The Christmas Dress

This post is different than my regular writing. I’m actually sharing a short story (under a different title) that I wrote for a lovely girl’s magazine called Brio. I wrote this piece last year for the December issue and now that I own the rights to the story again, I’m free to share it here. Its just a simple little story that was inspired by my beautiful cousin, Kelsey (but she has great taste in bridesmaids’ dresses).

The Christmas Dress

by Emily Downs

Leave it to her brother to ruin Christmas. Sabina stared in the full-length mirror at her red and green plaid dress with a giant velvet black bow at the back, added for good measure. She looked and felt like she was twelve instead of almost fifteen, her next birthday.

Her mom rushed into the room, “Oh Sabina! You look beautiful.”

“Of course, you would say that! I look like I am starring in a Christmas play of Little Women.”          

Mom walked up behind her, “My own little Jo March.”

Sabina spun around. “Mom, I can’t be seen in this. Why do I even have to be in the wedding?”

“It’s an honor to be asked and Delia wanted you and your sister to be a part. I think it was very sweet of her.”

So sweet, Sabina fumed in her head, to dress her like a colonial girl. Not to mention she was now wearing a matching dress with Samantha, her 10-year-old sister, who could not be more annoyingly thrilled about the forced twin outfits.

Sam ran into the room all bouncy ribbons and bows. “Look at us, we look the same.”                                                                                                                               

“My dream come true,” Sabina said dryly.

Sarcasm was lost on Sam and she beamed.   

Mom gave her a look. “Sabina, I want you to remember that this day is not about you. You are a bridesmaid for your brother and Delia, this day is for them.”

“I’m doing it aren’t I? I’m in this dress.” She picked up the plaid dress with disgust, holding it out.

“Your heart isn’t right,” said Mom flatly.

“I can’t make myself like this dress.”

“I’m not asking you to like the dress, but the attitude with which you do things counts just as much as actually doing them.”

Sabina sighed loudly and looked away.

“You know, daughter,” Mom lowered her voice, “The Lord tells us in his Word that He doesn’t look at the outward appearance, but at our hearts. Anybody can go through the motions, but doing it with a loving attitude, that is what pleases God.”

Sabina shrugged, “As long as I’m doing it, what’s it matter?”

 Mom touched her shoulder, “You have the chance to bless other people with your attitude, don’t miss out on that today.”   

Sam spilled her juice and mom leaped to action to save the dress from a juice stain, which Sabina secretly thought, couldn’t make the dress any worse. She was glad Mom’s attention was off her for a while; she didn’t need a lecture in a good attitude. The pictures would end up all over social media and her whole school would be able to see her humiliation. Nobody seemed to care about that.

She stomped off to the bathroom. Pushing open the door she heard crying. Delia was sitting at one of the vanities crying. Sabina wanted to quietly back out of the room, but Delia spotted her in the mirror.

“Oh, Sabina,” she sniffed, dabbing her eye with a tissue. “Sorry you caught me crying.”

“I’m sorry,” said Sabina, “I can go.” She felt instantly uncomfortable. What if she didn’t want to marry Simon anymore or something awful? She should get her mom.

“Come in.” Delia turned from the mirror and faced her.

“I knew I would be emotional today, but it really just hit me.”

Sabina sat in one of the peach chairs in the lounge area and her plaid dress puffed up around her. She tried to pat it down without making a face.

Delia sighed, “I’m so glad you are in the wedding, it means a lot to me. And you look so pretty in that dress.”

“Sure,” said Sabina with a frozen doll-like smile.

“I don’t know if Simon told you, but my mom loved Christmas. It was her favorite day of the year.”

Sabina’s fake smile slipped a little. “I didn’t know that.” She knew Delia’s mom had passed away when she was in high school, but they had never talked about it.

“I’m not sure how to get through this day without her.” She started crying again.

“I’m sorry,” squeaked Sabina, and she meant it. She had never stopped to think about how hard this day would be for Delia without her mom.

“My mom got married on Christmas Eve, too, and those dresses,” she waved at the plaid fabric engulfing the peach chair, “are the same dresses my mom used when she got married. I showed pictures to the dressmaker and she copied them.”

Sabina stared back at her and felt something start to melt in her heart.

“Well, I better stop crying or I’ll never get my makeup done.” She swiveled back in the chair and started applying blush with a shaky hand.

Sabina watched her for a minute and felt like time had slowed. She looked down at the dress she had hated so much and saw something different. She felt her heart change. The dress was not about her or how she looked or what her friends thought. The dress was about Delia’s mom. About how she was without her mom on her wedding day, something Sabina couldn’t imagine.  

“Delia,” she said in quiet voice. “I think this dress is really beautiful.” She wasn’t lying; it really was a beautiful way to honor her future sister-in-law’s mother. She suddenly didn’t care about any of that other stuff. Instantly, she knew that this was what mom meant by blessing others with her attitude. 

Delia turned back to her, “Do you really think so? I know they’re old-fashioned, but I think they are really pretty, too.”

“Yes,” said Sabina and tears spilled out. “I’m so sorry you have to do this without your mom.”

“Oh, look now I have you crying; here have a tissue.” She laughed, “We have to pull it together.”

Sabina laughed too and wiped her eyes. “Thanks for letting me be a part of your wedding and for letting me wear this dress.”

Delia got up to hug her. “I’m so excited to have you as a sister. Here, help me with this makeup.”

At the reception, Mom brought Sabina a piece of cake. “You did a great job today. Delia told me what you said to her in the bathroom before the wedding. That you told her the dress was beautiful.” Mom raised an eyebrow.

Sabina took a bite of cake and nodded. “It really is. I mean that it was her mom’s dress. And,” she said reluctantly, “it might have felt good to do it with the right attitude.”

Mom laughed. “You will never regret letting the Lord use you to bless others. And,” she said with a tip of her head, “it just might come back to bless you.”

Sabina rolled her eyes, but then laughed. “I guess I did have fun today.”

“It’s amazing how our heart can change what our eyes see.” Mom hugged her, “Your heart does look beautiful in that dress.”

*********

“For the Lord sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.” 1 Samuel 16:7b

selfie with my story (I love the illustration)

Although this story was written for a young audience it makes me think about the state of my own heart. I can do the right things with the wrong outlook and it falls flat. A Christmas pie dropped on the floor is still a pie, but nobody wants it. As a parent, I’m always talking about doing things with a good attitude because it really does matter. I want the pie served on a plate (preferably with whipped cream); I’m not all that interested in eating it off the floor. Although an argument could be made that floor pie is better than no pie, but it is clearly not the same experience as plated dessert. Eating it off the floor is really not the mood we were all hoping for here. Like Sabina in the story, she was willing to be in the wedding and wear the dress, but her bad attitude was ruining the actions.

How can we change our hearts when it come to the holidays this year? Maybe something as simple as having patience with the long lines at the bakery, asking the harried shop owner how they are doing or waving at an overworked postal carrier. Taking time to really listen (with patience) to that relative that likes to complain and instead of getting annoyed, maybe trying to redirect their thinking towards all their blessings. One less present to buy and to wrap for the kids traded for an extra Christmas story at bedtime. A moment of acknowledgment for the person who lost someone special and is experiencing the holidays without them for the first time.

We go to the work soiree, the family gathering, the school mixer and we are so often overextended that our hearts are not in it. It feels like one more thing to do, one more present to buy, one more veggie tray to pick up. But what if we change our attitudes and look for someone to bless. A sweet outlook can be infectious and perhaps help someone who is really struggling. A merry heart can make a dreaded task sweeter and allows us to bless others in the midst of the swirl of holiday pressures.

A merry heart doeth good like a medicine . . .

Proverbs 17:22a

Drafts on Floating through the Holidays

Winter came early here in Michigan (and perhaps the whole country). Quite suddenly, we had no idea where our ice scrapers were and snow pants were seemingly sold out overnight. And all this, before I even had a chance to assess if we had any matching gloves (by the way . . . the answer is no; I somehow have only seven right hands - if anyone can explain this to me, please do so). And just like that, the holidays are upon us. While I love the first wave of the season, from pumpkin everything and gingerbread lattes to twinkly lights and Christmas music; it’s all the ambiance with none of the stress. I can enjoy the decorations in my favorite coffee shops and fill my car with Carol of the Bells, until the second wave steamrolls in: then these twinkly lights start on full stroke mode, the music becomes too loud and too frantic and there’s so much stuff to buy and wrap and all the traveling . . . oh, my!!

This year I have decided to try and float through the holidays.

Sounds great, right? 

But how does one float?      

A basic staple of any swim class is learning to float. It doesn’t seem like something we would have to be taught. After all the human body is almost naturally buoyant. If we just relax and fill our lungs with air, we sit on the surface of the water with hardly any effort. Yet, as I sat on the sidelines of a class of beginners’ swim lessons, floating was anything but natural. It was downright terrifying.

My son did not take to swimming easily. He, like many kids, was afraid to go underwater. It took some tough love from a wonderful swim teacher to convince him to put his head underneath the surface. Ms. Liz was loving and patient, but no nonsense. She would listen to his fears and say she understood, but he would, in fact, be going underwater. I completely trusted her and I knew it was very important for him to learn to swim. I, too, understood his fears, but I knew this was an important lesson—vital to a kid that lives in a beach town. As I would wade through his fears and tears to get him where he needed to be to learn to swim, I wondered how God looks at me as I fight an important lesson He is trying to teach me. He understands I’m afraid of the unknown and what could go wrong, but He also knows I must learn to swim in this world.

Once my child went underwater a few times, lo and behold, he not only liked it, he loved it! In fact, a new problem arose as the class stood in line on the submerged ledge; instead of being afraid of putting his head underwater, he was always underwater! (Duly missing the instructions in his lesson.) While I gave him my “get it together eyes” from the sidelines, as the teacher had to ask, yet again, for him to keep his head above water; it secretly made me smile to see him enjoy the water so much. Not only do I want him to be safe, I want him to enjoy the freedom and delight of swimming. Just as we learn all the safety lessons from studying our Bibles, I imagine God smiles, seeing his children enjoy life, but like any loving parent, He wants us to do it safely. He designed us for relationships and he gifted us with talents and skills, he gave us passions and callings, but he knows we could easily drown in them. Unless we first learn to swim.

In the swim class, Ms. Liz would have the kids lay on their backs and practice floating on the surface of the water. She taught them that if they ever get in trouble to just flip over on their backs and float. (A skill we all need during this holiday season.) Well, my child could not do this, he would immediately panic, struggle and sink. The instructor would  say, “Do you trust me not to let you go under?” He would nod yes, but his heart wasn’t in it. Has the Lord asked you to trust Him as he untangles your hurts, moves you forward in something new or closes a chapter in your life? And while you are nodding yes, is your heart panicking? What is He asking of you in this season of celebrations and time with family? Are we drowning under doing it all? Doing it perfectly? Sinking while your arms are full of pumpkin seasoning and rustic sleigh bell gift adornments.  

Ms. Liz helped my son by letting him rest his head on her shoulder as he tried to float. That way he could feel something firm underneath his head and she would whisper to him, “I got you.” I see myself in this, God lets me rest my head on his shoulder (my crazy spinning brain that just needs to rest) while I’m learning to float. When I’m tired and worn out by this world, the demands of life, the fear of moving forward in faith — I can’t even float, I just start to sink. We start to think our gifts aren’t thoughtful enough, our party clothes aren’t sparkly enough and that the cookies came out a bit too chewy (well I don’t think that because everyone knows I will break my own oven to get out of baking). I can rest all my inadequacies on the shoulders of the Lord. I can lay my worries and fears on Him.

Last year my sister came home for Christmas and she texted us and said, I will not be bringing any gifts, the gift is my presence! And you know what? I loved it! I do enjoy giving and getting gifts, but the ultimate gift I can give to you and you can give to me is to be in each other’s lives. So that necklace or scarf I got you is just bonus. I can float though the pressure of . . . is it the right color or the right thing? Should I have done more? This is not the real gift. What you are really unwrapping is a ”thank you” for being there when I call too late or need too much. This one day and this one gift will never be worthy of all the times you made me laugh or got me out of a jam. So, I’m just going to float this pair of gloves over your way and if it’s still in the bag I bought it in, well . . . that’s okay, too.          

The interesting thing about floating is that there is a lot of trust involved. Our bodies will lay on the surface of the water, but only if we relax and let go of all the panic and fear weighing us down. I wrote in my last post (Drafts on Ebb Tide) about how the enemy tries to drown us with lies about how unforgivable we are, how we will never overcome our pain or how we can’t handle our present situation. Sure we can struggle through the water with these burdens, but eventually when we run out of our human energy, we will need rest. The enemy knows we can never float with these things weighing on us. His lies are meant to make us sink. And we can go under in a million ways: drinking too much, escaping into entertainment too often, finding our worth in unstable things like status and money and looks. I personally can feel depression and despair start to pull me away from the people in my life that would uplift me; everything looks dark and I just want to stay under a blanket to cope. And the whole point of the holidays is lost in the enemies lies. And the point? A thankful heart around the thanksgiving table and star-lit eyes over the babe found in the manger. Peace in our souls and good will towards men is the point.

Floating is rest. The rest we need. God designed our bodies to need breaks. When we sleep we heal and recharge. He built night into day, sabbath into the week and our bodies float so we don’t have to always be swimming. When my day swarms me; emails, laundry, hurting friends to pray for, research for my writing and 3rd grade math (which in my case means watching instructional youtube videos and still not understanding) and then I have to come up with something for dinner on top of all that?!

Swim lessons; life lessons

I need time in my day to just float and on those days that I can’t even float because I feel too crazy, the Lord lets me lay my head on His shoulder and whisper, “I’ve got you.” I open my Bible and the living Word soothes me and I ask the Holy Spirit to help me and He buoys my soul (even though nothing in my physical world has actually changed). So I heat up soup and toast bread and laugh at 3rd grade math because seriously, what else is there to do? And I float.

We float because our lungs are full of air. My air is God. He fills me. He holds me until I can swim again. When things are really bad, when I’m afraid and lost He lets me lay my head on something firm. His Word is firm. His character is solid. His truth is enough to carry all my weights until I let Him cut them loose. Then when exhaustion hits, I know what to do. I flip over on my back and float. A prayer in the car. A Bible verse check on my phone. Truth is in my head and faith in my heart, where it can’t be lost or misplaced. It’s really not that hard as it turns out, but it feels scary. Like my son in swim class, it takes a leap of faith, that feeling as you start to sink, but then somehow you don’t. The Holy Spirit brings you back up to the surface where you can lay there and just breathe.

So this year I’m going to try and float through the holidays. The gifts will never be enough, I will be overly tired from traveling and a little jittery from all the coffee. I most likely will not be at my best. So if you want to have a little cry in the spare bedroom or borrow my undereye concealer come find me. I’m going to try and not panic and just rest in God.

My advice for this busy, crazy festive season is to start practicing floating.             

In what areas of your life are you drowning and instead of flipping over on your back to float—you are panicking? Is it finances? Health? Relationships? 

How do you drown in the holidays? What would it look like if you tried floating through? Simple unwrapped gifts, less commitments, buy the cookies? (I mean, I have to because my oven is broke)  

Drafts on Kindness in Tiny Beads

Bins of teeny-tiny Perler beads awaited us at the elementary craft night at our library. My child had been begging for these minuscule beads for over a month. In case you missed it, check out my last post on How I Melted the Dog’s Face to see our first round with this craft. I avoided them for about two years, but my number had been called. We are back for more, but fooled not by their cheerful riot of colors: neon, pastel and sparkly. I know exactly how this was going to go down. There will be certain colors needed, tiny beads stuck to sweaty little hands, all going everywhere except the peg on which they are supposed to land. Tables bumped, tears (mostly mine), and this just a night of fun crafts with kids. So as you can see, I went into the event with the right attitude.

I had brought along my computer to hopefully catch up on some work, thinking I would sit in the hallway and not necessarily participate in this struggle, I mean craft activity. But I could quickly see, with the time restraints, that parental participation would be needed, if I ever hoped to make it out of here before bedtime. So without much deliberation, my son chose to do a wolf and of course would need mostly grays and whites. It became apparent to all the parents that we would be the one digging out colors, that is, if we didn’t want to spend the night to finish this project. While an overnight in the library has its appeal, those bean bag chairs in the corner looked suspiciously like some place I would not like to lay my head.

So, I sorted through hot pink, clear and royal blue beads to hand-pick the desired hues. It was a full-time, absorbing job that had me glancing longingly at my computer. But I resigned myself to my task as his beaded Minecraft wolf began to take shape before my eyes, along side the other creations of butterflies and puppies. As moms asked their kids what colors they needed next and grey, white or pink was called out, something interesting began to happen. One little girl delivered a handful of black beads that she had sorted out for a boy at her table. I thought, well, that was sweet and carried on plucking out our needed colors. Soon another girl delivered a small cache of white to someone else at our table. We all looked up and acknowledged her thoughtfulness.

Next, an adorable little girl delivered an offering of gray to my son. He was thrilled and touched by her kindness. Such a little thing I thought, but it seemed to ignite something at our table. My son asked the dark-haired girl across from him what color she needed and started searching for her orange beads. My rational mind thought . . . well, what’s the point? If we all look for our own colors it would be just as effective. But that’s not the point, is it? While these kids showed up to make Perler bead creations, they were actually participating in a big life lesson. Kindness was being passed out in tiny beads. It was catching!! Most of the kids at our table were actively looking for colors for other children, eager to show a complete stranger that they cared enough to help. They did not know each other’s names or backgrounds; they had no idea if that child had a good day or a bad day, they were not doing it to win favor or get a prize. They were simply being kind.

Our lives are so busy and harried we often don’t take time to show each other kindness. We are always on to the next things, running late, forgetting something, needing to make a phone call or send an email. I think if I just keep my head down and keep typing and posting and emailing, I just might be able to get my work done. I plan my days so tight there is no breathing room for say, a break-down (I usually have those in the car or the shower) or to lose my phone, panic and then realize I’m talking on it (you guys do that, too, right?). I often go to bed the night before already overwhelmed by the day to come. Meetings follow meetings, I dive through the grocery store on the way to something else and vacuum just the parts that show (please don’t look behind my couch or under it!).

I tend to work in coffee shops (big perk of freelance) but one issue is running into people I know when I’m under a deadline. We will say Hi and I try to show through the frantic look in my eyes, that I have just this little window of time to get my work done. I must be doing something wrong because this seems to invite them to sit down at my table and tell me what is going on in their lives. While I feel like I don’t have time for this, I am also quite certain this exactly what I am supposed to be doing. You see, I pray in the morning that the Lord will use me to encourage others, help others and be someone that can show God’s love in a tangible human (although, flawed) way. And then, I promptly act put out when He actually does. People—why are we so ridiculous?

We can all stay in our own lanes, getting our work done, finding our own beads. But is that the point? Maybe part of this time here on earth is helping others find their beads and letting them help us find ours. Not one of those kids was worried about getting their own project done. They were not hurried or stressed. Remember those days? No? Me either. Yes, I need to post for work, and make that phone call and write that piece and there is a time for that, but there is also a time for kindness. There is time to listen and time to do someone a favor and time to pray, and you know what, I never regret it. There will always be another thing in my work inbox and more dishes to wash and somehow we are always out of essential staples, like bread or butter or dark chocolate. But I want to look back and say, I took time to show kindness to the people God has put in my life and the stranger he often sits next to me at a coffee shop.

Although kindness doesn’t cost money, it often costs time. My husband says time is money (when I want him to cut the lawn or wash the windows), but time does not seem to cost as much when there is a baseball game - hmmm? So, there is a cost. When I take a phone call at an inconvenient time because someone needs to vent or when I linger over coffee with a downhearted friend because they need a soft place to cry, I never think . . . well, that was a waste of time. No, I think that it is what I was supposed to be doing. But now, when will I edit that copy I wrote for a client? The time it takes to show kindness is not free, but I count the cost and find it worth every penny! And you know what? Others do the same for me—they listen, they bring meals, they encourage, they let me cry and they give me rides. I don’t usually stop to think that this cost them something; they started dinner late or didn’t make it to the store or lost a precious time to read before bed, but they counted the cost and found it worth their time.

If life is an exchange of colored beads, I want to know what color you need.

Write about an instance where you made time to be kind. What did it cost you? Was it worth it?

Journal about how you can make a change in your day and outlook that will make more time for kindness.