Pillow Talk

By Jerry Mack Grubbs

Is it possible that during all these years I didn’t know who I was sleeping with? Or better still, did I just take it for granted that if I lost my bed partner I could easily replace it with another. I never thought much about my pillow until it turned up missing. How can something turn up and still be missing is a mystery to me. Or at least that phrase is what I would call an oxymoron; turning up and being missing all at the same time. The loss of my pillow was like a good friend had disappeared. Funny how comforting a pillow can be. You fluff it, fold it and wrap your arms around it as you drift off to sleep. During the night you might push it aside or even push it off the bed onto the floor, but eventually you awaken, stretch, and wonder where that pillow went. With eyes half open and consciousness teetering back and forth like a staggering drunk, you grope here and there for that pillow. Clutching it once more you tug and pull at it until you get it positioned comfortably back under your head and drift of to sleep.

When morning comes you fluff it, pat it into shape and cover it with the bedspread and think nothing more about the pillow until it is time once more to lie down for another night’s sleep. If we aren’t careful that is what we begin to do in our relationships with others. We pull them close to us when we have a need and think little of them when we are busy with the cares and challenges of life. In all honesty, I don’t think that anyone would choose to be someone else’s pillow, to be fluffed and patted and pushed away until a need arises. Then, when that need presents itself, expect the pillow to be right there where it was left just waiting to be of service once more.

Now I’m not suggesting that we carry our pillows around under our arm all day. We would get strange looks for sure. And heaven forbid what others might think. But if we are mindful during the day of the benefit those comforting pillows bring as we slumber through the night, we would be more appreciative and respectful of them. Do you have pillows in your life that you use at will and discard when you no longer have a need? I wonder how the pillows would feel if they had feelings. Thank goodness they don’t have feelings. We punch them, stuff them, fold them, and then drool on them at the very moment they are providing us the best level of comfort. Even when we travel it is comforting to snuggle down into a familiar pillow and close our eyes in search of that dream that tantalizes the imagination.

As I conclude my journal writings tonight and list the things that I am grateful for I should list the pillows of my life, the ones who have listened to my complaints, my disappointments and have even been witnesses to my prayers that often reach no farther than the bed covers because my heart has wandered while my lips recited the words.
But they have never complained, never given unsolicited advice but have silently fulfilled their duty as we punch them, fluff them, and fold them to meet our own needs.

Do you have people in your life that you have treated as pillows? I imagine you are somewhat like me, ready to think of someone else you know who could certainly use this little message. “It’s too bad old Charlie didn’t hear this. Someone needs to give him a good Indian burn for the way he treats his wife and kids.” Yes, it is easier to point out the faults of others than make that inward assessment and pluck the cactus needles in our own rear end. We often choose to sit on our own problems no matter how painful they are and point with a judgmental finger at the weaknesses of another. Even if you sit on your pillow instead of lay your head on it, you can still feel the cactus needles in your rear end. I’ve never heard a pillow complain or blame someone else for its problems, even when someone is sitting on it. I know a few people like that. But not many.