It’s a big blanket, and the basic cleanliness (lack thereof) of a blanket that is drug everywhere with a toddler bothers me some. I cringe when I see the spots on it, and anticipate the next time I can sneak it away from her after she’s asleep so that I can wash it. Quite frankly, I think it’s pretty gross sometimes. We don’t let her take it inside stores and church and other public places (partly because of cleanliness issues, and partly because of the terrifying thought that it could get lost somewhere), but it still accumulates a fair amount of grime through its trips down the driveway and across the garage floor.
As gross as it is, though, I would never dream of taking it from her, or of discouraging her from toting it everywhere. It provides her a comfort that nothing else can, and when her world is mysterious and strange, her blanket is a reassuring constant. I would never take that from her. When I see the glazed-over look in her eyes and the instant calm that sweeps over her when her blanket is cuddled close, I smile inside. I remember well the comfort items of my childhood, and honestly, I wish I could still find something that made me feel as safe and secure as those things did when I was little. Heaven knows that there are plenty of situations that beg for a little comfort in my life today.
When I read my devotional this morning, I couldn’t help but think of Leah and her beloved blanket. The reading centered around this verse:
God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. (Psalm 46:1)
As I read that, I envisioned my sweet little girl and the way that she – regardless of the situation – can find her strength and refuge in that blanket. If she doesn’t feel good, she wants her blanket to cuddle with, and it will make her feel better, even if it doesn’t lower her fever or clear her sinuses. If she is sleepy, she can curl up with her blanket and, even if she doesn’t fall asleep, seems to get a renewed burst of energy from that moment of rest. If she has just been disciplined, she clings to the blanket as though she believes with all her heart that it is the only friend she has. That blanket is her constant companion and, in a very real sense, her ever-present help.
Isn’t it beautiful that we – grown adults with adult lives – can still have a security blanket, too? God is right there with us, no matter what we encounter during our day. He is there for us to cry to, cling to, and embrace; when we do, we will be helped. He may not fix the situation, but He is sure to make us feel better in the midst of it. All we need to do is take Him along, reach out for Him, and He will be an ever-present help in trouble.
5 of your thoughts:
Oh, how I've witnessed the comfort that something so small can bring. I often wish that you could still find that snuggly comfort when you're not quite yourself. This is such a sweet thing. And she's such an angel.
Weezer
I thought about your post as I watched little darlin' drag her blanket across the floor of her Granddaddy's garage.
Oh no! She has a blankie? I worry about that with Noelle because I had a lovey (a teddy bear) and my mom threw it away because it had so many holes in it and she thought I didn't want it anymore and I cried for days...and I still mourn the thing. I worry that Noelle will get a lovey and then lose it and that will be the end of it and she'll never forgive me like I didn't forgive my mom. I mean, I have by this point, but I held that over her head for years and years. It was tragic.
But actually, I still have my blankie. It's crumpled up in a corner in my bedroom probably but I even took it to Spain with me.
Okay, so I wrote my first comment without actually reading the post...I wasn't disregarding your post or nullifying what you had to say. That was just my impulsive reaction to the pictures. I'm sorry!
Post a Comment