Memos from the Middle

Dress the Part

The incessant drizzle outside confirmed it was a sweatpants kind of day. A familiar anxiety had settled in my spirit overnight, and I considered all the ways I could bow out of life for the day. I stopped my wake-up alarm and crawled back to bed for more sleep, hoping that fatigue produced my ill-feeling and knowing that my husband’s alarm would keep me from being late. I determined to meet the day, regardless of how I felt.

But that heaviness I cannot always dissect lingered, and I dragged to Bible study and prayer, my morning routine, to ground myself in something outside myself. Before, I took that early, abiding gloom as a warning sign about the impending difficulty of the day ahead. I believed that God was gearing me up for some challenge or hardship as a way to protect me from impulsive reaction. Over time, I have come to learn that that belief always manifested itself in more anguish even if no one else could sense it. I found myself looking for confirmation of adversity, and I never came up short. So now, when I perceive the weight of melancholy has come down on me, I dress up.

I headed to the closet to see what delightful little outfit could remind me all day that I controlled the mindset I would carry. A black cottage core dress leapt into my hands as the rain outside beat down menacingly on the metal awning. A wide, red belt, I reasoned, would be the perfect waist-cinching device. I fished through my jewelry box for the red and gold dangly earrings that a neat, high bun would allow to be the main attraction. My dainty gold, M-initialed necklace hanging from my neck would peak from the collar.

“Lord,” I prayed, “help me remember there is no peace apart from You.” I assembled my outfit on the bed. A new perfume misted at every layer would remind me that I chose to feel joy every time I removed or added pieces as the day progressed. “Give me the courage to bring Your light with me everywhere I go.” I unwrapped a new lipstick and carefully lined my lips, practicing a heartfelt smile until I could genuinely gift it to someone else. I breathed a reassuring sigh, and walked confidently and unhurriedly in the rain toward my car.

My heels clacked as I stepped off the rug into the school. “I can’t stand all this rain,” the security guard complained to my intentionally cheery, “How are you today?” Me either, I thought, but my black trench coat and strategically mismatched scarves, the ones I pressed to my chest as I leaned over to sign in, sent a powdery puff of sweetness up my nostrils.

“There are worse things to face outside than a little rain,” I said before adding, “I’ll take the rain over that, you know?” I beamed kindly at him, and he smiled and agreed reflectively. I straightened my back to head toward the 1st grade classroom to check on a teacher’s progress.

Hours later, standing at my closet to hang my coat, my youngest daughter swooned from behind. “Who you get all dressed up for today, Mama? Look at you.”

“What do you mean?” I turned to face her. She dramatically surveyed my outfit with her forefinger following every place her eyes examined.

“Ok. I see you!” I laughed at her and reached up to cup her pretty face in my hand.

“Sometimes, I get dressed up early in the morning for the five minutes my man will see me in it at the end of the day.” I winked suggestively, knowing the result.

“Eww!” she squealed as she rolled her eyes in mock disgust. “That’s nasty!”

When I sat down at my desk, where I had started the morning with God and a journal, my husband slid over a chair and reached down to unzip the cone-heeled boots that had carried me through the day.

“Did you have a good day, Beautiful?”

“I did, Handsome.”

“What was the best part?”

“Ten minutes from now,” I grinned, telling him with just my eyes how the night would end.

“We don’t have to wait that long! Let me get you out these clothes!”