A couple years ago I found an orange dress at a thrift shop. It was a different style from my usual outfits, but after I tried it on I knew I had to get it. Two days later when I put it on for the day and examined the result in the mirror I was highly pleased with myself. It was perfect. It fit like it was made for me. The colour was exactly right. I even had a headband that matched.
As I tripped down the stairs feeling like a super model in my four dollar thrift store find, I wondered if I might actually get a grudging compliment from my brothers. Maybe one of them would say something in the form of, "You actually look decent for once," or, at least, give me a long stare like they were tongue tied. Those of you who have brothers must be laughing, "Christianna, you're a fool!" Indeed I was.
My then thirteen year old brother met me at the bottom of the stairs and without so much as skipping a beat he said, "Why are you dressed like a pumpkin? Is it national pumpkin day?"
And just like that, my bubble deflated so fast I started giggling. Not at my brother's quip. I'm used to such barbs, but at how classically the scene had unfolded, how ludicrously cliche my thoughts of self-admiration had been, and how predictably they'd been popped. In retrospect I suspect the young malapert probably was impressed, but would never admit to such a thing for he couldn't stop commenting on the squashy nature of my outfit for the rest of the morning. However, the moment was past and I was left with an amusing association.
I still enjoy wearing the dress and think I look good in it too, but every time I see myself in the mirror when I'm wearing it, a part of me wants to click my heels and bark, "Pumpkin first class at your service, sir!" And then I'm laughing, the temptation to put my looks up on a pedestal where they do not belong completely gone.
This experience and many others like it continually remind me how important it is to be able to laugh at oneself, to have the ability not to take oneself too seriously. I imagine God laughs at our affectations a good deal just as a parent laughs when a four year old crams an upside-down bucket on his head, throws the family afghan about his little shoulders and proclaims himself king of the living-room, seated high on his royal recliner.
This doesn't really have anything to do with the picture of the chapel choir posing on the thousand year old night stairs of Hexam Abbey, but it does have a lot to do with the mechanics of singing in a choir like that, and my memories of the tour itself which happened down in England in late May.
So many ridiculous little mistakes will happen during rehearsals and sometimes performances. So many unwanted sentences can burst forth from one's mouth when one spends a lot of time around the same group of people. So many little quirks of one's personality exude themselves when sharing a room, when spending hours on a train, when parading in long skirts and choir robes. There were so many times when I had the choice of feeling horrible for the rest of the day, or just laughing at myself along with everyone else and moving on.
There were so many moments when I thought I looked or sounded like the best thing after sliced bread, and then something happened to make me realize that I was sliced bread, and I just had to be okay with that.
It was a wonderful trip, and so many lovely memories were made such as...
Holly and I walking for a few hours to find trees and cows outside of Newcastle, singing in old places, or eating ridiculously overpriced sandwiches...
being dragged down to the hostel lobby at stupid o'clock to receive and give awards for hilarious things, getting pictures with each of my fellow choir members...one after the other:
Holly was my cohort in crime in most cases(you've seen her above with the cows), and Martin and Ro, two other essential members of the choir were sadly missed. It was such a wonderful time getting to know my fellow choir members better, and the last time I would see many of them for the foreseeable future. I hope that I was able to give back to them even a small fraction of the joy all of them brought to me. It was truly God's blessing. Another time to step back and give thanks for that I have been given.
During this past Sunday's sermon a story was told of a poor woman who cut a slice of bread and poured herself a glass of water for her lunch. When she gazed upon this meager fare, she exclaimed with gratitude, "What, all this, and Christ too?"
That is the kind of rejoicing contentment I should like to have and I have been given far more than a chunk of bread and tumbler of water for lunch. If that woman could rejoice and give thanks in all circumstances, so can I.
Whether it's a wonderful choir trip, a year in Scotland, another composition finished, or a lovely new orange dress, I ought to look towards heaven and exclaim with thankfulness, "What, all this, and Christ too? What blessings indeed are mine."
I thought it would be fun to close with something rather unrelated but simply beautiful that I heard recently. Two separate friends sent it my way, and I fell completely in love with it. I'll let the song do it's own explaining. Really, all it takes is music like this to make me feel like a queen in a castle. God is so good!
Until I write again,
~ Christianna
1 comments:
I was about to email you for an update, thanks for sharing!
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