C is for CUSHIONS

I hate cushions. At the last count, we had sixty seven of the wretched things in our house. This doesn't include the ones that have been recently replaced and disappeared from public view but are lurking somewhere on the premises. Based on the fact that my survey involved nine rooms, that's an average of almost seven and a half cushions per room. Is this excessive?

Five of the cushions, one very large and four medium sized, adorn the marital bed when it is not occupied. This must be a woman thing, me thinks, for who else would take the time and energy to not only make a bed every morning but also complete an artistic arrangement of cushions near the bed head. At night, sufficient more energy is expended in removing them to the floor where they then present a sizeable obstacle for any person, attempting to circumnavigate to the far side of the bed in the dark. The problem is compounded by the presence of a large, soft puppy, which returned from one of our holidays and though it requires no feeding nor makes any noise, I think I heard it snigger once or twice when I fell headlong over the impromptu barricade of material on my nightly journey to sleep.

And the problems don't end there. It is impossible to book a seat in the living room as a mixture of black leather, petrol blue and beige cushions squat nightly on the settee, the reclining chair and the single seater. So most evenings we all just watch television together though sometimes I'm pretty sure they hide the remote when I'm at work. We have other seats in the house that were obviously never intended for human use at all, unless you wish to sit two feet higher in the air and also I've noticed lately that some of these dreaded cushions now occupy positions where there are no seats at all, like , for example, the tops of cabinets and dressing tables. To invite visitors to sit in our conservatory would be an embarrassment as the couch has at least five cushions that occupy the total seating area, even if they are arranged in a symmetrical picture and obviously pleasing on the eye.

So I ask myself, what is the point of a cushion? Did the furniture maker not construct a comfortable enough settee or chair, considering that they aren't cheap to buy? Is it only for decoration or is there a genuine concern for our well being and comfort during the long winter evenings. After all, the blessed things take up most of the space that we are meant to occupy and I'm sure I'm not the first person in history who ends up holding the cushion on my lap or tossing it onto the floor in front. I think the answer lies in the fact that my wife suffers from cushion addiction. This may not be as serious or indeed life threatening as some of our modern vices but it is, nevertheless, a condition that needs urgent help! Such is her love for these pillow-like bundles that, for many years, she has taken to making her own cushions and just the other day, I heard her whisper to herself, in a shop, that she had found a lovely bit of material that would make at least another two or three. I managed to divert her thoughts long enough, by convincing her that she could probably buy them for less than the price of the material and quickly ushered her towards the exit. Even when we enter a furniture warehouse, her gaze always seems directed towards the soft padded structures lying around rather than the chairs, tables and sofas.Now I find myself encouraging her to visit clothes and shoe shops rather than fabric and furnishing stores, in the vain hope that it is not too late to cure her addiction, but occasionally I still catch her smuggling one or two soft padded objects into the house under the cover of the grocery bags.

I've thought of sending her to 'Cushions Anonymous' or making her sit in a room with only a wooden table and chairs but I fear this might be too drastic action and anyway she's likely just to take off her cardigan and fold it into the shape of a cushion. Is help at hand? I'd like to meet the person who gave her that first cushion and her friends are no help either for one of them bought her a cushion for Christmas. Doesn't she realise the damage it's doing to the inside of her house? OK, I'm joking, really, I don't mind cushions at all and I do see the artistic side of someone who can arrange such objects in a tasteful and symmetrical manner and choose colours that match in with the general decor of a room, while providing a greater degree of comfort, even if us menfolk would prefer just to pitch them all in the middle of the floor.

God's love is like a cushion surrounding me. The Psalmist writes in chapter 119 'May your unfailing love be my comfort.' But there are those who want to throw that comfort away to make more room for themselves. They have no place for God nor His love and then they wonder what has gone wrong in their lives. Through His love, He comforts us in our sadness, in our loss, when we mourn and when we are in the valley. But He also comforts us in our good times, provides a place of rest for us and His love encourages us to return daily to Him for more. Why else would the Psalmist write in that oh so famous chapter 23, 'He makes me lie down in green pastures,He leads me beside quiet waters,He restores my soul.' Paul refers to Him as 'the God of all comfort' and One 'who comforts us in our troubles' and I know He has sent His Holy Spirit, the Comforter, to live within us when we believe.

One night, as a storm raged on Galilee, Jesus found comfort as He slept below deck on a cushion or pillow, before rising to calm the storm and bring comfort to His disciples. Where do you find comfort during your own personal storms?