Every Sunday as we walk up the stairs and into our church, were greeted by the familiar friendly faces of our parish. I always smile and get nostalgic as we sit behind the little old couple, Ed and Edna. She smells like face powder and perfumed hand lotion. Her hair is a white puffy cloud and she always has sparkly dangling earrings. Her nails are always painted. Her toes too. Ed is always in trousers and a shirt and sweater vest. His hair carefully combed. I can see the lines the comb has made in his thin graying hair.
They make me smile. They remind me of my own Grandma, and the early mornings I would go to Mass with her at St. Bernadette in Seattle. I would be allowed to wear her lipstick and carry one of her purses. She always switched her purse to go with what she was wearing. She’d always wear her perfume. Oscar dela Renta. I love that fragrance! I remember watching her put on pantyhose and decide what shoes she would wear. I would follow her from the bathroom with the big mirror, into the green room where she kept her extra clothes, back to her bedroom where her vanity sits by the bed. She would open the wide drawer on top and many little opened boxes full of jewelry would be lined up. She would ask me what I though. Even allowing me to wear some of the items. She’d tuck a clean Kleenex and a few mints into a pocket in her purse.
Maybe it’s because of my Grandma. Maybe it’s because of being raised by my Mom who still firmly believes a woman shouldn’t leave the house without lipstick and blush on. I’m not sure, but I’ll credit them both to the fact that I will never attend church without putting on my Sunday best.
I won’t lie, I do enjoy the compliments. That’s the vanity in me. But I don’t do it for you. I do it for Him.
I firmly believe to be prepared in life, and although my dress and carefully applied make up won’t make my creator love me more. I believe it’s the effort that matters. I show up. I show up prepared in my heart and show up ready to show my love and adoration.
Being in yoga pants, tshirt and flip flops are for home. Cleavage has never been my thing. Our youngest daughter is as, maybe even more, conservative than I. I don’t believe your dress marks your faithfulness. But I do believe it shows a persons laziness. One hour a week for Him deserves my best.
An old boss of mine used to always say (excuse her French) “feel shitty, dress pretty” it’s true. The way I feel about my appearance is a reflection of how open or closed my heart is. I’m not a perfectly proportioned woman. I’m heavier than I should be for my height, my skin has sun marks and scars and my hair doesn’t always want to cooperate with me. Truth be told, the majority of my clothing comes from thrift stores, not the department store. But, I put in all my effort.
One thing I won’t stop doing – is showing up every Sunday wearing my love and adoration for my Lord. I encourage you to do the same.
#wiws (What I Wore Sunday) is a fun hashtag on Instagram that many women use to show their Sunday best. Come join us! Here are a few of mine.