Dress for the Season

I smooth my hands down the front of my wine-colored dress, assessing my appearance reflected in the mirror. Does this dress hide my mommy tummy or accentuate it? I twist side to side and look at all sides. The back is lace detailed and stunning, but at a certain angle, my front looks about 2-3 months pregnant, which I am not. I dejectedly pull off the beautiful, yet unflattering dress, and root around in my closet for another. My anniversary is approaching; we are celebrating with a night away and a delicious dinner. I want to dress up and feel pretty, but since I’m planning to eat in abundance, I accept that this dress is not my friend. I’d rather be comfortable than self-conscious, or Spanx contained.

My closet holds about a dozen dresses of varying sizes and styles, from cute and casual to elegant and sexy. This season of my life, most of them don’t fit well. I look longingly at the multicolored options safely stored in dry cleaning bags but pass them over. My self-esteem isn’t up to the task of trying on more clothes that won’t fit. Still, each dress holds memories from a different time of my life. The beautiful periwinkle dress I celebrated our 5th anniversary in is sandwiched next to the blush pink dress that was picture perfect in our last maternity photographs. My polka dot Kate Spade dress, found on sale at the outlets and worn at a friend’s wedding, is in the same bag as the seersucker dress I found at a garage sale and wore the Easter I successfully lost the baby weight from our second child. A dozen others are hanging alongside those with my memories and moments woven into their fabric.

Eventually, I settle on an outfit I’m happy with. It passes the multi-angle test, it’s flattering, and best of all, it has pockets. I neatly fold the floral skirt and a jean jacket and place them in the suitcase with my white t-shirt and yellow flats: one outfit down, and a few more to overpack. I start counting on my fingers the number of outfits I need, regular clothes, nice clothes, hiking clothes, pajamas, and the staples of socks and underwear. Then it hits me; I need to pack masks. This is a new one for me. I’ve never traveled and needed masks. I assume you pack them like underwear, one a day plus a handful more because the last thing you ever want to find yourself short on is underwear, and I guess now masks too.

This is such an odd season of my life— me and everyone else. These fabric masks are being woven with memories, just like my closet full of dresses. I’m not sure how long this particular season will last, but 14 years of marriage has given me the perspective to know that things come and go in their time. There are great seasons and hard ones, and sometimes they go together. There are blissfully ignorant times and times we learn under experience’s stern tutelage. There are the skinny times, and the times we look longingly at a closet full of too-small dresses. All of these seasons weave themselves into the fabric of a life full of potential and purpose. And all of these seasons, whether surprising, disappointing, or exciting, didn’t surprise our sovereign God. The God who knows the hairs on my head knew the floral skirt I’d choose to wear and the yellow polka dot mask I’d need to go with it. He’ll hold my hand through each season of this life, and together with my husband, we’ll walk together through every season God knows will come.

“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:
a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
a time to tear, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace.”

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 (ESV)