By Lois Hewitt

As one gets more mature, one desires more comfort.  Basically, old age is making me uncomfortable. Pants don’t fit anymore. Shoes hurt my feet. Let’s not even talk about bras!

I just want some comfort. So I looked and looked and decided on a cute little house dress. Maroon with white hearts. So cute.

It arrives, I wash it and put it on.  I didnt realize it wasn’t cotton.  So it’s some weird manmade material that just irritated me to no end.

It went in the donation bag straight away.  I don’t have the patience for that mess.

I thought why not get one of those long cotton housedresses that grandma’s used to wear.  How could anything be more comfortable?  I ordered one right away.

It finally arrived. It’s a light baby blue cotton number with white piping around the bodice. Very plain but I like simple. So I throw it in washer and wait anxiously for it to dry.

As soon as possible I grabbed it out of the dryer and put it on.  I stood in front of the mirror and looked at myself.

Generally, looks are not my first concern. I haven’t worn make up in decades. I haven’t combed my hair (except with my fingers) in years and I wear the same work outfit until it falls apart.  Looks don’t matter until….

I put on that house dress. I openly admit to being frumpy but this went to a whole new level.  I gasped as I looked in the mirror. I looked like a baby blue beach ball.  I was almost invisible in this house dress.

Who cares?  Right? My husband is the ONLY one to see me and he is used to me.  It wasn’t about what anyone else thought. It was just me and it looked like I had just given up.

Isn’t that the craziest thing?  It’s just a piece of clothing meant to be slept in.  I do not wear my work outfit around in the apartment. I have my work outfit and my sleep outfit so I can end up wearing my sleep outfit a bit longer than just for sleep.

I hated myself and my body in this house dress.  I thought it would be comfort but it just made me sad.

We do that a lot in life.  I have, personally, looked to alcohol, food and shopping to bring comfort from the pain and disappointment.  All things I rationalized as ways to feel better. None of which actually worked.

I hear so many people say that Jesus is oppressive and how Christians live under tyranny from a legalistic God who demands accountability.

To that I say you are wrong.  In my life, which is all I know, it is those other things that are oppressive. The addictions we think that free us actually bind us worse than prison chains. There is no comfort in addiction.

My relationship with Jesus does make me accountable for my words and actions and that brings me comfort in a way living just for myself never could.

His love then covers me better than a silk kimono or a cotton house dress. I feel His presence in my life and His way has, as I always say, changed me.  And I feel good “wearing” His love for me.

As I struggle to find something to wear around the apartment, I gladly wear the cloak of Jesus in my life. Oh what a friend we have in Him.