Like most of us, I have a closet off my bedroom. For me, it’s a place for my not-so-trendy clothes and a makeshift writing desk. While I technically share this space with my husband Kirk, you know the truth: the closet is mine.
But my closet also represents a metaphorical place where I cry, pray, occasionally throw things, get mentally dressed and undressed, hide stuff I have no idea what to do with, and sing and dance like nobody’s watching. My closet is where I attempt to quiet the chaos of life and its emotions, finding rest. It is a place where my story is written.
You’re invited to join me here, because I’m guessing you—like me—long for the facades and masks to melt away.
Like me, you need courage to step into a world where you can be vulnerable, evaluating the weak and messy that invades your own closet. You need a place to be reminded of who you truly are, where you can quiet the mental chatter, more effectively dealing with the piles of stuff—the stuff that overwhelms.
Ladies, we need a safe place to release the plaguing guilt telling us we are not enough. We need a place where we can lean on one another, feeling support and love, not judgment. A community where we cheer for each other when we look fabulous, a community closet which reveals the inner truth and beauty we each possess . . . where we emerge fresh and ready to take on the burdens of life.
So, step into my closet where we can share our failures and triumphs. We’ll evaluate our emotional wardrobes, try some new styles, throw away the junk we should never have bought in the first place, laugh at ourselves, even cry. But most important, we will be real about life and faith.
Let’s try on a fashionable faith. One which is transparent, vibrant, life-changing. And we might find—as we journey together—that this closet, once a mess, becomes one of our favorite places to be.