Blankets

Paraphrased excepts from Chapter 16

This "blanket dream" happened during one particularly rough stretch of days…my breakdown had forced me to leave my job, the downward spiral into another debilitating depression was well underway, the numbness of losing Mom had worn off and the agony of absence was scraping its jagged edges across my heart.

Nothing could permeate the anguish. I was so lost without my Mom, feeling terribly alone in my grief and orphanhood. I craved respite, and wondered aloud to God why living had to be such an impossibly difficult uphill climb all of the time.

You know, the whole "why me" thing.

Later that night I had this dream:

In the dream, I was sleeping on the floor of a cold and empty cabin. I kept tossing and turning, feeling the hardwood floor dig into my hips, unable to find a comfortable position. Every bone ached from the piercing damp cold. The only thing I could find to cover myself was a small tattered rag. I kept getting up and walking around the tiny cabin, searching for warmer blankets and something more comfortable to sleep on, but the cabin was empty…no furniture, no cupboards, nothing but the floor and one tattered rag. After several futile searches, I gave up and lay my aching body back down on the cold hard floor.

Then I heard the cabin door open and I was vaguely aware of someone quietly stepping into the cabin, carrying comforters, duvets, blankets and pillows and piling them against the inside wall of the cabin. I couldn’t see who it was, but somehow knew it was Him. He kept going out the door and then coming back into the cabin, each time carrying more blankets and duvets and adding them to the pile against the wall. When the wall was completely hidden behind these huge piles of blankets, He left the cabin, closing the door without saying a word.

At first I was too tired and numb from the cold to investigate. Finally, I managed to drag my weary body up off the icy floor and stood staring at this marvelous wall of blankets. I dragged dozens of the softest duvets onto the floor, laying them on top of each other to create a thick, soft mattress. Then I covered myself with lots of the biggest, thickest, warmest, coziest blankets I had ever felt before in my life, and promptly fell asleep.

When I awoke, it was clear what the dream was trying to tell me.

It was reminding me that I'm not alone, that I have already been given everything I need to soften the blows of whatever hard floor it is that I find myself lying on at any given time. My life was full of warm comforters and blankets, but depression, grief and exhaustion had once again blinded me to everything else except my own inner chaos.

Now I forced myself to look beyond my brainfog, and allowed my mind to go rooting around in my life to see what warm blankets were piled against my wall.

It startled me to realize that my blanket corner looked mighty full - there was an awesome pile of blankets stacked high against the wall of my life…a loving husband, a compassionate therapist, a new caring church community and a supportive network of faithful friends, to name a few. And always that beloved Presence whispering hope and mercy saying, "arise, little girl, and live!" if I would still my chaotic mind long enough to hear.

I used to think that doing this thing called “life” alone showed courage and determination. I thought weathering my depression alone was a kind thing to do for others, my way of protecting them from being dragged down into the darkness with me. So I ostracized myself, withdrawing from everyone so I wouldn’t burden anyone or overwhelm others with my hunger and neediness.

But I no longer think that way. We’re not meant to suffer alone. I firmly believe now that we all have everything we need, including the right people in our lives, to help us get through whatever muck and quicksand life throws our way.

We each have our own blanket corner…and it is precisely when we’re so blinded by our inner darkness [mangled thinking] that we most need those blankets, and yet it’s those times when we’re least likely to be able to see them.

But we have to dare to trust that we are not meant to do this thing called life alone.

We can dare to look and discover that we too have blankets in our lives.

Given the chaos of our mangled thinking which may try to dissuade us from trusting others, we may have to give ourselves permission to use those blankets…to accept their caring presence and genuine desire to help, to wrap our lonely lost selves in the compassion and comfort that those blankets are waiting there to provide for us, to allow the people and resources that have been piled in our blanket corner to warm and cushion us against whatever cold hard floor we find ourselves sleeping on.