The other day I put on my favorite dress. I haven’t been able to wear it for awhile, due to the fact that I was pregnant and then had a baby. And you must remember, most dresses are not conducive to nursing babies.
So I finally shook the dust off of it and slipped it over my head. It fit! Miracle. Wow, I felt almost glamorous. My husband gave me a double-take. This was going to be a good day.
As the day wore on, however, I found myself thinking of…myself. Yes, considering my dress, how neat it looked, how neat I looked. Every time I passed a mirror, I checked myself out. Still looking good.
Later on my husband and I loaded up all 7 children and drove to church for Stations of the Cross. My husband and two of the boys were serving, so I was in the pew with the remaining 5 children. Do I need to say, that I didn’t expect to enter deeply into this devotion?
After about the second or third station, I had to take the baby out into the narthex, where I put her on the floor, knelt down, and attempted to pray from the St. Alphonsus Liguori booklet. Then I was bombarded with thoughts of…my lovely dress.
This was obsessive. This was not good. All day my thoughts were of my dress and how I looked. What was going on?
Then a thought whispered to my soul, “Do you love this dress more than Me?”
Whoa. My heart pounded. What?
“Do you love this dress more than Me?”
I was holding that booklet and staring at a picture of Mary, holding Jesus. He was completely emaciated, and I realized how stupid and foolish I had been. How blind! Do I love this dress more than you, Jesus? No, of course not. Forgive me, Jesus. Forgive me. What shall I do?
But I knew what I had to do, even before I finished the thought. This dress must go. It will be a sacrifice in atonement for my pride and vanity.
And so that evening, I took my favorite dress off for the last time. It will be given away.