One Small Victory. . .

This was in response to my friend Zina's blog post ("Some Days You Feel Like Cinderella")earlier this week:

I could so completely relate to this post it was almost freaky. We were having a great Sunday morning, everyone was getting ready in good time–but me. I have a really dumb-looking sunburn on my face from being out Saturday without sunscreen (and with sunglasses), and I was feeling self-conscious. I too thought I’d like to bear my testimony, so that made me more self-conscious. I also had issues with panty hose–namely that I didn’t want to wear them, and I felt it was too warm to wear boots, but my bare legs are just a frightening sight, so I was trying to find a longer skirt, etc. etc. This process took a ridiculously LONG TIME, and I ended up just going with what I was wearing in the moment I decided I’d really pushed the limits of wardrobe reason. So, because I’d spent so long deciding what to wear, my hair was an unfortunate afterthought, and I hadn’t finished putting my makeup on. I tried to grab what I needed while the boys were getting in the car (Guy was already at church for a meeting), and my mascara was NO WHERE to be found (I still haven’t found it). I so wanted to just give it up and crawl back in bed, but you can’t do that when you’re the mom. I had determined that I would NOT be getting up in front of anyone, but I really felt like I wanted/needed to bear my testimony (primarily in light of our experiences with Mitchell this last month), and thinking about Mitchell put my morning in perspective. I swallowed my pride and got up in front of the congregation with sickly-white legs, an outfit I didn’t feel comfortable in, dirty hair pulled back in a barette and no mascara. So, not quite a Cinderella story, but for me it was an important victory over vanity and self-consciousness.