station, London.

“Go big, or go home,” is my thinking.

After I purchased the clock, I spotted something else that was sweet. It was just a little pull chain for the ceiling fan, but it spoke to my heart.

heart

Get it? Spoke to my heart…Hah! (That’s for you Little Fears )

My daughter would exit the room on that one.

The chain was long and had to be shortened. I tried living with it full length, but it was designed for a high ceiling, which I don’t have. It bopped my head whenever I walked under the fan. Being hit on the head by a blingy heart is not a bad thing, but became a little annoying after a while.

The heart is just a tiny detail for the room.

I see God working in the details of my life.

I see you God and you have my heart.

Someday’s You’re Living

My daughter backed her Jeep into my truck.

It was my mistake for leaving it sitting there.

I hadn’t pulled all the way into my side of the driveway. My daughter was with me at the time and I was trying to leave her extra room to get out of the truck. The tree branches are taking over. We forgot it was sitting there when she backed out the following morning. 😦

She was upset, but I wasn’t bothered. It hurt her Jeep more than my truck. Her Jeep is relatively new, and Steve, (my truck) is ten years old.

Walking through the house this morning I noticed it’s time to vacuum. I’m pretty sure I just did a couple of days ago. Big white dog is shedding like a mad dog, but you know what?

He’s worth every hair I walk through.

I’ve dropped the ball on a few things this week, but I’m living. Just living life through the bumps, scrapes and vacuum bag full of dog hair.

A few days later, my daughter still felt guilty for backing into my truck. I told her, “I love you more than Steve.” She gasped and asked, “Was that ever in question?” We both laughed, but there was a day, when she was small, that I wouldn’t have driven him until he was fixed.

Leave evidence that someday’s you’re living.