My clothes they’re all covered with ancient spit up stains, or grease, or wearing thin.  Things have yet to fit around my hips shaped rounder by the 3 children who ruin what clothes that do fit.  Some days I wonder how long it will be before I walk bare.

Motherhood is like that.  This constant sacrifice of time and money and personal space and even unstained clothing to bring the little lives to a fuller life.  I need nothing new, but they with their growing limbs spring ankles and tummies and wrists bare through outgrown clothing.  And the Lord provides for these little flowers the newer petals.

And yet there’s something in me that wishes to be clothed new.  Some sin in me that grows to scorn the 6 year old shirt that still looks good or the 11 year old shoes I’ve resoled once and need to do again.  Some quiet covetousness that seeps up from those bare sinful places and claims a place in my heart where they should never be.

I confess and try to lay bare in forgiveness and contentedness.