When the mail came today, it looked like an ordinary bundle - some bills, some junk, pleas from the ballet and the opera to continue donating to them. The last thing I came upon, tucked toward the back of the stack, was a notice from the post office that I had a package waiting for me. How exciting! Not only do I love getting packages in the mail, but I love the excitement of wondering who it might be from. I rushed to the post office and waited with anticipation while they retrieved a nicely sized box from the back. It was only when I looked at the return address on the box that I remembered a student I had been counseling had asked for my address. Wondering what she may have sent me, I hurried home to open my parcel. In it, I found a wrapped package and a letter. Resisting the temptation to open the package first, I reached for the letter and found a two-page eloquent thank you for all the help I had given her. In the envelope, she also included a friendship bracelet she had made. I couldn't even bring myself to open the package at that moment, because I felt so overwhelmed. Here was someone who I simply helped in a time of need, which in my mind, means I'm just doing my job. Little did I know how much it helped or meant to her, for the parcel that rested on the counter in front of me was such a generous effort to say thank you that I couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. Ministry is funny that way. You can only do what God has asked you to do, what Jesus has modeled for you to do - love others and reach out to those in need - and pray that God will use you to bring the necessary consolation or help into that person's life. I opened the package. It was a hoodie (my favorite) with the name of the student's college beautifully stitched across the front. To say that I was touched would be a dire understatement. I didn't even feel comfortable trying it on. It was as if fully receiving this gift of thanks would somehow be saying that I took credit for helping her. There was no way that I, left to my own merits, could have such deep impact on a person. I called her to thank her and tell her she didn't have to do that. She said that indeed, she did, because she owed me a lot. We argued about it a few times back and forth before we both gratefully said good night. It was only then that I removed my own sweatshirt, with the name of my graduate school printed across the chest, a name I had earned with excessive hours in the library and too many all-nighters to count, and tried on this piece of clothing that I still felt didn't belong to me. I looked in the mirror. There I was, just plain old me, but in someone else's clothing. Clothing I did not earn or deserve, despite what someone else might think. A wolf in sheep's clothing, maybe; it's not that much of a stretch. I felt like a misrepresentation of the institution scrawled across my chest. I remembered feeling like this before, when I tried on the spare habit of a nun friend, and the clerical collar of a minister friend, at times when I was considering those paths in ministry. The sight that greeted me in the mirror tonight was the same that greeted me then: that I was "clothed in righteousness" like the Psalms say, but that righteousness only went as deep as the fabric. I felt unworthy to ever wear any sort of habit or collar, and I feel unworthy to wear this sweatshirt. Despite feeling a call to ministry my entire adult life, putting on the cloth that goes with it has been something I've only been comfortable with in my imagination. I haven't followed the path toward a habit or clerical collar. But I'm going to keep this sweatshirt, and I'm going to wear it, not as a symbol of my ministry but as a reminder of the ministry that God does through me. As it warms me with a divine embrace, I am happily reminded that our weakness is God's strength. Putting on the cloth, whether it's a hoodie or a habit, doesn't infuse you with any power of your own. It can only serve as a reminder of the ministry you are called to: the ministry of being God's light in the world, a ministry in which you are a conduit, a means to an end. I hope that this cloth will preserve in me the humility to always remember that.