The purple robe

My alarm buzzes at 4:45. That's way too early for me to be up. I am not a morning person. Groggily my feet hit the ground and I stumble to the bathroom.

I throw on my very ugly purple robe and stagger into the kitchen where I fumble in the cabinet for a cup. I sniff the coffee pot first, then pour my cup full to the brim. A few sips, and I can focus my eyes on the task at hand.

The purple robe is an interesting item in my wardrobe. Let me say that it is ugly and I hate it. I have owned it since the dawn of time, and it was ugly then. My mom bought it on clearance for me when I was a teenager. I hated it so much that I cried. But it is warm. That's the only nice thing I have to say about it. I have never gotten around to replacing it.

However, this morning as I sat reading my Bible and writing, I let my mind wander a bit. I remember our first apartment, waking up early on Saturday mornings to watch cartoons together, me in that ugly purple robe.

I remember walking the floor night after night with my colicky firstborn, in the ugly purple robe. I remember nighttime feedings, and early morning rockings with all my babies, in the ugly purple robe.

I remember breakfasts made for my husband and kids, mornings snuggling on the couch drinking coffee and spending time in God's Word with Shawn. All wearing that ugly purple robe.

And currently I am wearing it as I approach my very first writing attempt, and as I am studying and learning about who God is.

I have memories from each of our homes, from every stage in our lives, all tied to that ugly robe. The longer I remembered, the more beautiful the robe became. Maybe I am not so anxious to replace it after all.