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Goodnight, Sherry

“By the seventh day, God had finished the work he had been doing; so on the seventh day and made it holy, because on it he rested from all the work of creating that he had done.” Genesis 2:2

As a teenager, I loved spending the night at my Aunt Debbie’s. She was the big sister I never had, exposing me to music, movies, and fashion. Life was never the same after she took me to my first real hair salon, where the stylist pampered me with a neck and head massage. I wanted to emulate her in all ways, but there was one way we were vastly different. She appreciated extra rest on the weekend, while I was forever an early riser, waking up as the sun peaked over the horizon. Wide awake, words were itching to escape after the night of sleep had bottled up my extroverted voice. So, she gently asked me not to disturb her until 10:00am. For an extrovert, this admonishment felt like a sentence of silence on the couch.

It is interesting how we invest in different areas in our lives, buying the necessary tools and gadgets to make our lives comfortable. From Alexa, garlic presses, and hair dryers, we hope the investment will make it easier to turn off the lights, make dinner, and get ready for work. But only in recent years has it felt like there is a consumer push to invest in something that we should be doing at least 8 hours a night—sleep. Cooling pillows, sound machines, rings to track sleep, and black-out curtains are just some of the ways to help us sleep better.

One of the most important items for good sleep is a good mattress, and Terry and I desperately needed a new one. Ours was 11 years old, and it showed the canyons of our bodies and a mountain down the middle. Not only was the mattress uncomfortable, but our pillows also no longer held our heads like marshmallow clouds. Even the sheets were starting to show wear. It was time for a bedroom overhaul.

As I was doing research on what mattress to buy, I realized I have changed since my early teens. I enjoy sleeping in, always sleeping longer than my husband, a significant role reversal in our marriage. I find the extra sleep restores me both physically and mentally. It helps me face challenges with a clear mind and increases my productivity at work. It also helps me think clearly when emotional stress enters my life. And I realize, God had it right. He created the night and day and said it was good. He created a time to rest first, and then a time for us to be productive.

Yet, why does it still feel like a luxury to start my day at 8:30 or 9 am on a Saturday? Why do I feel a need to justify it by reminding myself that I have an auto-immune disorder?  Beyond sleep, why is it easy to tell my husband to stop doing things and find something relaxing to do, yet I feel guilty when I curl up on a couch to read a mystery? Why do we feel like we need to fill all our waking moments by checking off things on a to-do list?

I know I have written about this before, yet I still need a reminder. I need to remind myself that rest is good; that the root word of restoration is rest; and I believe strongly in a God who brings restoration to the broken world. If He, as our Creator, prioritized rest from the beginning, I need to take note and prioritize it in my own life.

I grew up in a family that borderline idolized a strong work ethic. It was common for my uncles to work all the overtime they could. They embodied that lesson learned from my grandfather, who worked two full-time jobs: farming and working in a factory. Yet, of my four uncles, only one has been able to enjoy his retirement. Two died unexpectedly before they could retire, and one was just getting into the groove of his retirement before his unexpected death. Their hard work was admirable, but I sometimes wonder, what if they had skipped the occasional overtime? Would it have given them more time to rest and do the things they enjoyed, like flying a parachute plane, going up to the cabin, or simply resting? They all worked hard to create good lives for their families, and they also enjoyed spending time with their children, but how many more memories could have been created?

I love the work I do, helping a non-profit by creating volunteer opportunities and building relationships in the community to increase awareness and support for the organization. It is easy to work all day long and not take the time off I need when I have evening and weekend events. But, like my uncles, it is not going to hurt me to rest. I need to write, not because it’s productive, but because it restores me. I need to read because it inspires me. I need to hang out with friends and get a pedicure or go for ice cream, because it fills me. Rest is good. And I need to remind myself that if I have a healthy work/rest balance, my mental, physical, and emotional status will align in a healthier manner.

The new mattress feels amazing, and the pillows are like marshmallow clouds. We must still tweak a few things in the bedroom, including getting a new bed frame so we can attach our new headboard. But we are moving in the right direction, and we are getting better rest.

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Gallery of Art

“He has made everything beautiful in its time:” Ecclesiastes 3:11 NIV

As a child, our walls were bare, except for the 1970’s octagon shadow box filled with seeds, grass, and dried flowers my mom received as a wedding gift. She eventually purchased a picture or two from a popular MLM company. With oak veneer frames, the pictures featured children with washed out peach palates and country blue clothes. In Maslov’s hierarchy of needs, my mom expended her energy on getting dinner on the table and paying the bills by working overtime in a diecast factory, setting aside any idea of creating beauty.

As I entered my teens, my artistic style budded by plastering magazine pictures of Duran Duran, Tom Wopat (yes, I was one of the few who chose Luke over Bo), and Andrew McCarthy across my walls with scotch tape. In college, the fangirl pictures came down, and I hung Anne Geddes prints and inspirational sayings on my dorm walls. After college, I discovered discount design stores and commercial art. Later, the 2010s highlighted the modern farmhouse look, coupling chicken wire with inspirational scriptures declaring my Christian faith. I jumped on the bandwagon, including a large “Welcome to our Nest” sign on my living room wall.

Somewhere along the way, I discovered art and dreamed of having some original artwork on my walls. My Aunt Brenda, an artist, created a picture of cypress trees in the Tuscan countryside for us. I hung this picture as a prized possession, hoping someday to add more to my walls. Meanwhile, I continued to shop at discount stores for artwork, pleased with the esthetic I was creating.

About six years ago, Terry and I spent a weekend away in West Chester, exploring the Brandywine Museum of Art. We fell in love with George Weymouth’s landscapes, along with the fact that he had a Wisconsin connection, being a friend of Herb Kohler. We bought two prints and quickly framed them. It was then that I realized that art was attainable for me. I started hunting for treasures to fill my walls.

At art fairs and local markets, I felt like a child digging through a treasure chest, hunting for the perfect print. I would hold one up and ask Terry’s opinion, only to set it aside because I thought I would find something better. I didn’t know what I wanted, I just knew I would love it when I found it. Some I passed on with regrets, and some I passed on because of budget constraints, but I continued the hunt. Eventually, I found a fruit print in Charleston, SC along with a vase of flowers print from Lancaster’s own Lucy Smucker (her parents own Nooks, one of my favorite independent bookstores). A friend gave Terry and I some artwork that had been collected by her late father-in-law, and soon I had enough pieces to create a gallery wall.

This weekend, while the massive heat dome oppressed our area, Terry hung my gallery wall. Despite missing a few 5×7 frames I plan to fill with original artwork done by my grandchildren; I love how it turned out. It makes the room feel complete, emanating beauty from the dining room throughout our living space.

I may not have celebrated America’s 250th with parades, BBQs, or fireworks. But knowing some of the founding fathers’ art collections, I believe that when they wrote that “all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of happiness,” that they were envisioning a country where people could flourish. Human flourishing is not only about providing basic needs, such as food and shelter. It is about creating a world where beauty is celebrated both in nature and in the creativity of human beings.

Today, my mother is no longer hustling in a factory and raising four children. Despite her health problems, she chooses to surround herself with things that bring her joy. It may not be paintings, but instead artistic tchotchkes that delight her, along with music that fills her life with beauty. At any age, we can make a conscious choice to pursue beauty. It points us toward our creator and helps us flourish.