The Dress and Resurrection

My parents and the dress

I was packing to head to North Carolina and then the beach.  For the first time in years I hadn't bought an Easter dress.  What to wear?  I went through my closets pushing dresses back and forth and my hand kept settling on one and something in my heart kept saying, "wear that one."  I argued with myself, "It's really too dressy for the beach--even for Easter."  "Wear that one." I kept hearing.

I've worn that dress one time--April 2010 to my Daddy's and Marguerite's wedding.  It was not a happy event for me at the time; it was not a night I'm proud of or a night I want to remember.  I've written about it--that too was painful.  (The Death and Resurrection of My Family) Oh we've come so far beyond that night, but that dress just reminded me of the grief and pain.  I don't know why I have never gotten rid of it.  I

The Wedding

really didn't want to wear it again.  It took me back, and I didn't want to go back. We had all moved forward--I didn't want to remember that night.  That was my Good Friday--I just want Easter.  "Wear that one."  I heard again.

Oops--as I drove into Charlotte I realized I had forgotten The Dress.  Oh well..."Wear that one."  I was beginning to think I was losing it.  Why wouldn't this voice shut up!?!?!?!  Fine, I'll call Chris and ask him to bring it.  If he forgets, well oh well..... guess what?  He remembered.

Last night I realized why I had to wear that dress--it needed, I needed, something tangible that reminded me of resurrection.  I hadn't gotten rid of the dress--it was a symbol of some sorts.  For me it was a reminder of pain--but it was just a dress, actually a nice dress, but I just looked at it and saw grief, and pain and figurative death.  I mentioned I was wearing it today for the first time since their wedding.  And I told my dear friend Jamie that Marguerite and I had fought that night.  She was shocked.  "Really?  You two?  I can't imagine that." "Yeah," I said, "It wasn't a good night.  We had words."--Marguerite looked at me and quietly said, "It was my wedding."

It stung; it stung because I knew that I had hurt her and she hadn't forgotten.  It hurt because I knew I had hurt her that night and despite that she has been nothing but good and kind to me ever since.  She had been hurt and she had never said, she had just loved me at my pace--on my terms. Now I was panicked--do I wear the dress?  Will it hurt her?  I do have something else I can wear.  "Wear the dress."  (Seriously voice--SHUT UP!!!)

I got up and put on the dress.  We took pictures--my parents and I--my daddy and my bonus mama. (I also realized this was the first weekend I introduced them to people as my parents--it doesn't change I still have two living parents, but some of us need more than two....) During church we passed the peace; I hugged and kissed Daddy and Marguerite.  After I kissed Marguerite a woman shook my hand and said, "I love your dress." and she concluded with, "I'm glad you and your parents are here today."  "Me too," I thought, "Me too."

This afternoon I've been thinking about Good Friday, Holy Saturday and Easter.  I've been thinking about the cross and all the beautiful crosses I have and I wear.  I thought about how in the first century the cross was just a symbol of cruelty, punishment, violence and death, and how we now adorn our churches, our homes, and our bodies with them.  That Easter morning over 2000 years ago, Jesus transformed the cross and the world.  Because of God's unconditional love, acceptance, inclusion, and grace the cross is no longer a reminder of pure violence--of grief and pain--but is also a reminder of God's redeeming unconditional love.  We don't have to live in Good Friday, but we do go back and we do intentionally remember--every year.  We remember so that we never forget how our lives, how the world, have been transformed because of the first Good Friday and Easter morning. Remembering doesn't mean we are living in the past, but it reminds us to give thanks for the reconciling love of God and it gives us the hope that the whole world will someday live into Easter morning.

It's a pretty dress; it's fine, but it's just a dress.  We--Marguerite and I-- have a beautiful relationship, a relationship transformed because of love and forgiveness and grace.