As many (although not all) girls would agree, there are few things that are more comfortable and rejuvinating than a soft spring dress to make you feel the wind and the sun in ways that winter had never allowed. This is one of my favorite dresses, and last Easter it found itself being showcased at the Easter Sunday Service of the Church that was so kindly hosting us in Mexico City, where almost everyone is dressed up and wearing their whitest clothing.
It was during this church service that an unusual and, to me, un momento triste took place. As is customary in most churches, there's this awkward, terrible moment when the pastor says these dreaded words, "let's all take a moment and greet eachother." Okay, okay, technically, this a great gesture, but for someone not fond of group interactions, it's a little bit uncomfortable. Now take this-awkward-in-my-own-country ritual, and put it in a country where you don't speak the language and cultural greetings are very different (i.e. in Mexico it is customary to either hug or kiss on the cheek - something I'm not particularly good at, and inevitably always end up with either someones lips, or, as a desperate attempt to evade such a fate, kissing someones shoulder, which is equally confusing and off-putting), and I'm even more out of my element.
Just as a flood of 60% introvert based relief washes over me when the congregation begins returning to their seats, an abuelita comes up to me, tugging on my dress. I was confused, as I didn't recall her sitting near me, but assumed she was trying to greet me so proceeded to give her a hug. ..Which she promptly pulled away from, tugged on my dress again, and stated, very purposefully, "me gusta tu vestido." (I like your dress)
Uh oh. Hadn't I been warned that when someone expresses an interest/like in something, it's customary for the owner to give them that item? It hadn't come up in the previous 6 months of living there, so I dismissed it with an anxious "Yo tambien, jaja, gracias." Realizing I wasn't exactly catching on to the cultural practices, she persisted with a slur of words I couldn't quite make out, until Chris (who I had been sitting with) entered the conversation and confirmed my fear that she would like for me to give her my dress. "Err, uhh, lo siento," I blushingly stammered, "esta un regalo de mi madre," (I'm sorry, but it's a gift from my mother.)
A lie. If anything, it was the token gift from my travels to Toronto to myself, discovered in a vintage thrift store I knew I wouldn't be seeing again, and sort of bizarrely close to my hearts as one of the few things I've found thrifting that I legitimately love, as if that somehow justified the lie. Her face sunk as she nodded and walked away as Chris and I sat down to listen to the sermon.
It was a long sermon, longer when you only understand every 13th word, and for all I was thinking about could have translated to "what just happened? how did you respond? was that the right choice?" Perhaps sensing my uneasiness, Chris leaned over and whispered something about that being uncommon, and "don't worry about it too much." But all I could think about was this verse..
Was it, "give to those in need," or "give to all who ask of you," or something different? If it was need, it could be easily argued that she did not NEED my dress - she seemed fairly well dressed herself, and as she was a good foot shorter than me, with a completely different body type, I wasn't convinced she would even like the way the dress looked on her, if it fit at all. But if it was give to all who ASK, then everything was on me.
It wasn't about what the item was, if I liked it or not, if she would put it to better use, if it was one-of-a-kind to me or if it was out was off some clearance rack at Target. It was the fact that Jesus calls us to put Him first, and to love our neighbor as ourself, and if I am holding on to things like little spring dresses over either of those two, then I am dishonoring my call. Everything I own has been given to me, and not always just so that I may have it, but also because I'm also entrusted to pass it along to the right person, or use it in whichever way it's meant for.
I left in the middle of the service silently, going to my room and quickly slipping on jeans and one of Hannah's nicer white camisa's. I found the lady in one of the back pews, lowered it gently in to her hands. She looked shocked, horrified at first, perhaps embarrassed by her own request earlier, amplified by the fact that I had (falsely) claimed it as a gift from my mother. But I kept it firmly in her hands, insisting, "es un regalo para ti (it is a gift for you)," and nodding that it was alright. Her eyes, still wide, got teary, and I quickly smiled and returned to my seat. "Don't even say anything," I whisper-commanded to Chris, who had obviously noted my clothing change. I don't know why I didn't want him to acknowledge it. I was still kind of torn.
Half of me felt I had done the right thing, the other half - my 'fear of man,' my pride, I guess, felt embarrassed by what it must look like.
The whole thing was ironic. Here I am, feeling so awkward, struggling so much over such a small sacrifice, and it's on easter. It's not even until now, in retrospect, that I made the comparison. Easter is a day when we celebrate the resurrection, but it's a resurrection and a power that would never have been possible without sacrifice. If I felt silly giving my dress away, I have to bet that Jesus felt down right ridiculous and humiliated letting himself be publicly defeated, mocked, judged, and ultimately led to his death - and to SO MUCH greater of an extent than I will ever feel or deal with! But without his death there would be no life. Without killing the parts of us that cling to this world - our selfishness, fear, materialism, pride.. we don't allow room for the beautiful things to take over.
I have no idea what giving away my dress meant, maybe it was really touching to that lady, maybe she felt hella awkward afterwards and it didn't mean anything. All I know is that our sacrifices are so little, so meager, so unworthy in comparison to God's... and yet we still hesitate to make them. It's really sad to me that this post is being written because that is something unusual in my life - that it is not normal for me.
But I want it to be the norm, because I know that it's not until I let go of all those things I cling to, that I'm truly free to climb to higher ground.
So, here's this post.. an outward expression of a desire I have to live by conviction, to remember the place of small sacrifice in my life, in the hopes that one day soon the sacrifices will be bigger, and bigger, but I won't even recognize them as sacrifices anymore. They'll just be part of life, the dirty and broken parts of life, being traded in for something so much better, so much more beautiful, even if I won't get to see the outcomes here on this earth.
Luke 6:30-31 Give to everyone who asks you, and if anyone takes what belongs to you, do not demand it back. Do to others as you would have them do to you.
