Pillow Talk

I lost a special little friend last weekend.  I left my pillow behind at the cabin in the North Country where we had gone with our grandsons.  I considered calling the place to see if they would send it back to me.  I can hear the conversation now: 

“Did you find an old pillow in Cowboy Cabin #4?  The one with mascara stains and drool marks on it?  Yep, that’s the one.  Hey, save that one for me, will ya.”

I decided against the call. 

But I am a little sad.  It was so comfortable and had that “Velveteen Rabbit” realness to it.  It can’t be replaced for how do you go shopping for a new pillow that comes with old memories attached? 

By nature, I am all about comfort - comfortable routine, comfortable relationships and the oxymoron of a comfortable God.  But I am sensing that along with a change in sleeping comforts, there are also other changes on the horizon.  

One morning at the first of the year, before my feet had even hit the floor, I awakened with a sentence marching across the screen of my sleep aroused mind.  It was almost palpable.

"Risk is the elimination of a dying soul." 

Risk - a word I have always tried to avoid.  I link it closely with its neighbors, fear and failure.  I was the PE student who feigned illness rather than saunter up to the Jr High sawhorse and get wedged on top.  Serving opportunities at church have to be the perfect fit so as not to expose my inadequacies.  And decisions.  I chew the options over and over again like a dog with a bone.

But since that morning revelation, I have begun to see God’s Hand gently nudging and rearranging my heart.  I am learning that only in risk is there true comfort - His comfort..  And 2 Corinthians 1:3-4 reminds me that the purpose of God’s comfort is to share it.   It is never mine to keep but is to be passed on.  

And if the One who had no place to lay His Head can comfort me, I can sacrifice an old pillow.