I loved playing dress up as a little girl and I loved making myself long, long hair by wrapping bath towels snugly around my head.

Mom kept my hair fairly short in those days, though I do remember the double braids she used to put in my hair. She'd part it down the middle and put in two small braids from the crown and then incorporate those braids into the two main braids on either side of my head. Oh, those braids were tight, often too tight, and all I wanted was for my hair to be flowing free, cascading down my back. (When I finally grew my hair out as long as I could stand it several years ago, I understood why Mom was so insistent on keeping it short while I was a little girl.)

Playing dress-up presented an entirely different set of challenges. Mom either did factory work or waited tables, and she and Dad weren't much for the night life, so I didn't have long gowns to "borrow" or pretty shoes to clatter around in. We lived a thousand miles from both sets of grandparents, so I didn't have access to my grandmothers' closets either. And since I always wanted to be a princess, only flowing gowns would do.

So I used bed sheets.

Sometimes I would drape the bed sheet around my shoulders and let it trail behind me in imagined shimmering glory. Other times, I wrapped it first around my head, giving myself those Lady Godiva locks and a beautiful ball gown all-in-one. I watched Deborah Kerr dance in "The King and I" with true envy blossoming in my heart for the sweeping gowns she wore and I easily transported myself to Tara, where I became Scarlett, floating down the stairs, the object of everyone's admiration. It was pure imagination. We were simple folk. All of our bed sheets were plain Jane white.

I like white. Oh, not for everyday. I am simply too messy. I cannot count the number of white blouses, skirts or slacks that I have utterly ruined in one brief moment of carelessness. I don't even buy white anymore.

But I love that color. Look outside. See how beautifully white covers the scars of life? All of the harsh, jarring edges are softer today, thanks to the blanket of white that fell yesterday. Oh, it won't last long. Soon enough the melting will begin and the scars will re-emerge and some new ones may in fact appear. But for this moment, the world is pure, again.

I still like floor length gowns, but we're still simple folk. And it has not been all that long since I indulged my princess fantasy, even though that shimmering, gem-encrusted gown was in actuality, still nothing but plain Jane white.

I don't suppose for a moment that I've grown out of my penchant for daydreams, or that I've suddenly decided that I don't want to be a princess anymore. However, I doubt that I'll be stripping the bed sheets off anytime soon to indulge that fantasy. I am holding onto another promise these days. Not a fantasy promise, not a pie-in-the-sky dream, but the very real promise that one day I will wear a long, flowing, white gown, and it will remain pristine white, for I'll no longer indulge in careless acts that soil it.

"After this I looked and there before me was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people and language, standing before the throne and in front of the Lamb. They were wearing white robes and were holding palm branches in their hands. And they cried out in a loud voice: 'Salvation belongs to our God, who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb'" Revelation 7:9, 10 (NIV)

Things you won't see in heaven:

Spray 'n Wash