I squinted through the glass, studying the columns of ruffles, the blue sash, and the hint of puffed sleeves. My friend and I talked about the dress for weeks. But, I’m a pastor’s kid, which means I suffer from a love-hate relationship with shopping.
If a shrink had me on her couch, she’d probably dip up memories of my mom dragging me to the back of every store, past the full-price clothes that glimmered and whispered my name. Even at the age of ten, I knew I had a better chance getting my gerbil to paint the Mona Lisa than of owning that dress.
Photo courtesy of Christian Holzinger via unsplash.com
Several weeks later, my friend showed me her new Christmas outfit. As the gold taffeta swooshed around her legs, envy crawled up mine. I tried to smother images of the hand-me-downs I’d be wearing on Christmas Eve.
But, just then, grace happened Continue Reading…
