I'm Molting

"He saved us, not because of righteous things we had done, but because of his mercy. He saved us through the washing of rebirth and renewal by the Holy Spirit."

Do you know how I know He is the Lord of Lord and King of Kings? Just reading those words under my breath, I am convicted with thanksgiving and praise, and I cry with gladness for my assurance in Him forever.

Have you ever seen a snake shed it's skin?

Like a worn out crusty sock removed from a sweaty foot...

Or a Cicada leave its entire exoskeleton clinging to a warped wooden dock?

It is one of the most fascinating necessities as it enables the growth process. And it happens quite often..

Shuddering to envision the volume of hair and skin humans shed in a year, I started thinking about sloughing off the old to make room for the new....as our favorite hip hop white boy motivated me with his diddy.

I'm sorry mama, I never meant to hurt you, I never meant to make you cry, but tonight i'm

cleanin' out my closet...

I can't begin to imagine where the clothing purchases I made in the last decade ended up; but between living on three continents and one island over the last twelve years, somehow in my pilgrimage to the fashionista capital of the world, everything I owned when I was 20 and 20 lbs heavier (team mom days) showed up in my limited three feet wide closet.

From the sweat stained white t-'s I was waiting to bleach, to I loved this top in the 80's, skirts missing buttons, and of course the how the hell did I use to dress like an Ann Taylor tight assed Junior Leaguer comments?

I've been dressing the age, my forehead appears to be, for way too long.

So yesterday with the help of my style savvy sweetheart, we began the mildly uncomfortable, way overdue expurgation. Reading somewhere that oxygen and water are important for successful molting, we settled for chocolate and wine and cleansed deeply.

And in the rehabilitation of my old and scaly worn from everyday wear and tear wardrobe, I discovered it wasn't necessarily that I enjoyed emulating suburban school marms or a sorority house sexpot circa 1985, nor that I have no creative concept of fashion (although that could be argued), it was that I was holding on to the friends I've made (my Chuck Taylors since I was 16) and the memories of just how far I've come....

Isn't it about time for a rousing revival??