(I couldn’t find any kid sized belts Sunday morning. Sorry.)
When I was little my mom made my brother and I dress up for church. When the holiest of holy days came around (Christmas and Easter, I like to call it Chreaster) she pulled out the big guns. The fanciest of dresses, paten leather shoes and white hats were donned and it was a veritable Easter parade.
Somewhere around the late elementary years I started to question why I had to get dressed up for church. Her answer was along the lines of “out of respect” and “we need to look our best for the Lord.” I would come back with “out of respect for whom (although I probably said “who” instead of “whom”) and “God doesn’t care what we wear.” She usually came back at me with “We need to look as nice on the outside as we do on the inside.” Then I would pull my ace out of my sleeve…”what about people who can’t afford nice clothes? They can love the Lord and still wear jeans. Nice clothes don’t make you love the Lord any better.” She would finally trump all my arguments with “because I said to.” Can’t argue with that.
Upon reflection I think that my little act of defiance was a combination of my personality and the fact that I had a brother much older than me. He too pushed against authority and found ways to drive my parents crazy with the way he dressed. I’m sure I was doing what most little sisters do…try and be like him.
Now that I’m an adult and can wear whatever the heck I want to wear to church what do I wear? My Sunday best. However, the reason I wear my fancy shoes and cute dresses is not because I want to look nice for the Lord. The real reason is vanity. I’ll admit it and I challenge any church-going, high-heal-fancy-dress wearing woman out there to try and disagree with me. It’s all about impressing the other women. I have a lot of beautiful clothes and shoes in my closet and there isn’t a lot of opportunity to wear them. Pushing a stroller to the elementary school in stilettos is ridiculous. Shopping for bread and milk at 10 a.m. on a Monday morning while stuffing fruit snacks into the toddler’s mouth while wearing Ralph Lauren couture is out of the question. So where else am I supposed to wear my grandmother’s vintage dress? Church!
Now it’s my turn to dress up my kids. Typically getting my boys in a collared shirt is enough to meet my Sunday clothes requirements. Little boy coat and tie is not a hill I’m willing to die on. However, the Easter fashion parade was upon us and I can’t resist a toddler in a sweater vest. I even got Addison in a tie. A tie! I think it helped that it was a Star Wars tie but it was a tie non the less. And I think he actually liked the way he looked. It may not seem like much but it was a huge achievement in my book.
You can wear your flip flops and jeans and I’ll wear my heals and pearls. Let’s promise not to judge each other. I know someone who could give a flip about what anyone is wearing on Sunday. I’ll give you one guess.