You know that adorable dress you got for your cousin’s wedding with the darling scoop neck and empire waist? And how, when you wore it to church one Sunday with a cardigan and boots you realized during a meeting that you were engaging in a Festival of Inappropriate Sharing every time you leaned forward? And you went home and thought, gee, the usual silk or chiffon scarf or lightweight pashmina thing would just cover too much of the dress and add unnecessary layers and poufage — what I need is a little modesty scarf like Elz Curtiss mentioned one time?

Well, that’s where I’m at right now. I have so many tops and dresses that are just a WEE bit too low-cut and because I have a very short neck, I look terrible in all the groovy, fashionable scarves out there (although I love to wear them in my hair). As I get older I find that I want to cover up more. It’s not just about cleavage, it’s about catching drafts, not wanting to expose my neck and chest to the sun, and other middle-aged concerns. The skin on my chest also tends to be pink and blotchy and I don’t like that.

Look here at my girl Mary Wollstonecraft. I love, love, love her. She was super intense and neurotic and made terrible romantic choices and was a brilliant feminist and fierce and rad, and every one of you should know her work, A Vindication of the Rights Of Women (especially if you think feminism is a 20th century phenomenon).

Is she not a FANTASTIC crone goddess there (although younger than she looks — she had a rough life)?

Here she is wearing the sort of modesty scarf that I seek but can’t seem to find:

I need one in ivory/white and black. It needs to be streamlined so as not to add too much bulk, and I need to be able to pin it into my upper-body unmentionables. Mary’s is far more floofy than I would want or need, but I love hers anyway.

Silky fabrics won’t do, as they just slip everywhere. Cotton might work if it wasn’t too flimsy, and chiffon itches me. I just want the simplest strip of fabric I can cross over and pin down.

I just know you’ll have some ideas.

I’m almost done preparing for tomorrow’s service, staring at the clock and realizing that it’s not actually 7pm, it’s actually EIGHT. Daylight Savings Time!

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The president even upstaged himself a little bit during his concluding remarks by gently banging the podium every time he folded his hands, which tended to be after every rhetorical point. For awhile, he got into a hypnotic kind of call-and-response rhythm with his bangs, which became more emphatic as he neared his conclusion. I almost wondered if it was an intentional rhetorical device, but I highly doubt it.

My point, chickadees, is that no matter how long you are up on that dais listening to someone speak or preach, be very aware that you are just as much under public scrutiny as is the speaker, and even perhaps more so. Be aware, be still (no leg jiggling, no eye rolling, no smirking, no frowny face, no overly-vigorous nodding), sit up straight and put on your best game face. If you don’t know what your best game face is, work on it in the mirror until you find it.*

(Kudos to Speaker Pelosi’s make-up and hair people, and to Joe Biden’s tooth-whitener!)

*PeaceBang is TERRIBLE at following this advice, by the way. She is working on it. She tends toward vigorous nodding, “insider” smiling (althoug not smirking) and “mmm-hmm”ing and “amen-ing” (which is fine in moderation).

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I sat at this meeting at this minister, who sat with her legs crossed, displaying a wide expanse of thigh to everyone in the room.

Just horrifying. SO, so wrong. I kind of gave her a disapproving look once or twice when she would cross her legs, but to no avail. I mean, I visibly winced. I wanted to say, “Dear colleague! No one needs to know quite that much about your thighs. Please stop inflicting them on us.”

By the way, this has nothing to do with the relative niceness of anyone’s thighs. It’s about propriety, not aesthetics.

Don’t let that be you, mon pidgies. Boys, you’re not exempt, y’know. No one wants to see your hamhocks hanging out of floppy shorts, either.

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Dear Peacebang,

I like to bike to work since it saves on carbon. I always change soon after I get to work, but obviously sometimes I run into congregants or staff in the hall on the way to the shower so I don’t want to wear the bike shorts and tank top I wear when I go cycling on the weekends.

Could you suggest a biking outfit that will let me be both environmentally and professionally appropriate? Love your blog!

A (male) reader

As I was thinking about how to answer (we did a big post on women biking a few weeks ago, but I didn’t say anything at the time about guys on bikes – my bad), I received this anonymous comment from a lay person:

Not wearing your skintight bicycling outfit where your congregants can see you and if you must bike to work, wearing something more sedate and saving the body hugging little outfit* for when you’re not at church might seem like an obvious thing, but it’s not an obvious thing to all ministers.

*If you’re riding for exercise, why the body hugging little outfit? Shouldn’t the wind drag produced by a regular t-shirt and shorts just add to the exercise and thus be superior for your purpose? Either way, I really don’t want to know the exact shape of my minister’s [rear end].

And I do.

Sigh.

I don’t think PeaceBang really needs to respond to this, does she? She just needs to let all of her colleagues know that at least one church member out there is disturbed by the sight of her minister’s butt in spandex.

It doesn’t matter how fit you are.
No one, but no one, should arrive at the office in spandex bike shorts.

I am reminded of the conference I attended a few years back, where a male colleague wore a skin-tight shirt of some unnatural fiber. I could see his nipple piercing.

Need I say…!??

Saints preserve us. File this under “TMI.” WAY TMI.*

(Too Much Information)

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Ouch.

Clergy, please be incredibly careful when and where you pay technique compliments to another colleague. For one thing, your colleague may have been quite emotionally involved with the rite of passage they have just observed, in which case it is far more thoughtful to say simply, “I think you did a lovely job today. And I’m sorry for this loss to your congregation” than to high-five them for their great job. If you want to write your colleague an admiring note later about how they aced the prayer or whatever, that would be nice and I’m sure they would appreciate it. However, PeaceBang thinks that there is nothing tackier than clergy congratulating each other for their awesome “performance” after a religious service. Of course we do it, but please, please… do it in private or over the phone the next day. Lay people should never, ever overhear ministers doing a post-mortem– however positive– of a worship service they have just participated in. Keep the shop talk out of the church. Or if you must exude your praise, do it like the old pros do it — when no laypeople are around, or briefly and tactfully.

We all love praise, but there’s a time and a place. And that time and place is way out of earshot of the grieving, please.

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I start student ministry this Sunday and am wondering if you could make some recommendations on what kinds of outfits would be appropriate. I am, in part, thinking about the reality that the minister (female) will be robed, and I will not. I am inclined to wear black, but don’t want to look like the student undertaker. I am a plus-sized gal. I worry about wearing a skirt or dress and having my pudgy knees on display all through the service as I will be sitting in a chair without the benefit of a desk with a vanity panel. Black shirt dress and black tights and black mary janes makes me worry about looking like Goth Geezer… I like color (but not busy patterns – just solid) – purple, teal, fuscia, orange, lime green – but how to wear them appropriately? I don’t want to look like the Harvest Festival display in the chancel…

Any suggestions???

Bounteous gratitude!

First of all, Cookie, did you check the archives under Seminarians? If not, do! I’m sure there are conversations in there that might be of interest to ya.

Second of all, darling, I think I can make this easy for you. Create a uniform.
1. mid-calf length skirt in a dark neutral;
2. Natural hose with a taupe pump or boots (if it gets cold where you are, swap for an opaque tight in the winter);
3. Sleeveless shell (nothing with straps) with good coverage in a nice fabric with a bit of spandex in it for shape;
4. Beautiful, perfectly ironed blouse in a lovely, rich color and fabric (silk, perhaps) worn open over the shell (inothing floppy or over-sized);
5. Signature silk scarf in not-busy design worn open around the neck to suggest a stole;
6. Classic earrings;
7. Hair and make-up beautifully done.

Voila!
If you start with this basic uniform, you can’t go wrong. Choose colors that both work well in your chancel and that flatter your coloring.
Do not feel that you have to be creative and different with your attire; you are a student intern and it’s far more important for you to look polished and appropriate.

Do not wear slacks.

Try to find skirts that have the coverage you need but that fit you. This can be a challenge for plus-sized gals, since many skirts designed for us veer into Gypsy Mother territory with terrible jaggedy hems and tons of fabric that drown us alive. AVOID! Your skirts should have a zipper and button closure or else look like they could. They should have a waistline so you can tuck the sleeveless shell in neatly.

You need not wear the scarf every Sunday — you may choose to wear a pretty, bold necklace instead or something different. I just wanted to give you a basic ensemble to start with.

A nice, fitted jacket is also good — just be sure to sit in it to assure that buttons aren’t gapping, etc.

DO take a moment to gracefully pull down the hem of your blazer and to smooth your skirt under your bottom as you settle yourself into your chair on the chancel. Sit up straight and do not cross your legs. Keep your hands in your lap and your neck up, and smile as you pay careful attention to what is being said and done during the service. So many ministers — student interns by no means the worst offenders! — seem for all the world as though they don’t have the time of day for church unless they’re the ones speaking in the pulpit. PeaceBang, who has no poker face at all sometimes, has a bad habit of over-reacting facially to other speakers (laughing too hard, smiling too broadly, nodding, weeping, etc.), which is also potentially distracting and egotistical (although it may seem supportive and engaged, it can also communicate, “This is all about ME!”). Become familiar with your own Gracious Face and use that sucker.

Good luck, Cookie! I hope this is a help!

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This is really wonderful; great advice, and great sharing of experiences of presiding at services that are so often fraught with much emotion, both happy, and well, not so happy.

Might I also add what I’ve found to be an issue in many wedding ceremonies; the photographers. Now, I understand that the job is not easy, but I have to say that I have witnessed countless intrusive, disruptive behaviors by photographers, even though I always plead with them ahead of time to be respectful of the service, but I get the sense that many do not even know what a respectful distance or behavior is under these circumstances…is this the paparazzi effect in our culture?:)

I feel at this point that I literally need to walk them over to particular spots in the church, far away from the chancel, and state: “You can come no closer than this.”

Some examples, which have happened to me:
1) On a number of occasions, I’ve seen photographers literally leap into the aisle of the church during the ceremony to get “close ups” of the wedding party/family/etc., interrupting the procession and the service. (Once or twice, huge flashbulbs with jarring flashes were used…can you say spots in your eyes during the service???)
2) I literally had a photographer elbow me (as the officiant) to push me aside to get a shot of the bride processing up the aisle (??)…a withering sideways glance at her made her back off a little, but not much.

After having spoken to photographer friends, I have been told that nowadays, a good telephoto lens will get good closeups from pretty much anywhere in most churches, and huge flashbulbs are also not necessary.

Anybody else have similar experiences? How do you handle this?

[You've got absolutely the right idea, Tom: introduce yourself, ask them for their card,* make pleasantries, feel them out, then show them where they can set up, walk them through the ceremony and tell them where they can get some good shots (they'll appreciate it) and tell them exactly when they should not be shooting near you or at all (the prayer, for example). Most photogs are great but some are atrociously insensitive boobs. I had one photographer literally SLIDE ACROSS THE CHANCEL on his side, like a baseball player, snapping away during the vows. I stopped the service, gave him a withering look and when he didn't get up from the floor I said, "Please, Sir, people will think you're trying to shoot up the bridesmaids' dresses." He got up and moved, the crowd laughed their heads off, we began the vows again, and I ripped his head off after the service. I told him that if he wanted to play Wartime Photographer like an idiot he could bloody well do it somewhere other than the church. "What were you going for?" I bellowed. "The Up-the-Nostrils angle?" - PB]

Given the tendency for guests to become distracting photographers themselves, I begin every christening and wedding with something like these words in addition to the Words of Welcome and Call to Celebration,

“I invite you now to silence your cell phones, put away your cameras and let the professional photographer do his/her job, and to be fully present for (name of the couple or baby and family) as we celebrate this joyous and sacred occasion.”

Some diehards will still snap away, but they’ll probably turn off their flash, for one, and two, lots of people will thank you for giving them permission to put away the videocam and pay attention to the ceremony.

Do ask the couple or the family to send you a photo from the ceremony: it’s an absolutely wonderful thing on a dreary day to take out that file of photos of these rites of passage and to see the wonders of aging over the years!!

*If they’re good and you work well with them you can refer them to other people. If they’re bad and rude, you’ll have their name on file.
** Please do not ask the photographer for his or her phone number and a date at this time. That’s inappropriate. The time to do that would be after the service, and only if the photographer seems to be lingering over his or her lenses and equipment and is obviously flirting.

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Erika writes in with this doozy of a comment, just CHOCK full of hard-earned wisdom:

This topic is as juicy as a summer peach, PB! I don’t dare begin share horror stories, lest I never stop. However, having received more than my share of wedding battle scars, here are 3 of my personal “musts,” which I make clear to couples in a very gentle, pastoral, steel-fisted kind of way as soon as my services are procured:

1. I receive half of the professional honorarium up front, “to hold the date on my calendar,” even if we’re 6 months from the wedding. (Thank you, Silicon Valley engineer and his fiancee who didn’t speak English, for teaching me that by calling off the wedding after the rehearsal dinner.)

2. If the couple has engaged the services of a wedding planner or coordinator (and *do not* get me started there….), I require the couple to communicate to her that she will not have a role in the wedding rehearsal. The minister leads the wedding rehearsal. (Thank you, horrible, nasty lady in Napa, for teaching me that by screaming at me in front of everyone because you wanted to send the ring bearer down the aisle first.)

3. If anyone in the wedding party shows signs that they’re under the influence of alcohol/drugs when I arrive at the ceremony, I will wish the couple well and leave the premises without conducting the ceremony — AND: see Rule #1! (Thank you, Saratoga couple, for teaching me that on an extremely hot summer day when you plied everyone with bubbly for an hour before I showed up.)

True, true, right, right, and RIGHT. Let PeaceBang contribute her favorite Wedding Planner story:

It was a hot day in Washington, DC. I drove into the city (45 minutes) to the Swanky Hotel to lead the rehearsal.
Pause here to note, kittens, that YOU LEAD THE REHEARSAL. This is a religious ceremony and you lead it. The Wedding Coordinator does not lead it. The Mother of the Bride or Groom does not lead it. The retired priest uncle does not lead it. The rehearsal does not start when someone else starts it. The rehearsal is not over when someone decides that it’s over (even if dinner reservations loom). You are running this event. Gird your loins before you go in, study your Jerome Robbins, Harold Prince, Bob Fosse or Michael Bennett moves, do whatever it takes to bring out your most Large-And-In-Charge persona and do NOT be steamrolled. Got it? Be there ON TIME. Be prepared to the last detail. If grandma complains that you have the bride on the right and the groom on the left (or vice versa) and she’s NEVER SEEN IT DONE THAT WAY, reply with a smile that you’d be happy to switch the couple around if she’d like to hear you call the groom “Susan” throughout the entire service. Do NOT engage with control freaks. Assign bodyguards to highly anxious, intrusive types and ask them to keep Aunt Dottie or Uncle Vern at the back of the church or at the bar until you’re through with the rehearsal. You are not there to please everybody. Don’t try.

Back to Washington, DC: Wedding Coordinator hovered with clipboard, trying to round up the wedding party, which I appreciated. Then, as I stood up front to introduce myself and begin the rehearsal, WC began barking out her orders regarding who would stand where, in what order attendants would enter, etc. I had already instructed the bride to let the WC know that the ceremony would be entirely my concern and that she would be most helpful in a runner/stage manager function. Bride looked non-plussed as WC soldiered on, obviously determined to consign me to a purely ornamental role.

I don’t. think. so.

I stepped to Wedding Coordinator and put my hand on her clipboard. “Thank you, Janice, but I’ll take it from here,” said I. Janice looked daggers at me. Girl was TERRITORIAL! Glaring at me and clearly plotting her next move, she moved a bit to my right.

I introduced myself to the group to begin my spiel. “Thank you so much for being here. I’m Victoria Weinstein and I’ll be officiating at the service tomorrow. I know you all have a dinner in an hour, so my job is to make sure that you all know exactly what you’re doing tomorrow, how and where, so that you can really be present for the moment and not worry about when you enter, where you stand to read, or any other detail. A wedding is a religious ceremony but it does have more than a bit of stagecraft to it, so I’m going to ask for your rapt attention for the next 45 minutes or so so that tomorrow will be as enjoyable as possible. A wedding isn’t a show, so we never expect things to run perfectly, but we do want to prepare as well as we can. So for now, if you could turn off your cell phones, hang in there with me as we go through the service, and make sure to ask any questions that occur to you — there are no stupid questions! — we’ll be able to get through this more quickly and get right to the fun part of the evening.”

Wedding Coordinator steps in front of me. “Thank you, Reverend. Now, if you can all please line up according to…”

Me, sotto voce, to Janice. “Janice, may I see you for a moment over here?”
To wedding party: “We’ll be right back!”

Over by some rose bushes, this is what I said to Janice:
“I want you to listen to me and listen closely. I don’t know what your deal is, or what kind of training you received, or how you wound up under the impression that it’s your job to run a wedding rehearsal that’s being officiated by a clergyperson. But let me make this clear: even if you did think it was your job to run this rehearsal — even after being informed that it was not — you should always speak privately with the officiant to make sure that’s the case instead of marching around barking orders and shoving them out of the way. I don’t have time to train you or to collaborate with you. I don’t like your attitude and I don’t get your style. So here’s your choice: either you make yourself scarce right now or I am getting in my car and driving back up to Columbia. I will leave it to you and your clipboard to explain to the couple and to their guests why I have gone home for the weekend and you will be conducting the service. Oh, and good luck getting certified to solemnize a wedding in the District of Columbia. You’ll need a certificate of ordination, a clergy witness to go with you to the office and vouch for you, and a check for $30. I hope that helps you make your decision. People are waiting, so make it snappy.”

The next morning, I bid Janice a good morning and told her that it would be extremely helpful if she would do three things to help the wedding ceremony flow more smoothly. She graciously agreed, did those things very well, and I can only hope that she had a long and successful career as a Wedding Coordinator.

The service was completely ruined after all because of the incessant screaming of a 3-year old niece of the bride. I considered stopping the ceremony so that the parents could take the demonic tot off the premises but I thought at the time that if the family chose not to manage the situation themselves, I shouldn’t try to. I had already been warned that super-permissive parents from Europe were bringing their indulged kinder to the service and that they were likely to be disruptive, but I had no idea how much.
I regret my decision now. If the same thing happened today I would stop the ceremony, look directly at the parents (who were absolutely grinningly immune to the looks of horror that were coming at them, oblivious to my stumbling over words because I literally couldn’t hear myself speak, and blind to the bride’s angry flush under her floral wreath) and say, “It seems as though Little Mathilda is having a difficult time today! Maybe she would be more comfortable taking a supervised walk down there by the fountain. Mathilda, would you like that?” Smile and hold until someone takes action. Prepare to hold big, cheery, fake smile for a good two to three minutes. Resume ceremony when child is elsewhere by saying, “Now, dearly beloved, where were we?”
Wait for laughter to break the tension, and possible applause. Believe me, you’ll get both.

Sometimes we do have to bring on a little bit of spiritual karate, gang. This ain’t all bunnies and kitties.

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This letter comes from a colleague who doesn’t wish to shock or offend in her frank mention of bodily realities such as the fact that some of our thighs chafe in hot weather or that we ladies do sweat (we don’t just “glisten”). Listen up for more Straight Dope from the wise L., who writes,

After a trip to [hot weather destination], and [second hot weather destination], and hiking in the mountains of [third hot weather destination], and most importantly, breaking some new shoes in, on a “pulpit” weekend, I think I can now recommend a blister and chafing – avoiding kit.

It would include:

* Band-Aid Friction Block Stick (I’ve also heard “Body Glide” is good, but couldn’t find it.) Use anywhere you think shoes will rub.

* Moleskin (and a teeny pair of scissors). At the first hint of rubbing or a blister, cut it to shape and apply (already has adhesive on one side).

* Coolmax (or similar) socks, for wearing with boots where the socks won’t show. My marathon-running, Grand Canyon-hiking sister in law taught me this one. Avoid 100% cotton socks like the plague. You need WICKING socks.

* Spray antiperspirant. For – ahem – sweating/chafing from “the girls.” Lift up, spray. Fabulous for hot sweaty situations. That sounds inappropriate. I was thinking about outside weddings, interments, etc.
[Gotcha, sweetie. That's what I was thinking, too. - PB]

* Monistat Soothing Care Chafing Relief Powder Gel. I told you about this one before. I never tried it as a makeup primer, but it is SO fabulous on your thighs under a skirt! I have to admit, I had just gotten like Dolly Parton in “Steel Magnolias” –”These thighs haven’t gone out of the house without lycra on them since I was 14″ — not because of the jiggle, but the chafing. But this takes care of that. All over [hot weather destination] in a loose black skirt — no problems!

[When I have my own] minister’s office, I plan to have a bag of these items tucked in a drawer!

Dearest L.,
Thank you for providing these really useful tips. I am a little bit confused about the “wearing boots where the socks won’t show” detail — what do you mean? However, I am totally yes, ma’am, got it MA’AM about the WICKING SOCKS.

Do they still make spray anti-perspirant? Cripes, I haven’t purchased any for about 20 years now! Does anyone recommend a particular brand? Do we have to purchase carbon offsets to make up for the flurocarbons we’ll be releasing when we spray our entire torsos before summer weddings and funerals?

As for the Monistat Magical No-Rub Anti-Chafing Relief Chemical Compound, I don’t know how I’ll ever remember that name, but where the heck do you find it in the drug store?

Boy, today was a doozy. HOT, HOT, HOT! This advice comes just in time for next weekend’s big wedding in Newport, Rhode Island!

And from you to me, L., I don’t care if you call me Victoria or Vicki, just call me. And I was VERY happy to help your sweet husband pick out those pashmina shawls for your birthday.
Ain’t we got fun?

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Holy PJs, PeaceBang!

I made a recent trip to get some New Years goodies at the grocery store (this is part of my BTFM self-care routine I am following in 2009). What to my wondering eyes did see but a woman in Superman PJ bottoms. Alors, mon ami, she needs a PB intervention! My first thought: “Please, God: Not one of my clergywomen colleagues.
Please, God. Send the numinous in the New Year but this is not the Mysterium Tremenduum methinks we ought to project as people of God in front of God and everyone else.

My jaw dropped, and then picked up to see one pj leg inside a most frou-frou boot
and the other pj leg hanging wistfully outside the boot. The woman’s hairstyle was done by Jacques Le Bedhead. The coat over the PJs was attempting to cover a multitude of sins but alas! did not as it was bunching, bulging and not bewitching in the least.
At the grocery store, it is possible a meaningful pastoral conversation just might happen because it is the place to see and be seen by others other than by congregants on a Sunday morning.
Therefore, I check and re-check before leaving the house: 1. Hair 2. Makeup 3. Properly fitting clothes, appropriate to be seen in in public. 4. Outerwear which fits, is clean and presentable
5. Business cards
(You never know who you will run in to while grabbing that gruyere)

As far as PJs go, we can do much better at any price than Superman PJ bottoms, ladies – I like Karen Neuberger PJs and found an excellent sale at TJ Maxx recently.

What dost thou think, O Grand Poobah of Clerical Seemliness?

Dear Rev. Gruyere,
If our fashion criminal wasn’t a clergyperson (this isn’t clear from your letter), I simply assume she’s a sloppy person, blow her a kiss of peace, and go on my merry way. No one should be out and about in pajamas of any kind, of course. But people wear all kinds of atrocious things and we don’t worry about that here, because our mission is the de-frumpification of the clergy.

But your letter gives me a wonderful chance to confess a recent and appalling fashion crime of my own: in the midst of a terrible bout with the flu a few weeks ago I found myself at the dry cleaners in my pajama bottoms. Rev. Gruyere, I was just as much in shock discovering my bright red flannel jammie bottoms with black scottie dogs on them on my legs as you were seeing the Superman jammies on Ms. Bedhead in the grocery store. However, I realized in that moment that I was sicker than I thought and should probably get home and to bed stat. Which leads me to wonder if perhaps our sloppy shopper was also running a fever and was making a mad dash to the supermarket for some TheraFlu. ‘Tis the season, after all. But as I say, if she’s not a minister, she’s out of my jurisdiction.

If Ms. Superman Jammies was a clergy colleague, however, I do hope you stopped to say hello and to inquire after her well-being. If she was indeed ill or in crisis, she might tell you so, in which case you could offer to stop by with some chicken soup later. If she wasn’t ill, seeing you might cause her to realize that she was inappropriately dressed and should take more care with her appearance. That’s what we call a win-win.

When PeaceBang runs into someone fresh from the gym, gardening, hiking with the dog, washing the car or any other activity that leaves her looking particularly disheveled she likes to say, “Oops, you caught me! Please excuse my appearance!” One can overcome a sloppy appearance by acknowledging one’s own humanity and imperfections, taking on the dignity of ministerial presence, and moving on to a nice encounter from there. Of course I am rarely without lipstick and mascara for the very reason that I do not want to have to apologize for my appearance, but people appreciate it just the same, I imagine.

The day after Christmas, I was home and in a pajamas-type outfit (leggings and a big sweater, ratty hair, etc.) at 3 pm. I was exhausted and had planned to see no one that day. However, as the fates would have it, a knock came at my door. There, standing on the steps of the parsonage, was a local man I have become very fond of over the years through doing business with him. I thought my acquaintance had a quick question and that our interaction could take place in the doorway as I held my dog’s collar to keep him from bolting outside. He would never have to see my awful outfit.

No such luck. As it turns out, the unexpected visitor had lost a dear friend and was helping his friend’s family find a venue and officiant for the funeral. Well. So much for my modesty. In such cases you simply open the door and invite someone in. You don’t apologize for your appearance because you’re at home and have every right to look like a slob in your own home if you like. You simply smooth your hair, grab a shawl to wrap around your braless top half (I’m sorry, but it’s an important detail), pull up a chair in the messy dining room for your visitor, listen to his predicament and try to figure out a solution together.

My point is, dumplings, is that sometimes a person just needs you and they wouldn’t in a million years be able to remember that you were wearing something appropriate, inappropriate or anything at all. If you’re sweaty, smelly and standing there in a towel and someone needs you at a time of abject loss, stay put and listen. This isn’t about you right now. Hear them out, and only after you have offered a measure of comfort, consolation and an assurance that you’ll return in a jiff should you excuse yourself for a shower and change of clothes.

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