Sometimes You Want To Evoke a Pretty Schoolmarm

Yesterday I threw out the entire worship service I had prepared and, in consultation with my Director of Religious Education and Music Director and some parents and RE Committee members, re-structured the Order of Service a little bit, chose new readings and chucked the entire sermon and wrote a new one.

That’s a lot of work. You may very likely have done the same thing.

I get very careful, slow and methodical when this sort of thing needs to happen. Just attentive and calm, doing what needs to be done next, listening and thinking “hmmmm” and then re-crafting with a listening ear to the Holy Spirit.

I loved our worship service today. I will always remember it. It was powerful to be together, and it was deep. Since this is a blog about clergy image and self-care, I won’t get into liturgical detail. I want to talk about image and self-care, which I am starting to hate more and more as an expression. SELF-CARE. It sounds like a euphemism for — well, you know what. Lately I’m thinking of it more as “keeping your s*** together.” I’m just calling it like I see it, sweet friends. Good God, I’m hearing about too much pain and dysfunction out there in your ministries. Are you guys okay? That’s what I asked my congregation just right before the sermon this morning. I just said, “You okay?”

Of course we’re not okay. What I am today, though, is so on-my-knees grateful to be hooked into a community and way of life where we abide together in the not-okayness. What are those old gospel lyrics? Standing in the need of prayer? Yes, Lord.

At about 11:30 pm last night I realized that I was having a bit of an anxiety attack, which felt at first like maybe an allergic reaction and Benadryl situation. I’m allergic to horses and had been hanging around with two horse friends early in the day, but that wasn’t it (I usually wear gloves when I stroke my horse babies’ muzzles, and then I launder the gloves). Was it the cat? I stopped working and breathed. Oh. An anxiety attack coming on. It has been years since I’ve had one, so I stopped what I was doing to do my breathing exercises. I did not want to take any medication for anxiety because I wanted to be super sharp in the morning for church.

This is the breathing exercise that I do. I quietly finished writing the sermon, turned off the computer and went to bed. When I woke this morning I did more breathing exercises. I took the dog outside and made a nutritious smoothie as I do every morning. I reviewed the service, edited the sermon a bit and printed everything out.

I showered and stood in the closet, thinking. What to wear today? Usually, this decision takes about one minute to make. This morning, I gave it more time. For one thing, when I’m upset and distracted I get easily confused and can wind up wearing something that makes me feel awkward when I realize later what I’ve put on. Today I stood in front of my clothes and thought, “I want to look pretty. I want to look pretty, like a nice lady who smiles at you and makes you feel safe.” I was thinking of teachers I have known, and librarians who seemed like ladies who could keep the world sane with their shiny shoes and rolled up hair. My elementary school librarian had such hair, as did my adored fourth grade teacher, who retired mid-year and taught me that civilized people are not Yankees fans. She was a Red Sox fan, a Boston Brahmin from way back.

I consciously chose an outfit that felt old-fashioned teacher/librarianish. A slightly flared skirt and round-toed heels with a double buckle, worn with sheer hose (which I almost NEVER wear). An ivory silk blouse and sensible brown cardigan. I wore sparkly diamond studs and my Advent sparkly Star of Bethlehem pendant. I made a special effort with my hair and make-up, adding a brand new sparkly hair comb to my uptwist. The comb was a gift that arrived in the mail yesterday from devoted Pigeon, Beth Sheppard, who reads and comments here frequently. Beth, having that beautiful comb in today helped me to feel connected to you and to all my readers who were leading similarly difficult and emotional worship services. I cannot thank you enough for your timing and your sweetness. I think I had this on my Amazon.com Wishlist but I will go check. If so, it’s way more beautiful in person than it was in the on-line photos.

Funny how different an outfit looks without a bodacious body in it.

The care I took with my hair, outfit and make-up really helped me manage my emotions this morning. I’m not going to say that my voice didn’t crack and I didn’t shed a few tears but I felt like I was standing in a long line of strong, capable women who can lead a group of scared children in a lesson and in song. I was able to greet our chronological children with a cheerful “good morning” and give them a genuine smile. I was not tempted to grab them and smother them with kisses and hugs because I had taken on the persona of a more formal lady who wouldn’t behave that way. I know that sounds weird but I feel sometimes when I’m getting ready for a challenging day that I do choose a special guiding angel or ancestor spirit whose wisdom and presence I hope to be able to convey in some part, and my attire evokes them for me. Do you know what I mean? What looks to everyone else looks like the average skirt and sweater but to me, the combo has some sort of talismanic power.

The ladies I knew growing up who wore such outfits (skirt, sweater, silk blouse, heels, an uptwist)could keep me safe through anything. They were so strong and fierce and ladylike. These weren’t women you ever saw disheveled in sweats or yoga pants or clothes with elastic waists. They were old-school formal. They commanded affection AND respect, and if not affection, absolutely and always respect. You would not see them come to school or piano lessons with bed head or sloppy clothing or (*shudder*) SNEAKERS. They wore appropriate undergarments

I honestly had not thought until just now about how huge an influence that generation has had on me, and how much they influence my BTFM message. But here it is again: the world is sloppy and ugly enough. Our job is to show up on the battlefield of that ugliness and represent something fine and sane and whole, and beautiful and loving and stable. That means no matter how late we’re up revising the sermon and sobbing over the news, we do not take that mess into our communities with us. God loves and accepts us in our messiness, our inner chaos, and our elastic waistbands. But honeychildren, by the time we get to church, we need to be all put together, standing up straight and pretty, visually representing God’s faithfulness to the dignified, beautiful human children we can and shall be, by the grace of God.

Stand tall. Chin up, pray and breathe, and step away from the Christmas cookies.

PeaceBang loves y’all.