You don't have to signal a social conscience by looking like a frump. Lace knickers won't hasten the holocaust, you can ban the bomb in a feather boa just as well as without, and a mild interest in the length of hemlines doesn't necessarily disqualify you from reading Das Kapital and agreeing with every word. --Elizabeth Bibesco

Sunday, March 20, 2011

Prayer Times

So, when I started this, I figured I'd be most likely to pray when I was hot and sweaty or freezing cold. Truly, though, I pray most when I'm trying to figure out what to wear for the day (or for an event). While I'm flinging things around my room trying to find a shirt, a shell and a skirt (and often a headcovering) that all match, I freak out... and then remember to pray. Often, I'm in such a state that the only thing I can remember to pray is the prayer one of my priests announced in my first Lent as an official Episcopalian: "Lord Jesus Christ, only Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner." I don't know how common a prayer that is-- but for me it epitomizes my prayers during Lent. I repeat it over and over until slowly I realize that clothes are the least of my worries.

I am dust, after all. My death is looming. And I'm a sinner. Thank goodness I don't have to earn redemption-- I'd never make it. It brings me full force into the reality of how badly I need Christ.

Needless to say, I think every once-in-a-while, my Lenten discipline achieves its goal: I remember that there are things that are much more important than clothes.


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