But in the morning, Leah.

There is a sermon by Tim Keller that has created the phrase, "It's a Leah."

Poor Leah. She had weak eyes. (Who knows what that means). But her sister Rachel was beautiful of face and form. (And we all know what that means).


The only way that Laban could marry off his weak-eyed daugther was to trick Jacob into thinking that he was marrying Rachel. Imagine the horror inside the marriage tent the morning after the raucus wedding party.

Jacob had toiled 7 years for the love of his life, Rachel, and as he rolled over to kiss his new bride good-morning...OMG, Leah!, What are YOU doing here?!!!!

But isn't that what we always experience after attaining what we've been pining for for so long? We think we finally got our Rachel, but in the morning, it's a disappointment, a let-down, a Leah.

For six months of blood, sweat, and tears, I focused on the day I would be free and could shop to my heart's content. But after seven stores and five hours of feet-blistering perusal, do you know what I bought? Socks. Yeah, socks. And some refill makeup.

I realized that I have arrived at a new stage in my shopping life. I'm in shopping limbo, if you will. I'm too old to buy the cheapy stuff that used to thrill me as a college student. But I'm too poor to afford the chichi stuff that has become my baseline standard now.

Case-in-point: I saw a gorgeous DKNY wool coat, $250. And then there was a heavily discounted pair of Coach boots, $300. Trying to shop when you're a poor student: Pointless. Even if you have a Mastercard.

So, here I am, the morning after, not one article of clothing richer, getting ready to start the fresh hell of a new semester, and feeling the deeper implication of waking up with "Leah".

I should learn to be happy now. There is no Rachel. Because in the morning, until the good Lord calls me home, it will always be Leah.