There is a time and a place for the removal of underwear. As far as I am concerned this is not in public, or during the examination of one’s dental region.

Before I alarm you further, read on.

This morning I had a routine dentist appointment. Whilst there something very untoward occurred in the cleft of my bosom. Now, if you know me well, you will know this to be a sizeable cleft. As I was lowered into the chair by the kind man about to examine my teeth, both of the underwired sections of my bra took the liberty of shooting out in unison. It was an inexpliacable and painful double pincer action which stabbed me hard in the breast region, not once, but twice.

I was somewhat shocked and let out a small cry which I think surprised the dentist and my breasts. They, now suddenly let loose, did not know which way to turn. Fortunately, for the Dentist and for myself, I was wearing a poncho-esque-cape-like jumper which hid the worst of my escapee chest. I was glad from the top of my head to the tips of my tippy toes, that I did not need root canal work and that I could remove myself pronto.

On leaving, I grabbed the children and upheld myself, (as best I could with a heavy handbag and three boys in tow) and retreated fast (but not TOO fast) to Marks and Spencers’ car park where I tried, unsuccessfully and with much pinching of skin, to force the underwires back into the bra.

Thwarted by the amount of poncho and the amount of children witnessing the scene, not to mention the driving rain, the gawping of a carpark attendant and the weight of the handbag, I gave up and marched into M and S to buy bread rolls and discounted christmas cards. I was highly delighted to find some cards substantially reduced but could not enjoy my time in the queue due to the sudden and alarming appearance of the underwires at my chin. I stuffed them back down again and hastened to the car.

I tell you this story not merely to guide you through a day in the life of my ill-fated lingerie, but as a wonderful reminder. There are things and people (and in my case, wires) that hold us up. They may not be visible to others, but we are lost without them. God puts people in our lives to be those who support us and, dare I say it, separate us from others. Those who guard us and encourage us. When such people (or in my case, wires) make themselves scarce, things go awry. (PRAISE the good Lord for the current renaissance of the gypsy poncho.)

I am very blessed to have people in my life whose job it is to build me up. You and I are also meant to perform this function for others.

Last night before I went to sleep I counted those who have done this for me in recent years. I felt such a sense of God’s timing and wonderful provision over me. Perhaps before this year is out, you could do the same and spend some time thanking God for those who “lift and separate” (sorry, could’t resist) you.