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Sleeping Single in a Lumpy Bed
December 13, 2000
The other night when I was sleeping, I kept being awakened by the
fitted sheet on my bed. Apparently the elastic was shot on the
corner closest to my head because it kept coming untucked and
entangling me and my pillow. The thought of not only getting out
of bed, but of expending enough energy to strip the sheets off
and put new ones on seemed near torture to my groggy mind. So I
spent the night alternately being entangled by my fitted sheet
and retucking it in.
Newsflash to self: You need new sheets!
The problem is, I don't just need new sheets, I need a new bed.
True confession: I still sleep in the same twin-size bed that's
been my slumbering sanctuary since grade school, the bed that
once sported the Holly Hobbie sheets I adored when I was eight. I
remember other fitful nights of sleep in this bed, trying to get
comfortable and not knock myself out with the cast on my broken
arm — in the fourth grade! This bed has been with me through
stuffed animals, childhood nightmares, homework, and tearful
teenage traumas.
While it seems as though it should be in my parents' attic with
the other relics from my childhood, it isn't. Instead, it and my
down comforter are my only snuggle-companions on the long, cold
nights of Chicago winters. And some days, it's a stark reminder
of my singleness. It makes me think of the title of one of single
author Luci Swindoll's books: Wide my World, Narrow my Bed.
Practically speaking, the bed fits me just fine. I'm short and
don't take up much room; I don't toss and turn much. And as a
Christian single person, I obviously sleep alone. Every night.
For all of my decades of living. Sometimes I look at the
smallness of my bed and wonder if it's symbolic that I will
continue to sleep alone for all the decades to come. I mean, even
if I wanted to give into the whims of this sexed-up society,
logistically I'd have a few problems. Just what I need, one more
thing to add to my potential-husband wish list. Wanted: Knight-in-
shining-armor — with king-sized bed!
But, like I said, I need a new bed — now. All those years have
taken their toll on my poor little mattress. I've turned and
flipped it just about every way it can go, and am running out of
angles without sags and wayward springs. Recently while waiting
with friends to get seated at a restaurant, we popped into a
nearby furniture store. I wandered over to the bed section to do
some preliminary checking on prices — and nearly fainted onto one
of those beds when I spied the tag. How can something you use
primarily while asleep cost so much money? With my measly single
income, being able to afford one of these bedtime beauties is
about as likely as me finding that knight-in-shining-armor.
Questions began to run through my head: Should I try to save up
just enough to buy another single bed — since there's no
forseeable need for anything more in the near future? Will I ever
graduate to a grown-up bed? Can I eke out a few more years with
my tried-and-true bed at home? And if all I get to do in bed
right now is sleep, can't I at least have a decent place to do
so? Somehow these aren't the questions I thought I'd be asking at
this point in my life.
I didn't think I'd be buying a bed alone at this age. I'm
supposed to go bed shopping with my fiance or husband, looking at
all the options and considering how different models would look
in our home — together. We're supposed to sit on the edge of one
and lie back for a second, imagining lazy Saturday mornings
together in this bed. Instead, it's single ol' me not knowing
what to buy, not able to afford anything, and even slightly
embarrassed to buy sheets for my single bed. Wide my dreams,
narrow my choices.
But, thankfully … big my God. When I start to whine to him, I'm
reminded we were never promised fairness (at least our
understanding of it), fortunes, Sealy Posturepedic beds, or
spouses. We're simply promised God's faithfulness. These are the
times my trust in Bible verses such as "My God will meet all your
needs according to his glorious riches in Christ Jesus,"
(Philippians 4:19) and my hope in a God who provided me with two
couches — one for 25 dollars and one for free — are tested.
I think back to all the praying and Bible reading I've done over
the years and realize most of it has been in my little bed.
Somehow when I see it more as my own personal altar and less as a
blinking "single and sexless" neon sign, I'm less anxious to
replace it. Perhaps God still has a few lessons to teach me
before he provides a new place for me to practice these spiritual
disciplines. Perhaps I'm supposed to lean more into my constant
Companion and Provider before he responds to this need. I don't
know. But I'm starting to suspect that the answers won't be found
in a furniture store, in winning the lottery, or in marrying a
man with a well-furnished bedroom, but rather on my knees in
prayer — right next to my narrow bed.
Blessings!
Camerin Courtney
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