Victoria Advocate/ A Different Perspective
I’ve been glued to my computer this past month, but it’s proved hard to stay focused as the calendar inches closer to our trip to Brazil for our son’s wedding. Even as I write, I switch gears to jot down last-minute errands.
Though my hands and mind were full of book-launch tasks, I could no longer put off a shopping trip. As mother of the groom, there was absolutely no getting around the need for new wedding attire.
Once I’d made up my mind, I made a hasty trip to Dillard’s to scrutinize the options. It’s embarrassing to admit the last time I purchased formal attire, but all the reasons why came back in a rush. For one thing, the dresses are hung high to keep the hems from dragging the floor. For a shortie like me, it’s like playing jumpball to reach the hangers.
Nevertheless, I refused to be overwhelmed by the unfair height or the myriad of options. No worries. The older I get, the number of wearable dresses narrows quickly. A bright pink flouncy skirt ensemble was lovely, except the longer I stared at it, the certain knowledge that I’d look like a fluffy pink ball rolling down the aisle thrust through any wishful thinking. The pretty pastel choices made me look like a ghost. Other dresses showed too much skin, and still others were too much dress.
I finally found a fashionable long black skirt. Every woman needs one of those in her wardrobe for dressy occasions. If nothing else worked, I could pair it with one of Mom’s fancy tops and be presentable. Still, a wedding isn’t the occasion to settle for presentable, so my search for classy and sophisticated continued.
Plunging ahead, I tried on several might-work dresses. I made a mental note to take a girlfriend with me if/when there is a next time to help with zippers and pictures. And somewhere during the ordeal, I managed to bring down a rack of dresses. Yes, the whole thing collapsed in a quiet-but-determined whoosh of sequin, color, and frothy fabric.
After the rack-episode, I spied a dress I liked when I first walked in. The one where my first impression was, this one will probably work. It was the one, of course. I could have saved myself a lot of trouble if I’d just remembered that on my first trip to the dressing room.
Armed with a new black skirt and pictures of the dress, I went to Mom’s and announced it was time to try on her party blouses. She was delighted to see the picture of me in wedding attire and added her stamp of approval. It’s good to have a mama. After three different tries, I chose a two-piece top that had a story behind it.
At my daughter’s wedding, her soon-to-be mother-in-law and my mother showed up wearing the same outfit. Well, that faux pas fell under the category of things-you-never-want-to-happen, but they carried it off with dignity until one husband thought it was funny. Oops.
Finally at home, I emailed the pictures of my new outfits to my daughter-in-law. She was loving (and diplomatic enough) to say they were beautiful, and I could wear whichever one I felt comfortable in. Bless her sweet little heart.
I need to try on the outfits again to figure out shoes and accessories. Not sure if I can manage heels. Things haven’t quite been the same since my hip replacement, and it just won’t do at all for the bride’s new mother-in-law to stumble and fall during the ceremony.
It really does come down to trusting the Lord and believing what He says—“Then you will walk in your way securely and your foot will not stumble,” (Proverbs 3:23, NAS).
I’m literally taking Him at His word these days.