This week is Make Your Bed week hosted by Crane + Conopy, an online resource for gorgeous bedding at affordable price points. They generously sent me a new white duvet and shams with handsome gray piping detail (see it here) which looks so crisp on a bed – made or unmade.
My plan with this post was to show you how I make my bed. What sheets I use (these) and how I like to layer a thin quilt (like this) for texture and warmth and how adding the perfect white duvet just adds that extra cozy, luxurious touch.
And then I caught a glimpse of my unmade bed and had this deep metaphorical moment and thought I’d share that with you instead.
Before, let me just say that I really do like a crisply made bed. And I really like white bedding (as shown here). And I appreciate companies like Crane + Canopy that make buying nice bedding basics simple and affordable.
I’ve always been a bit of a i-dotter and t-crosser.
As a child I liked my dolls lined up and my penmanship precise. There is a preschool class photo from 1982 with a smiling little red-head sitting up nice and tall with ankles crossed, hands folded, hair perfectly ringleted. It’s so typical of me. I like a tidy room, drawers all the way pushed in, dishwasher loaded just so (I’m embarrassed to admit I’m one of those).
I like a made-up bed with top sheet flipped down over a thin coverlet, a wrinkle-free duvet neatly folded at the foot of the bed, pillows all propped up in a row. I like the kids to stay off of it once it’s made and I like the feeling of walking into my room at night, pulling back the smoothed covers and snuggling in.
If my bed is made each morning, it makes me feel like my life is in order. If the rest of my day feels out of control or messy, at least my bed is crisp and put together.
But lately, I’ve noticed I haven’t been quite as regular with making the bed.
I was in my bathroom the other day putting on makeup or doing my hair or something and glanced out the doorway into our bedroom. This is what I saw:
A rumpled bed with covers haphazardly thrown back, pillows not at all symmetrical or stacked neatly, bedside tables filled with books and water glasses and bobby pins, curtains half-opened, the rod all off-centered.
And what I saw did not make me feel out of control. It did not compel me to quickly smooth the duvet or straighten the pillows or fix the curtains.
What I saw looked like life.
It looked like a welcoming spot to rest my body each night.
It looked like a quiet place to refresh my soul each morning.
It looked lived-in. Not staged. Not perfect. Not made just-so with hospital corners and starched cases and rules to stay off. It was messy and loose and approachable.
And it looked beautiful.
This may be a stretch taking cues on life from a moment of glancing at an unmade bed, but it resonates with my heart.
There is truly nothing wrong with making a neat bed or keeping a tidy house or hanging your clothes by color. These are lovely qualities that make for more organized and less chaotic household.
Yet in that moment of looking at my rumpled bed, I saw such beauty.
I want my heart to be a little more like that unmade bed.
Welcoming. Graceful. Comforting. Refreshing.
That is the beauty of an unmade bed.