Little black dress

Renae Brumbaugh Green

-- Coffee Talk --

 

I’ve never been known for my athletic prowess.

 

But that didn’t stop me from helping Superman on one of his summer landscaping jobs. His client (my mother) asked him to build a high retaining wall and bricked-in flowerbeds. That meant lots of brick hauling, and lots of shoveling dirt.

 

I’ve decided I don’t care for dirt shoveling.

 

But I did it anyway. Not because I’m particularly good at it. I moved around a teaspoonful at a time which, added to the weight of the shovel, was about all I could handle.

 

I didn’t do it because it was my own dear mother’s flowerbed, though that would have been a good reason. But while shoveling dirt in hundred-degree-weather, I wasn’t feeling particularly altruistic.

 

No. I did it because I’m vain. I’m not too proud to admit it.

 

You see, a few years ago, I lost about fifteen pounds. And I bought a sweet little black dress, even though I didn’t have a place to wear it. I bought it because it was on sale, and because it looked great on me.

 

And then I gained five pounds back.

 

And soon it was ten.

 

Now I’m about twelve pounds up, and I can’t even zip the thing. And it still has the tags on it.

 

So with every shovelful of dirt, I was thinking, Little Black Dress. Little Black Dress.

 

I don’t care for hauling bricks, either. But at least for that part, we got an assembly line going, and it didn’t take long until we could see progress.

 

Little Black Dress. Each and every brick . . . Little Black Dress.

 

I lost three pounds the week of that project.

 

I still have nearly ten pounds to go. And it feels like it’s coming off in teaspoonsful instead of pounds. But like that brick wall, if I just keep going, brick by brick and pound by pound, the weight will come off. I’ll bet by summer’s end, I’ll be pretty close to wearing that little black dress to my high school reunion. It’s all about the dress, baby.

 

Sometimes I feel like I’ve gained a lot of unwanted stuff in my spirit, as well. And while I want to show off the beautiful soul God meant me to be, there’s a bunch of blubbery sin-cellulite blocking the view. I try to put on the royal robes of kindness, gentleness and love, but when I’m hanging on to anger and bitterness, the zipper just doesn’t zip. When I try to place peace and joy on top of gossip and pettiness, the seams rip.

 

It’s hard labor, releasing those unwanted attitudes from my life. But while I’m sweating and panting and doing the difficult work of getting my spirit in shape, I keep reminding myself of how great my soul will look, if I just don’t give up.

 

“I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus,” Philippians 3:14.