God wants me to have lots and lots of clothes.
He has proven this to me repeatedly.
(I am tempted to say ‘She’ when I refer to God, especially as related to fashion. But I know better. I have been certain for a long time that God is male. How do I know? Periods. Let’s face it, if God were a woman, She would have come up with a more convenient fertility technique than menstrual cycles. Every month? For about forty years? Come on.)
Anyway, God wants to me have lots and lots of clothes.
There are the obvious reasons, of course:
- He gave me exquisite fashion sense, and an infallible talent for choosing just the right cami for the right cardigan.
- He gave me a nice-sized disposable income.
- He gave me a husband who built me a closet the size of Rhode Island. (This was reciprocal – he got a garage the size of Vermont.)
And just this week, God performed actual miracles as proof of His love.
His love of my wardrobe.
Over the past few months, I bought several new jeans, cardigans, and workout clothes, so my closet is a little tight. Even Rhode Island can get congested in high season.
(I also bought four new swimsuit pieces – two tankini tops and a panty bottom and a skirt bottom – but I am proud to report that they don’t take up quite as much room as I feared they would.)
So I decided it might be time for a “purge”. Yes it’s closet-cleaning time.
I took out two large garbage bags and started on the pants side of my closet.
And that’s when the miracles started happening.
Everything I tried on was fabulous.
Of course I know that if I bought it, it must have been wonderful at one time. But I was sure some things wouldn’t fit, and some things would be out-of-style, and some stuff just too worn out.
But it was all perfect.
Some pants that I thought would be too big fit well. This would have been disconcerting, except that the pants I thought would be too small also fit great.
And the dated wide-leg corduroys looked funky and cute.
I found elastic waist pants that would make good jammies now.
And ski pants that were so warm and comfy, they’d be perfect for the next time I got the flu.
And then the biggest miracle of all:
Two years ago I bought an amazing pair of gray jeans. I live in a touristy town in Connecticut, and I bought them in the shop where tourists buy stuff, not locals. Which means they were wildly expensive. (Because it is the duty of a “destination” locale to
soak the intruders serve the wealthy visitors.) These jeans were the best jeans I have ever purchased. Perfect.
Until about two months later, when I got this big grease stain on the thigh. (I should not eat in expensive clothes. I know better. I didn’t eat one bite at my wedding.) I felt horrible. But these pants were so pricey…how could I just throw them away? So I hung them in the back of my closet.
And Hallelujah! Praise the Lord!
I put on the pricey pants and there was no more grease stain. Anywhere. I searched the thigh where the stain had been. Then I searched the other thigh – just in case the stain had migrated over time. Stains can travel. I checked the seat. I turned on an extra light. These pants are perfect.
God healed the grease!
I had nothing to throw away.
My garbage bags are still empty.
And my closet is filled.
Just the way God wants it.