Hopeless

They say the best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry. Apparently, as I recently discovered, this saying holds true for women too.

Conviction struck me with blunt force several weeks ago; unfortunately (or fortunately?), the brunt of it landed in my closet. Yes, indeed, it was time for my clothing to receive a major overhaul. Although I knew my clothes didn't really portray the changes Christ was making in my heart, I hadn't spent much effort on changing this fact. That is, until now.

"Now what am I going to wear?!" I complained to my sister after trying on the third outfit that morning. "Definitely not THAT," she quickly replied. "It's waaaay to short." Although I had already spent the week discarding my less-than-modest outfits, a few more were discovered hanging on to my closet rack for dear life that Sabbath morn'. Finally, after much exertion, I settled on a perfectly boring dress that was entirely modest. Even though I felt like a spinster, I wore it with a smile knowing that it put my convictions at ease. That is, until I tried to kneel for the congregational prayer...

In one swift move, the back of my dress snagged onto the edge of my chair as I slipped off my chair to pray. Before I could gracefully redeem myself, my dress had lifted itself far above my comfort zone - to say the least! My mortification rose during prayer when I stole a glance (yes, I rose to THAT level of heathenism) to see if anyone was behind me and had witnessed such a humiliating scene. My fingers are still crossed in hopes that the random guy behind me had fallen asleep before prayer...

So what's the moral to this story? I don't know! My best intentions fell completely flat. The only thing left to do is ask yet again: "Now what AM I going to wear??!"