Between some scary car repair costs lately and my work computer being stolen from my house yesterday, I've been given an unwelcome reminder that financial security is a terrible thing to put my hope in. We came into this world naked and that's how we'll leave it, so why do we fuss so much with our wardrobe? It has its purpose and its joys but all our finery will end up at an estate sale one day and us in a pile of bones. Why would we weigh ourselves down with feathers and frills when we could be skinny-dipping in a moonlit pond? King David was onto something with his worshipful streaking. The one thing death can't take from me is the secret wealth of memorizing the microexpressions of my Father's face. So I'll spend my days at his feet in endless fascination, feeling like a million bucks.