DOZ Issue 35 September 2018 - Page 27

carry my laptop, keyboard and other accessories when I realized the cord would not pull lose from its enclosure. As I pulled and tugged at the odd shaped connector at the end of the cord and the Velcro loop that had it securely fastened, I was perplexed at why I couldn’t remove it until closer examination revealed there was a much smaller Velcro loop within the one I had been trying to free the odd shaped connector – frustrated, I murmured audibly, “How in the world did you get in there?” Suddenly, the light bulb went off. Isn’t that the way life is? Sometimes on my Christian walk, I find myself ensnared by something that started out so small, then mushroomed into something much larger than I could have ever imagined. Case in point, my youngest son and his fiancée were recently married. They were engaged for over a year and his fiancée and her mother were busy making plans for the wedding. In our culture, it is generally accepted that the wedding is planned by the bride’s family, which usually means the bride and her mother (when the mother is present in her life). So, I bowed out gracefully from the start, completely removed from the process and only occasionally asking how things were going. As we neared the wedding date, though, I realized I was running short of time to get a mother of the groom dress, which I thought was inconsequential and would take little effort. So, on a Saturday morning I set out to find a dress, but quickly discovered it wasn’t going to be easy. I learned many of the bridal shops and department stores no longer carry “mother of the bride/groom” dresses in stock. By now, they said it was too late to order a Mother of the groom dress and many of those online that I liked were well beyond my budget. I was exasperated with the realization I should have begun sooner. To make matters worse, I was chastised by a wedding consultant at an upscale store after I commented for the humpteenth time that day, “I’m only the mother of the groom”. She admonished me for downplaying my role and assured me that the dress of the mother of the groom was also important and that I shouldn’t be dismissive of myself, my role or the dress I would purchase. Well, I didn’t want to be an embarrassment to my son, or myself for that matter. So, with this surprise revelation from “the wedding expert”, I selected 4 or 5 possibilities from off the rack. I texted pictures to my husband and son for thumbs up or thumbs down. They were quick to eliminate the first and gave a lukewarm endorsement to the others. Finally, I tried on the last dress, which looked less promising on the hanger, but I had taken into the dressing room only because it was my size. You know how it is, when you’re feeling desperate, you’re willing to entertain any possibility. To my surprise, it was nearly a perfect fit—except for the extra girth around my middle and protruding stomach, confirming there was still much work to be done in that area before the wedding day. So, I purchased two dresses, the one that was now showing potential and another that had a more matronly look, but was too tight in the upper back, shoulders and bust—and unfortunately was made in a fabric that wasn’t forgiving. I decided to purchase it anyway thinking if I lost 10 lbs, maybe I could make it work. I wasn’t thrilled with the color, but decided worst case scenario, I could try holding my breath in as much possible for a few hours, and hopefully I wouldn’t rip the seams. With my purchase completed, I took both dresses home for my husband and son to get a better look. They liked the one that showed promise. My husband really liked it because it was more flattering. With the I wasn’t thrilled with the color, but decided worst case scenario, I could try holding my breath in as much possible for a few hours, and hopefully I wouldn’t rip the seams. DOZ Magazine September 2018 27 «