When I was little, before I left the house, my mom would caution me to wear decent underwear (“sensible drawz” she called them) . She said that I’d be sorry if something terrible happened and I had to be undressed (read: if a truck hit me and people saw stringy elastic in my underpants, she would probably die of shame).
I was thinking about that recently. Not the shame stuff—the underclothes.
We spend so much time on our appearance, on perfecting the outside things, the tiny details we think people see. There’s nothing wrong with that. But it’s good to remember that whatever we feed will grow. The things we ignore …won’t. So, I was wondering about how much time we spend nourishing our insides. Do we feed our spirits so they’ll mature? Are we developing the muscles we’ll need for those unexpected “terrible” situations that will undress us before the world and expose what we really believe?
Underneath all those pretty things, are we wearing “sensible drawz”?