a theology of bedrooms

i like to think of the bedroom as the veritable “holy of holies” in a house.  “let marriage be held in honor among all, and let the marriage bed be undefiled.”  our pastor was once pointing out the unique relationship a husband has with his wife.  the privilege god has given us of knowing and relating to someone so well.  how it is something you can’t share with anyone else.  in fact, the moment you do so it becomes cheap and tawdry.  holiness always requires some degree of separation.

which is why i think satan is so eager to litter the master bedroom with laundry, porn, and netflix.  “come on in folks, we’re having a party!”  the glory of marriage is easily overlooked, easily smudged, easily vandalized.  but done right, it means business.  it shows the glory of the gospel, the way of christ with his church, the mystery of the trinity, and is the very savor of life (or death) in your home.  everything else is downstream.

so i say all the more reason to do it up right.  (like i need any excuses, but i still take ’em.)  anyways, when i started outfitting my room i noticed that i automatically gravitated towards light.  you know, the opposite of a bar: where there are no windows, the tv’s are droning football, no one’s swept under the booths in years, and the place smells like sweaty socks.  and don’t get me wrong, i know dark walls and black-out shades help you sleep, but really, it’s just immoral.  (sorry.)  just like i know you have to fold laundry somewhere, but the marriage bed simply isn’t the place.  and while watching tv helps you relax, i imagine your wife doesn’t really need you ignoring her in your doped out, espn stupor.  i say kick it all out and make some babies.  or you could even talk to each other and stuff.  you know, if you were desperate.

but enough of that, who likes my marimekko sheets?   the downside of having an unjustifiably fabulous bed is that i can’t get out of it.  i really can’t.  which is what happens when you go through sears and buy the mattress you sink into the deepest when you flop on it.  “i’ll take it!”  and things were never the same again.  especially after i got the down pillows and comforter.  i plan on throwing in the towel entirely someday and getting a down mattress topper.  the kids can make their own breakfast and teach themselves math.

here is the hutch i finally painted white.  it took me months to get around to it.  and when i was finished i walked back into the bedroom and saw the nightstand.  gah!  way to go mavis.  in another month or so i remembered to paint the nightstand as well.

i’ve also been collecting bits of milk glass when i find them cheap at yard sales.  my husband wasn’t exactly impressed, but those could be precious moments figurines and porcelain dolls up there.  or worse, giant gold filigree candle holders in the shape of birds….

seriously, those are awesome.

another hurdle was framing this oil pastel i made in college when i first met my husband.  (which, once you think about it, should have triggered at least a few warning signals in his sadly vulnerable brain.  but it didn’t.)

framing something this big is either quite impossible or $200, which is really one and the same.  so i bought pre-framed ugly art, gutted it, and spray painted the whole tuscany business white for a total of $35.  it looks like $35, but at least it’s on the wall.

my other novelty is my vanity.  that i use as such.  a woman should have a certain mystery about her production.  dressing tables are naturally glamorous and wickedly enchanting to little girls who like to eat lipstick and crush eye-shadow.  what is not glamorous are slimy and molding beauty products littering every flat surface in the bathroom.  plus, who wants to get done-up while standing next to the commode?  where is the dignity in that?

what was funny is that i still left my blow dryer in my husband’s bathroom.  because, as you know, blow dryers are ugly and hard to decorate with.  he didn’t care.  he kept saying things about me electrocuting the children while they tried to brush their teeth and such nonsense.  so i finally sat down in a huff to blow dry my hair at my vanity.  two seconds later i was like, “hey…this is niiiiice.”  and now she can never go back.


1 Response to “a theology of bedrooms”

  1. 1 The Nightmare from Washington. October 12, 2012 at 8:31 pm

    All I have to say is that that is just way, Way, WAY too much white. Multiple colors of chaotic rainbows would be better? Or maybe a kind of abstract, multiple colors, flung on a wall with zealous glee, from the tip of a overly indulged paintbrush kind of look?

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