I bought some new clothes today. A mother of a toddler has many things to consider when doing this seemingly simple task. There are the obvious things like ease of care--no dry clean only pieces, unless these garments will never come within the projectile-vomiting radius of the child. Also expense--there is a new body in the family that must be outfitted, so the whole family shops at Target with an occasional trip to the outlet mall... but only when you're really livin' large.

Speaking of living large... there are the subtle considerations. I bought the bare minimum last year because I was still nursing and I didn't want to buy a bunch of expensive nursing things. I also had a dream, not a big dream, just a little dream, of shedding the last 10 baby pounds. But a mother of a toddler buys clothes that fit and are comfortable now, even if they're in a size that she shudders to buy, because when it comes down to some disciplined weight-loss program, that ship has sailed. Bon voyage. However! You don't spend a lot on your clothes because there's always this teeny-tiny hope that you might lose the rest of the weight, and you don't want to have blown mega-bucks on a cute, obsolete wardrobe.

Phase two of clothing purchases--Sunday morning attire--will come later. I need a couple of suits that I can pull out of my closet every Sunday without thinking about it. I'm wearing a robe for 2 of the 3 hours anyway. My head of staff wears a suit with clerical collar each Sunday, which I refuse to do. It's just not me. There are (at least) two schools of thought about clergy attire. One acknowledges that clergy are set apart from "normal" folks (for better or for worse) and that in places like hospitals and nursing homes, a collar grants a certain level of access. People also know what you're up to and have the option of behaving themselves... although it's always fun when people splutter out apologies for cursing in front of you once they find out what you do. Don't bother; I'm not the language police, and while we're on this topic, I don't have any pull with The (Wo)Man Upstairs.

The other school of thought maintains that pastors are no different than any other person, they just have this very specific job that they do. That's me. I'm more of a guerrilla pastor. I'd rather go incognito. I will say this though: I have a friend who is a pastor in the MCC denomination, which primarily consists of gay and lesbian folks who have been hurt by the mainline church. Her uniform (particularly when she's going to be around young people) consists of spiky hair, plaid flannel shirts, combat boots, and clergy collar. I think about young people, struggling with their sexual identity and internalizing those horrible "God hates fags" messages from religious extremists, and I think that maybe just the glimpse of this lesbian Woman Who Kicks Butt for Jesus gives them a sliver of hope in a God who loves and works through all people.

All these new clothes necessitated cleaning out my closet. This is a cathartic experience, and I was long overdue. Little kids are right--monsters do lurk in closets. They nestle in those tight crevices between the too-small skirts, the stretched out blouses, the dresses that you can't decide whether they're in style or not anymore. The demons of days past are just packed in there, way too full, wheezing in the warm, stifling closet air. The black maternity sweater that you wore at your father's makeshift funeral, hundreds of miles away from the real one. The nursing blouse you wore when your church voted to call you as their pastor, the one that you liked a lot but you hoped didn't seem too obviously a nursing outfit, because was it going to freak people out to have a pastor who lactates? The skirt you bought for your new job that seemed like a good idea but that made you look horrible, but you really didn't care because who had the time and the energy to care about one's appearance when your whole world was so different and hectic and depressed?

I really, really needed some new clothes. I like these new ones a lot.