The Blankets

On the eve of Christmas Eve 2022, I was tucking my daughter into bed on what must have been the coldest night of the year. The temperature was pushing below zero with the wind chill snarling near minus 20 degrees. So far, the power was holding against the gusts, keeping the electric heaters operative.

We had warmed the house and were settling in for the night. Our small supplemental propane heater in the living room would be off overnight while we slept in the bedrooms. I hoped with the electric heaters cranked up and my daughter dressed in warm pajamas that she would stay warm enough through the bitter night.

Several mismatched blankets laid across her bed, sufficient for wrapping her in a thick, heavy cocoon. We’d been adding a new blanket now and again recently as the nights got colder. She enjoyed their cozy feel and combined weightiness, and if she got too hot, she’d toss one aside. Tonight, though, we were using all the blankets, and I expected they’d stay put.

She nestled in with her pillows, plumped and propped to her liking, and I worked on situating her blankets. Perhaps it was the awareness of the blue cold of the night and the prayer in my heart for her to stay warm that caused me to become grateful and mindful of from where and whom all these covers had come to belong to her.

The cream flannel Christmas sheets and pillowcase on the bed had been pulled out for the holiday season. This was only their second Christmas. I’d been delighted to purchase them the previous year as a special treat. The sheets wore bright red cardinals perched on holly branches budded with plump red berries, patterned among brown pinecones and twigs of green needled pine. She had picked the cardinals and pinecones over the dachshunds in Christmas sweaters.

Atop her sheet was her purple Tinkerbell quilt dancing with fluttering fairies and sparkle bubbles, a throw quilt just big enough to make a good top cover on the twin bed. The quilt was a prayer blanket given to her when she was a baby by a ladies’ group from a local church. The quilt was certainly helping answer prayers for warmth tonight.

A cheery twin fleece, also purple, was next, doubled over to make it thicker. This one made me smile. Her dad and I had gotten it for her when she was about five years old to spruce up her room when she had surgery on her legs. Many nights through the years I had tucked my daughter in bed with this very blanket. She and I enjoyed its whimsical array of flowers and butterflies with heart-shaped wings in happy pinks, purples, and aqua. The pretty blanket filled me with memories of she and I sharing bedtime snuggles, stories, and prayers.

Her navy-blue and white snowflake blanket, a Christmas gift from her grandparents the previous year, was next in her cozy line of defense against the cold. Spread out wide over the others, it provided a good edge for tucking and blocking a draft and pulled up nice and high for a soft snuggle under her chin.

On the very top was one more blanket for good measure, a thick, aqua shag with matted nap on one side and smooth plush on the other. It wasn’t very big, probably best for napping curled up, but was a heavy, snuggly sort of blanket that made one feel well-covered and was still cute even though the shag had given way to tangled tufts some time ago. I could still see her picking it out from the rack at Penney’s during one of our shopping excursions to the mall. She had bought it with her own money I was pretty sure, her own money usually consisting of reward money from Papaw and Mimi for good grades or a little piece of mad money Papaw had sneaked to her.

With her covers spread across her and pulled satisfactorily to her chin, memories of moments shared, the people present in those moments, and the kindnesses of those who had given to ultimately make these blankets hers stirred a sense of gratitude and wonder within me. All these bits of life were woven together and present together, helping take care of my daughter that very night. In a moment as ordinary as pulling up the covers, the Lord opened my eyes to His hand in and on my life. It was He who brought together every provision—people, paths, resources—even blankets.

Luke 12:22-32, KJV:

"And he said unto his disciples, Therefore I say unto you, Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat; neither for the body, what ye shall put on. The life is more than meat, and the body is more than raiment. Consider the ravens: for they neither sow nor reap; which neither have storehouse nor barn; and God feedeth them: how much more are ye better than the fowls? And which of you with taking thought can add to his stature one cubit? If ye then be not able to do that thing which is least, why take ye thought for the rest? Consider the lilies how they grow: they toil not, they spin not; and yet I say unto you, that Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. If then God so clothe the grass, which is today in the field, and tomorrow is cast into the oven; how much more will he clothe you, O ye of little faith? And seek not ye what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink, neither be ye of doubtful mind. For all these things do the nations of the world seek after: and your Father knoweth that ye have need of these things. But rather seek ye the kingdom of God; and all these things shall be added unto you. Fear not, little flock; for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom."

Leah Hicks

January 8, 2023