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Character

Character, Clothing, Courage, Fashion, Gifts, Grace, Laughter, Lessons

Clothed in Congeniality

I’ve been shopping all of my life and I have nothing to wear…

Growing up in a middle-class family with two little sisters didn’t allow for many frivolous shopping sprees.  We didn’t need for anything, but we could always selfishly find a want for more clothes. I always looked forward to new outfits for our church conventions in the summer and a few at Christmas time.

The Christmas that I was in 7th grade, my precious grandmother made all of her granddaughters a sweatshirt. These weren’t just regular threads. Allow me to walk you through this fashion statement, so you can fully understand the beauty of it.  My sweatshirt was deep purple, on the front there was a vine made from a thin, green ribbon, with a line sewn down the middle to create ruffled edges.  On the vine were different colors of pink flowers, made from ribbon as well. These were special flowers as they were VELCROED on.  Yes ma’am, no foolery here.  I had the option of pulling a blush-pink flower off the vine on my shoulder, and trading places with the bashful-pink flower on my stomach, or the hot-pink flower on the other shoulder.  The front was beautifully covered with floral goodness.  I could not wait for Christmas break to be over, so I could wear it to school.

Seventh grade is so awkward.  I don’t have to explain this to you, as it is a fact of life. My middle school years were a tad more cumbersome.  Due to our religious beliefs, I wore skirts every day for modesty. Middle school is not the place you want to be different, but it grew my character and created a funny bone.  The first day back to school, I woke up early and couldn’t wait to get dressed.  You know that feeling of assurance – your day will be good because your outfit is rocking.  I clothed myself in a long, blue jean skirt, penny loafers, and my new 3-D floral sweatshirt. Boom.  Watch out world.

Throughout the day I discovered my flowers were a tad difficult to stay on the Velcro vine, so I adjusted how I carried my books – normally tucked to my chest, now held at my side with one arm.  Whatever, change is good.  After lunch, I was walking down the hall and heard, “Hey!  Hey girl in purple!  Hey…Girl that wears skirts!  Skirt girl!”  I finally realized it was me they were yelling at, and turned around to see the most popular 8th grade boy, who every girl had a crush on.  Hoping he had a glass slipper for me to try on, I answered, “Yes?”

“One of your flowers is in Hallway A.”, he said, then turned on his heel and walked into the lunch room.  I looked down and sure enough, one of my floral buds had fallen off, leaving a white square of Velcro showing.  I never wore the sweatshirt to school again.  I decided in that moment to aim for Miss Congeniality and focus on having a good personality.  I couldn’t control my looks and clothing.  My personality and ability to let things roll off, would serve me better. While you can’t control your outer life, we can always control our inner self.

Cut to adulthood – I still believe and operate on those principles, and I also love clothes and fashion.  Like, I could marry them.

Hubs and I were getting dressed to go out the other night and he joked, “Hey, let’s pick each other’s clothes out.”  Then we both roared with laughter at the thought of it.  He laughed because he made a funny.  I laughed to cover my horror at the mental vision of walking out of my closet, clothed in threads chosen by my groom. Flashbacks of middle school made me shutter.  Here is where I emphasize that it is healthy for love to have boundaries. Clear lines.

It’s no secret that I love to travel, yet hate to pack.  Partly because I need to bring it all.  Or at least a couple of choices for each day, as I don’t know what mood I’ll be in upon awaking. Somedays I feel like being Sporty Spice.  Others, I can’t wait to be all fancy and stoic like Posh.  Most times I would welcome imitating Baby Spice by staying in my pajamas, aka “yoga pants” all day.  Bottom line, I don’t know what I really, really want, until waking up and checking the pulse of my day.

You can imagine how sad I would feel if I brought the outfit for Sporty Spice, and Ginger Spice showed up that day for dressing.  Awkward.  I’m making it sound like I have a plethora of outfits to choose from when in actuality, my style walks a pretty basic line.  My friend Jessica refers to it as “classic”, when I’m almost positive she means boring.  But once she compared my style to Jennifer Aniston, so I forgive her.

At one time, I clearly had too much time on my hands and stitched a favorite quote for my closet. “I like my money where I can see it, hanging in my closet.”  Perhaps it was a warning label, framed for my husband. “This girl does and will buy clothes, think of it as an investment, with a return of happiness.”   Here are a few things I like to have in my closet to make me feel warm and safe:

  • White/neutral shirts. I don’t care if it’s a t-shirt or a blouse. I am like Mel Gibson in Conspiracy Theory.  He felt compelled to buy the book ‘Catcher in the Rye’, over and over.  I have the same pull to white tops.  I breathe easier with an assortment.  This also applies to blue jean shirts, one simply cannot have too many.
  • A good pair of comfy jeans. I mainly wear Seven for all Mankind, because they fit me well.  Also, to avoid the mental agony of going to try on another brand that may or may not love my shape.  Dance with the one that brought you.  Side note – 7 for all Mankind’s website always has a 40% off sale at the end of the season.  Be patient friend.  This ensures you won’t have guilt for buying two pairs.  If you are local, run to Mainstream Boutique and grab you a pair of Mac and Me jeans.  They are cute, trendy jeans with a secret, inside waist band of ELASTIC.  No one wants to admit they are throwing in the towel and going straight stretchy pants, but if we can secretly do it? Yes please.
  • Platform wedges. Everyone in our house is now taller than me.  They love reminding me of this, and I play the game only because it makes them happy.  I’ve never wanted to be any other height than I am.  Truthfully, I’ve never paid attention to height until I had teenage boys.  I wear wedges because I like the look of them on my particular legs.  Never to be taller.  Own your inches ladies, no matter how many you have in each direction.  The elderly ladies in the gym locker room remind me every time I’m getting dressed, “You won’t be able to wear those for much longer!”  So, rock ’em while you can Sister-Lou.
  • Layering pieces. Which means light-weight sweaters or jackets in Texas. Even when it is hotter than heck outside, I freeze in the office.  Layers speak love to me, it’s like hugging your body.
  • Fun accessories. This is where I will throw out the class and get crazy.  Belts, jewelry, etc.  The funkier, the better.  It balances the boredom of a white shirt or all the neutrals that I wear.
  • “Movement clothes”, a phrase coined by my friend Casey. This basically means pajamas, but without the commitment of calling it that, just in case someone thinks you mean yoga or workout clothing.  As soon as my feet enter the door of our home, I’m headed to my closet to change into movement clothes.  I love comfort.  I could never have a reality TV show, simply for the fact that I would never be dressed appropriately for the camera.  They would have to ask me to get dressed daily, and I would reply with a deadpan stare and point to my surroundings. In our home, we wear movement clothes.

No matter what threads cover you, your outfit will go a lot further if you are clothed in congeniality. Even if it is attached to you with velcro, wear it proudly.  Especially if it was stitched by your grandmother.

Character, Courage, Empathy, Family, Friendship, Grace, Hope, Lessons, Love, Uncategorized

Growing Bigger Souled

Life is made up of little moments, pieced together to create our whole journey.  Slots of time filled with joy, sadness, and all the emotions in between.  The hope is at the completion of our pilgrimage, there will be a balance of the light and dark, with more gladness than sorrow.

Years ago, we took a family trip to Cabo San Lucas with the boys, they were around seven and ten years old.  We indulged in all the ridiculously expensive, touristy experiences; massages, swimming with the dolphins, parasailing, shopping, deep sea fishing, beach days, etc.  One night we treated ourselves to a big family dinner at a fun restaurant – right on the beach in Cabo, where the tables are literally set up on the sand.  As we were laughing breezily and stuffing our faces, a few locals on the beach quietly attempted to get our attention and sell us their goods.

One young boy and his sister looked to be about the same age as our boys.  He came up holding a bundle of colorful bracelets, offering to personalize them with names woven into them.  Looking at him, I wondered how it was that my boys ended up as the ones on vacation and he was a local, peddling homemade jewelry.  It made me sad, sometimes I just don’t understand this life.  I performed the cheesy tourist role – acting as if I couldn’t decide which beauty to choose, so I mentally counted the kiddos in our neighborhood and told him that was how many bracelets I needed.  I took him up on his offer to weave Mason and McCray’s names into their bracelets.  While he and his older sister sat in the sand to craft our jewelry, McCray couldn’t keep from watching them.  At one point, he looked up at me with eyes full of sencerity and said, “Mom, even if his jewelry wasn’t as beautiful as it is, would you still buy it?”

I replied yes.  He nodded, looked back at the boy and quietly said, “I would to.”

I will never forget the look on his face that night.  His little mind recognizing that they weren’t that different and his little heart not understanding the unfairness of the situation.  They were the same age, yet a country apart in their life experiences.  McCray has always been my sensitive thinker who seems to feel things deeper than most.  The boy selling jewelry could have been as happy as a clam with his life, but that encounter was used for a gentle teaching moment in my son’s journey. That evening, with our feet in the sand and our bellies full, he learned what compassion and empathy feel like.

When empathy is present, apathy cannot exist.”  Jessica Honegger

We are not all that different.  Don’t we all have the same core needs?  What if we could just lean in to those we don’t understand, our neighbors who are experiencing life different from us?  What if we could stop filling our lives with the perfect moments, situations, etc – and leave some margin to lean in and meet some of the needs that are right in front of us?  Empathy can fill in a lot of gaps.  Sister Joan Chittister tells us that “We are either growing or collapsing at every moment.  We are becoming bigger souled or smaller souled at every moment.”  Every single minute – not one wasted.  She believes that the purpose of a human experience is to grow into God.  To go beyond religion and become a prayer, by becoming a filter that sees our Creator in everything.

B-e-a-utiful.  Oh, to live a kind of life where we see the Divine in everything. To grow bigger souled in each moment.  We will slip occasionally, as we are human.  Yet, we have an opportunity in every moment to grow, to lean in, to work at understanding and loving those who we deem different than us.  We are not as different as it sometimes feels. Jesus was the greatest teacher of this, as he was always expanding his table to accommodate more hearts.  We all have the same underground river running beneath our feet, the water of grace.  Reach down and splash some on your neighbor.

A sweet memory in Cabo with my M&M boys

 

 

 

Character, OCD, perfection

Character over Perfection

Character over perfection.  This has been my summer mantra.   For good reason.

I would like to return my form of OCD in exchange for a more useful prescription of it.

Some of my favorite memories were spent laid out on a blanket in my grandparents living room floor.  Them, relaxing in their recliners.  Nannymom, my great-grandmother, curled up on her corner of the couch.  My reserved spot was sprawled out in front of the TV, with my favorite stuffed animals.  The Cabbage Patch dolls were big fans of Dallas and Dynasty like the rest of us.  I completely missed who shot JR, due to obsessively smoothing out the wrinkles in my blanket.  My jester grandfather delighted in my irritation by stepping on my blanket, creating a wrinkle, just as I had gotten it perfect.  The next 7 minutes were spent straightening it back out, pretending my hand was an iron, over and over, until it was creaseless again.

In recent years, I mentioned this while sharing a story with a therapist friend.  Her reply was, “Really? We should process that sometime.”  Huh?  Did you hear my story?  What could there possibly be to process in this scenario?  Who wants to sit on a wrinkled-up blanket?  Clearly this behavior of control and perfection is completely normal.

My husband and I have a joke that I am not high maintenance on anyone but myself.  And by joke, I mean, he is completely serious.  This means I don’t expect others to prepare things how I like it, I’ll do it.  Besides, it would take too long for me to tell you how to do it correctly. This is my confession.

Wouldn’t it be so neat if everyone could sit on their own blanket, and I could just sit on mine.  If you choose to have wrinkles on your magic blanket, then you are bat-flip crazy.  Nevertheless, you do you friend…on your blanket. That would be my perfect scenario, but that isn’t life.   Life is messy, and there are more spots of quicksand than there are smooth, soft blankets.

I was reminded of my quirky ways last week while packing for a four-day meditation retreat in Colorado.  In the email, I was told to pack comfy clothes; yoga pants, shorts, t-shirts, and a sweatshirt.  We were aiming for comfort, headed to the mountains to be one with nature.  It took me no less than 2 hours to pack one small suitcase, a backpack, and a travel purse.

At one point in the packing frenzy, I walked through the living room looking for sympathy, and mentioned I was so tired of packing.  My husband’s reply was, “You should be.”  He is known to be sweetly subtle.  Hubs just doesn’t understand that it takes a WHILE to pick out all my favorite tees, and pair each one with a pullover, jeans AND shorts…just in case Mother Nature couldn’t make up her mind that day.  I needed my sunless tanning system, as you can agree it would be a tragedy to lose my tan while tucked away in the aspen trees.  I shouldn’t have to explain the need for my portable steamer, you know how I feel about wrinkles.

As my suitcase ran out of space, I sent my cousin a quick text to see if she was bringing a blow dryer.  She wasn’t, but said she would pack hers for me.  Awesome.  Wait, what if her blow dryer didn’t have an ion setting?  I should probably just bring my own.  Along with my curling iron.  And straightener.  My hair has to be so confused by now.  Naturally curly hair, but blowed dried straight, flat ironed, then loosely re-curled.  I’m surprised each hair on my head hasn’t jumped ship by now.  Dear hair, thank you for being a friend.

This picky, quirky behavior is not the impression that I like to give off.  I’d rather come off as a laid-back, chill gal.   For the most part I am…regarding you.  I have no expectations projected on you.  But, when it comes to myself, I’m total maintenance.  I work really hard to hide my desire to have everything just so, by doing most of my work under the radar.  Still, the people who have actually traveled WITH me should be added to your prayer list.

I have several friends, who were blessed with a handy form of OCD.  Some leave their houses spotless every morning; not a dish in the sink, every bed in the house is beautifully made, everything glistens like a real-life Disney movie.

As wacky and OCD as I am, I didn’t get this useful portion of it.  My strand looks like;

–  How can I leave for work when my photo album closet is in shambles?

–  How will my children know I love them if I don’t finish their summer chatbooks to document their camps?

–  I simply cannot start on my to-do list today with my jewelry cabinet in the situation it’s in….the gold is touching the silver and it just gives me the creeps.

–  Why is that gray shirt hanging with the white shirts in my color-coded closet??  Clearly we have had a break-in, I’d better go check the locks.  Again.  For the 32nd time.

–  I can’t write this morning with my floors looking like I just shaved our dogs on their way out the back door.

Yet, I can leave my bed looking like a tornado hit it, and I’m okay with this.  My friend, Christine, told me that an unmade bed is actually healthy, it gives your sheets a chance to breath.  I’m gonna go with this theory.

Surely, I have some redeeming qualities as well, but it’s not my job in this space to try to dig those up.   Character over perfection.   Surely, quirky counts for character right?

What if we could let go of the perfection and embrace the character?  Perfection controls while character grows.

*On a side note – while in the mountains, I didn’t once dig out my sunless tanning system.  There is something spiritual about letting go and embracing your authentic, normal colored self.  Big lessons.  This guy didn’t mind at all…

As expected, my steamer was put to good use.  Sleep well friend, not a wrinkle in sight.