This weekend while in my hometown, I made a trip into this amazing dress shop to do some looking for our company’s holiday party next month (eek! Next month?!). I tried on several fabulous dresses but left with nothing in hand. In typical Me-fashion, I couldn’t pull the trigger. I found two I loved, but feared that they may be too formal. Or too casual. Not being in the office, I don’t hear the chatter around the coffee pot about what the fashions are this year.
My fear is that I’ll be the girl in the 1999 prom dress that everyone makes fun of. Overdressing is my worst nightmare.
On a smaller scale, this happens to me every time I dress. To put it in Pinterest form:
But you know what happens when I dress it down out of fear?
The day becomes insignificant.
On my birthday, my lovely sister called me up to sing a tune and asked what the big plans were. My loving husband had arranged a babysitter so we could go to the Italian ristorante in town. Her response?
“Sis, break out the heels!”
So I did.
Did I share space with people in blue jeans and OSU pullovers? Yes.
But was it their birthday? Probably not. AND, more importantly, did they enjoy their dinner as much as I did?
I cannot imagine they did. Because they didn’t come expecting anything grand. If they truly felt that something spectacular might happen, they’d have put on a bit of mascara and tossed a button-down shirt in the back seat. But they didn’t. I’ll go as far to say that evening, for them, was another meal.
But I had a wonderful celebration of birthday goodness with the man who loves me.
I wonder what life could be like if I dressed expectantly – and not just my jeans, but in my heart. If I came to the day thinking, “what amazingness is yet to unfold?”
Perhaps my churchgoing experience would be a bit different as well. If I came expecting to be inspired, connected. I came in anticipation of meeting God. Would I dress the part? Would I tune in better? I imagine I’d probably be on alert. Every inner nudge and thought I’d tuck away thinking, “this is what God has for me today!”
But why limit it to the days and times I step into a special building? What about each morning when I sit with a cup of coffee and my Message?
Or every morning that my children arise, eager to greet the day (and their toys). I can look expectantly to be blessed by the new words and experiences they’ll uncover.
So, I need to buy a dress. I could worry that ruffles and lace and taffeta and glitter will be “too much.”
Or I could have a more spectacular evening than anyone else, simply because I expect to.