I have been struggling with the urge to buy new clothes.  There is nothing wrong with new clothes, in fact, they can be wonderful.  The reason I am struggling is that I know that my clothes are not my real issue. Sure, I am a garage sale dresser, sure, I really need to watch the cookies (instead of eating them), but my real issue is that I want to leave my sadness behind.  I want to leave my anger behind.  It would be nice to leave grief and fear behind as well.

Since I know dieting is no fun and sadness dogs the human condition, new clothes seem to be the easiest route to happiness.

I think about Tamar tearing her embroidered sleeves and the parable of the wedding goer, scorning his new clothes and I think about mine–not mint cool in its season or glittery interesting or chic…

No. the clothing of Heaven.  The garments of Truth. The items of clothing I would have to wear to feel that I had walked through the doors of safety into Home.

You can wear your fluffy slippers at home, or pajama pants and a Batman cape.  That is why it is Home.

The place where only the clothing of sorrow is no longer

necessary.

our faces clothed in light