Wondering What to Wear to Church.

When Violet was 4 years old,

I bought her a pair of tap shoes at a  yard sale.

Although she didn't take tap lessons,

she was always dancing around the house,

so I thought she'd enjoy them.

As childhood play can do,

the sashes for them got misplaced.

One Saturday evening,

it was discovered that her church shoes no longer fit her,

so I did the next best thing:

I found some big bright ribbon to match her dress,

yellow and blue,

and laced them into her tap shoes.

 

After her children's church class that day,

I found a very agitated daughter waiting for me.

She pointed down to her billowing bowed shoes and said,

"I am NEVER wearing these shoes again.

*John laughed at me when I came into class today,

pointed to my shoes and said,

'What in the world do you have on your feet?

Those are the funniest shoes I have ever seen,'

and then all the kids turned and looked at me feet.

And he laughed.

I wanted to hit him in his laughing mouth."

This seemed to me too humorous,

but knowing the sensitivity of my incredibly humbled child,

I squelched it as best I could and replied,

"Well, I think your shoes are beautiful and unique.

Who cares what John says.

He's just a little boy."

"Well, he's a boy that laughed at me in front of the whole class,

and I hate him."

Needless to say,

We continued the discussion on the way home.

John's name comes up occasionally

when we pick out a Sunday outfit,...

 and I jokingly ask her if she thinks John will approve.

I can't believe how she would care

what one boy thinks of her shoes,

especially one so far below a standard of fashion as her mother's.

Growing up I always thought my mother was the most beautiful woman on earth.

People often told her she looked like Elizabeth Taylor.

(Image from Pinterest)

But not only did she look beautiful,

she acted beautiful.
A more giving, compassionate person I've yet to meet.

My mother only seemed to have a hand-full of dresses

for church on Sunday back then,

but I felt she always looked the best.

I remember when she came into school one day when I was 7

and one of the boys asked me if she was my mother.

When I replied that she was,

he said,

"Wow, you're lucky.

My mom is fat and ugly: she never cares about what she looks like."

That struck me

and stuck with me.

Kids are funny because they are so honest with what they think.

Of course, we have to train them tact

and how sometimes honesty has to be softened,

or even shielded,

by love.

My mother-in-law is another woman I admire.

My husband gets his smile from her:

it lights up a room and her beauty is commanding.

I don't think I have ever seen her not look pretty;

To meet her,

you wouldn't guess that she is the type

to lance goat infections

or tend an orphaned litter of piglets

in her basement.

Instead you would thing she is the type that could

spend hours researching and writing a detailed book of her descendants

for her posterity,

or run a whole committee of women to hold a banquet.

But actually, she's done all of this.

She taught me how to can food,

to make jelly,

to butcher chickens, 

to lose miserably at Scrabble.

Even in a house dress with an apron on,

both my mothers retain beauty;

are wise women,

unafraid to have and express truth,

but always with kindness.

They are the most feminine, busy, proper ladies I know,

but would never make another feel uncomfortable

who is less in these areas.

I often tell Violet how amazing it is 

that she has 2 nearly perfect grandmothers.

 

 

"...Man looketh on the outward appearance,

but the LORD looketh on the heart."

I Samuel 16:7b

I have heard friends debating

what a person should wear to church,

often because of this verse.

 

But I have been debating with myself not just this question

but

what should my appearance be in my home.

It's easy to be comfortable.

And comfortable isn't wrong.

I recently read a blog about how to manage your closet,

and she said,

"Get rid of everything that doesn't look good on you."

Wait.

What?

Even if it's comfortable?

I can't tell you how many things I've thrown into the Good Will bag
(and trash bag!)

the last few weeks as I've tried to do just that.

It was incredibly hard to do because I am very fussy

about how clothes feel.

But if I have things that look better

why keep the super-sized fuzzy "tents"

(as my husband so fondly calls them).

Gone are the days of whale bone corsets,

of struggling to tie up tight to look like an hourglass,

the powdered 2 foot tall wigs,

the rustling hoop skirts.

Pinterest image: Dame di Cartone, 17th Century II by Christian Tagliavini

Fashion changes.

One thing doesn't change:

"Man looks on the outward appearance..."

And that part of the verse,

the part that reminds me that my daughters are looking at me,

suddenly makes it more important to myself.

My girls are critiquing why I dress the way I do:

that part drives me to my knees and makes me honestly question.

I have a far way to go.

But recognition is a start, right?

John has no idea of the discussion and impact he has caused

in our household.

Bless his heart,

Could be, one day,

he might be walking "little miss tap shoes" down the aisle...

just don't tell Violet I said so.

*John is not laughing-fellow's real name.

His name has been changed to protect the innocent.

Linking up to:
Homemaker-by-Choice
Works for me Wednesday