LILIES OF THE FIELD—PART 1

“For this reason I say to you, do not be worried about your life, as to what you will eat or what you will drink; nor for your body, as to what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air, that they do not sow, nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not worth much more than they? And who of you by being worried can add a single hour to his life? And why are you worried about clothing? Observe how the lilies of the field grow; they do not toil, nor do they spin, yet I say to you that not even Solomon in all his glory clothed himself like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the furnace, will He not much more clothe you? You of little faith! Do not worry then, saying, ‘What will we eat?’ or ‘What will we drink?’ or ‘What will we wear for clothing?’ For the Gentiles eagerly seek all these things; for your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you. So do not worry about tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”

At the start, I apologize for the lack of Scripture text and exposition in Part 1 of this blog post. I promise, there will be more tomorrow. Today, is a glimpse into why I chose the title for my blog.

I’ve loved flowers for as long as I can remember. My mom had beautiful flower gardens because she loved them, too. We used to go out together in different growing seasons and consider, or examine carefully, the different species of flowers that grew around our house. My father-in-law loved flowers, as well; and we did the same at his home when I would visit. When I had children and we celebrated their birthdays, my mom started a tradition of bringing me a bouquet of flowers for their parties because I gave her the gift of grandchildren. I hope to keep that tradition one day with any future daughters-in-law.

I love beautiful things…like beautiful clothing. In fact, I believe my mother instilled that love in me from a young age with the beautiful hand-made clothing she sewed for my sister and me. Many home videos evidence the fact that we spun around and around as we modeled her creations for the camera. While my love of flowers has never caused a sinful desire in my heart, I cannot say the same for my love of clothing and fashion, in general. Let me explain.

It wasn’t long after starting junior high that I began to associate the cool kids with a great wardrobe. My first job at the age of 15 was solely motivated by the desire to purchase a better wardrobe, one that would thrust me into the cool kids’ social circle. In fact, one of my jobs was working in a quaint shop in town that had a whole department filled with women’s clothing. I loved that job, although I couldn’t seem to make any money there. I had a part-time job for my wardrobe, and another one to make my car payment and pay my telephone bill.

Though I will refute the charges and verdict until the day I die, I was convicted of the crime of money laundering and spent almost four years in prison. The whole ‘prison trial’ began in 2006; and in many ways, continues today. Due to the element of concealment associated with those charges, I feel the need to get that out there in the beginning of all my relationships today. With that said, however, I don’t wish to linger on the accusations or charges but to put my focus on what truly matters in all things, and that is God’s glory alone. The most monumental of lessons I have learned in life are in times of suffering and trials. Learning to rest in God’s sovereign care enables me to embrace hard times from His hands of love for my good and His glory.

A lesson I learned years after I was released from prison took me by surprise on my way to church one morning. The irony of my destination was not lost on me. The realization that I have spent a great deal of my life toiling and spinning in worry regarding what I should put on hit hard. On that morning, and so many others like it, I knew I would return home to a bedroom that looked as though a bomb had exploded in my flurry to find something to wear—something that I deemed acceptable for worship! Having struggled with wild fluctuations in weight my whole life, I have several sizes of whole wardrobes in my closet(s) at any given time. What hit me the hardest was how my intense endeavors to cover up my weight with clothing had affected all my social relationships as far back as I can remember. Why? Sin. Pride. I was crushed by the weight of my sin. I had gone through enough trials in my life to know that this life is not about me. It’s all about Him and His glory! And, oh, how I want my life to reflect that. But my heart was telling a different story. I knew it, and so did He.

Prison was my institute of highest learning. Like Mary, sitting at the Master’s feet, I soaked in things I could never learn on “the outside”. I remember writing to family members something along this line soon after I was put in County Jail. “People really seem to like me.” I remember being so surprised by that. I couldn’t hide behind my wardrobe, my wealth, or anything else that kept me from vulnerably opening myself up to other people.

In prison, everything is neutral. Alderson Prison Camp sits as a magnificent jewel in a crown of mountains that surround it. Other than the beauty of His creation, prison is neutral and bland from the food to the clothing. Dressed in nothing but khaki, brown, or gray, everyone, at first glance, looks the same. Known only by a number, even our names had no flavor or distinction until one got to know the heart of another. Some of those friendships forged out of like suffering ran deep with color. But the sentiment that was overheard again and again was, “When I get out of here, I’m never going to wear khaki, brown or gray.” I happen to like khaki, brown, and gray, so I wasn’t thinking along those lines, but I was thinking about the clothes I had packed away, and how I couldn’t wait to wear something beautiful again. Because I had lost 80 pounds in prison, not much fit when I got home, but that didn’t stop me from indulging my passion for fashion through the discovery of on-line thrifting. And, my mother-in-law brought me everything from belts and shoes to coats and every other wardrobe item I could ever need for any event. And, I reached out socially like I had never done before. (Extra hard for a convicted felon!)

In the span of a few years, exposed to real food and real life once again, I began to pack on the pounds. With the pounds, came the need to hide behind my clothes. When the Lord opened my eyes to this parallelism between clothing and being able to socially connect in order to truly love my neighbor, He gave me the gift of unconditional friendship. Joining me to a group of women who had been sharing life and meeting for Bible studies, prayer, and fellowship for over 30 years, slowly, I began to shed the layers of fear and anxiety releasing me to love and be loved by them. When we got together, it was evident that we loved the Lord and we loved each other. We enjoyed dressing up, but we didn’t need to. I have moved away from these dear ladies, and I sorely miss them; but I know that our hearts will remain connected and intertwined with cords of eternal love.

It’s true what they say that women do dress for women. However, my mandate is only ever to dress for a party of One. Further, the dress He requires He has already lavishly, graciously supplied! More on that tomorrow…