I bought a new swimsuit early this summer after pitching my old threadbaren one. Swimsuit shopping is always quite an event for me, but this time it was worse than ever. I tried finding something that would accommodate my post-partum figure, while hoping my body would soon change back to its pre-pregnant state. Apparently it did.

While on vacation a few months later, I was so excited to go in the ocean that I forgot to take out my contacts. My eye doctor told me they would be ruined with even a speck of water, so I decided to just jump around in the waves while not going in too far. However, Mr. Deceptive wave rolled in–you know the one, it looks calm, but really isn’t. Water covered me from head to toe. I squeezed my eyes shut as tight as possible, trying to save those precious little pieces of silicone. The wave still threatened to pull me under, so I tried holding my ground. It wasn’t until a good minute later that I felt the fabric that previously covered my derriere sloshing against my legs.

“Aghhhhhh!” I wanted to yell as loud as I could, but my brain willed my mouth from making even more of a scene. Fortunately my eyes were still shut so I couldn?t see everyone staring at my half-naked body as I quickly yanked up that most important piece of clothing.

My husband, Allen, guided me back to our towels as I continued my quest to save my contacts. By the time we got to our spot, many, many people were staring and our friends, who happen to be nurses, were ready to perform some type of procedure on me. I dried my eyes and plopped down, contacts intact and ego damaged.

After getting more than enough sun to prove I’d been to the beach, I stood up to brush off the sand. It wasn’t until I looked down that I noticed it. A tampon string was hanging outside my too-large tankini bottoms. I pulled on my shorts as fast as possible, bee lined for the car and left my friends perplexed as to why I kept making comments about being grateful I no longer live in California.

Have you been there? Unfortunately, I do this all the time. There are things I try to hide inside, only to realize the tampon string is hanging out. I hate admitting I’m prone to jealousy. Envy. Anger. Bitterness. I pull on my swimsuit to come before a pure God, but my conscience exposes me and the string hangs out. Surely I can’t come to God in such an unkempt form. I need to get my act together first. No tampon strings allowed here. After all, he is God Almighty.

But wait, He is also my Maker. My Father.

I always take advantage of the gloves my church nursery provides whenever I change someone else?s baby. But when it comes to my little guy, they aren’t necessary. He’s my son. My precious baby. I’ll always love him, even when he has a poopy diaper. And when I change him, he smiles at me. No shame. Maybe I can learn from him. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll go before my Father with a smile, even when my pants are pulled down or the cord is hanging out.

Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.   Romans 8:1