My Green Blankie

Published October 30, 2013 by Dawn

“WHERE’S MY GREEN BLANKIE!” I’m sure my mom just cringed inwardly every time she heard me shriek this through the house at bedtime. With tears streaming down my face, I’d stand in the middle of the living room, wringing my hands and screaming, “I CAN’T GO TO BED WITHOUT IT! WHERE IS SHE?!” Yep, I was Linus … the kid with the blankie problem.

I actually still have it. I took it out to reminisce before I sat down to write today. My green blankie. My grandma made it when I was, like, three. In my house, everyone is aware that: 1.) It’s older than you are, and you don’t touch or play with antiques. And 2.) I love it just as much as I love you, so … not playing around here. Sounds ridiculous, I know. But for many years, my blankie was more dear to me than my mother’s sanity. Or the peace of anyone else in the house. Or sleep. I couldn’t sleep without it. Not that I did much of anything without it, but if perchance I managed to misplace it while wrapped up in something else, I definitely noticed at bedtime. I did not do bedtime without my blankie.

I know the technical term for it: the security blanket. Some kids have them and some kids don’t, but for those of us who do, something deep within our psyche is dependent on this object. We don’t eat or sleep without it, it goes everywhere with us and no one else understands our attachment to it. You can’t. And I can’t explain it. I loved it (still do, actually), although now that I’m an adult, I don’t “need” it anymore. I quit crying over it sometime in elementary school and  “broke up” with my green blankie when I was a teenager … which I’m sure is later than most people, but whatever. Anyway, back to the point: it’s an object that I found security in.

As an adult, it seems that I’ve just transferred that need into other things. First it was being loved by my children. Then I added money to the list. Either would suffice to sustain me. Then it became the Bible, which directed me toward God. And I thought I had found true security. Turns out, I just became secure in the things I most wanted from Him. You know the verse, “He delights in giving us the desires of our hearts.” Well, I can get all secure in the desires of my heart, knowing they are on the horizon. But just like my green blankie, that thing disappears and I’m lost again, unable to eat or sleep. Dysfunctional. I’m not insane, I know. A friend of mine said, “Well, Dawn, welcome to the human race.” Turns out, I prize things and even the promise of receiving from God, way more than I value the true prize: God himself. I’d be unshakeable if it was all about Him. That’s how I know it’s not: I’m not unshakeable. Here lately, I have found myself more and more shaken. And this reality hurts so bad. Because I have had to admit something awful about myself: I’m not even capable of loving Him purely without His help. Oh, the humanity.

Gracious Lord,

It pains me deeply to know that I cannot even love you and find my true security in you on my own. I am truly helpless and at your mercy. Teach my heart to love you and find my security and well-being in you. Lord, how is it that I look at lesser things to sustain me, all the while holding pure gold in my hands. You are the treasure, and I have cried out for things of clay. Hold my heart and teach me how to look to you, and to delight myself in you. This I was made for, though my foolish heart does not act like it. Refine me until I know the value of your love and until I am capable of reciprocating it.

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