Playhouse, August 29, 2012


he world and its high-tech inventors confirm the fact that there’s a vast number of serious thinkers.  I am not in that number.  I fall into that category of persons who say:  Why didn’t I think of that?  The plastic mayonnaise containers that replaced the glass jars that always broke instead of bouncing were grand ideas.  Why didn’t I think of that?  The pre-measured detergent packets that pop into the washer – minus all the fuss or  measurements was ingenious.  Why didn’t I think of that?

My thinking falls more into the domestic category – the simpler questions that don’t seem to have a logical answer.  For instance, there’s one question I ask myself every morning:  Why do I make the bed?

I haven’t always asked myself that question.  When I was a child, my parents taught me to make up my bed and designated that chore as a daily morning to-do.  I don’t remember questioning the chore or failing to comply with it.  If I slept in it, I made it up.

Did I add that I’m a slow thinker?  Only in the past few years as a grandparent have I pondered  this searching question.

There are logical scenarios where the practice would be practical – a grand party with a crowd so large it would spill over into the bedrooms – a prearranged visit by a politician with a camera crew to film virtual reality of the middle class – an open house or a military training maneuver associated with basic training. 

Othel said the military was all into bed-making.  During his basic training, he was taught to make a bed so tight that an officer could flip a coin on it and the coin would bounce.  The only logic I could see in that would be early preparation for future grandchildren bouncing instead of coins!

Most weekends, Othel and I leave the house for studio work and won’t be back until after work.  That means I make the bed in the a.m. and the next time I see it, I unmake it for bedtime.  There have been no visitors the entire day.  Where’s the logic in that bed-making?

I timed it – 50 to 55 seconds and two rounds to each side of the bed every morning.  Round it off to one minute per day.  That’s a little over six hours per year spent in making my bed.

Why do I continue to do it?  It’s a habit molded into my lifestyle by my parents.  I can’t explain it or give a reasonable explanation for repeating it every morning.  I only know that on rare occasions I’ve walked away from the disheveled covers only to turn back and do what I’ve always done to an unmade bed – make it!

Wouldn’t it be brilliant if parents could (or would) train their children to read God’s Word every morning – to pray without ever missing a day?  To train them so that it would become a behavioral pattern for life would truly be life-changing and transforming.  Now that’s something to think about!