A place to lay your head…
Last night I slept in a “taco” bed, you know, one of those which sinks and you are in the middle trying to get out or turned over…
It made me reminisce of beds I have slept in over the years…
Blowup beds…
Ones which slowly leak during the night…
Ones which immediately leak upon blowing into…
Ones which squeak when moving …
Ones which are too short …
Ones which have weird blowup pattern …
Ground…
Plain dirt..
Dirt with a few rocks…
Gravel..
Dirt with twigs…
Mattresses….
Taco…
Hard as rock…
Thin pad on cement…
Water bed..
Thermo, cooks you while you try to sleep…
Sponge…
Kapok…
Down…expensive or cheap…can feel each feather end or not…
Mattresses that you slide to the middle or off the side…
Old, smelly….
Tent city/forts made of pillows and blankets…
The bathroom floor when I was sick or a child was so sick…
Comfortable mattresses….😊😇
A fun exercise of remembering those odd little pieces of time….sleeping or trying to sleep
Jesus, the Son of God, left heaven to first sleep in a manger…I am sure his parents made it as comfortable as they could…
Then later …
Jesus replied, “Foxes have dens and birds have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head.”
Matt.8.20
Thank YOU…
No place to lay my head…
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RfxnLJpRXY4&list=RDRfxnLJpRXY4&start_radio=1
A cloud without color cloaks the dawn
As I cling to my earnest resolve
With faltering footsteps and fire in my heart
I fight to stand up when I fall
Though the drone of defeat drums a deafening roar
And mocks each advance that I make
I refuse to retire or relinquish my hold
On the righteousness I undertake
I'm a pilgrim of Heaven
This world's not my own
I may walk by myself but I'm never alone
No place to lay my head
Like my Lord who came before
Though the birds have their nest
I have nowhere to rest
And there is no place, no place
No place to lay my head
Like My Lord
Though the birds have their nest
I have nowhere to rest
And there is no place to lay my head
The struggle is sweetness and pleasure the pain
As I walk where the Savior has been
Adversity howls down the mountains I climb
With the fury of Golgotha's wind
The rendering of pride is the sword in my side
And surrender the nails in my hands
Down my own way of sorrows I carry my cross
On a journey that's just as He planned
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