My mom got me a smart black purse for my birthday in May. There was nothing unusual about this, since my mom usually keeps me supplied with sturdy and stylish handbags; in fact, if it were not for her, I’d probably be toting around my motherhood supplies in my 3-yr. old’s Dr. Suess’s backpack. This purse, however, was a little smaller than usual, so I really had to pack it in there.
My mom’s got style, but I started getting lots of comments on this purse. “Hey, nice purse!” “Where’d you get that bag?” “Wow! I love that pocketbook!” It was a little odd, but I really got concerned when one friend jokingly warned me that with if a pastor’s wife carries around a purse like that, people might start to talk.
OK. What’s up with the little black pocketbook? I had to know. I called my mom and asked her about it. She explained that it was a COACH. She asked me how much I thought it had cost. I guessed $25. She laughed. When she told me how much the purse really cost, I immediately started cleaning it out. No more sippy cups, pull-ups, or Bubble-Gum. I cleaned out the Sunday School papers, the dried up pens, and the melted lip glosses. I even put all the credit and debit cards back in my wallet. Now this purse only goes to church and out to dinner. I pulled out an old bag for trips to the grocery store and the playground.
Nothing about the purse had changed. But what I believed about it changed a lot.
