Between here and there

I recently visited a small thrift store on the outskirts of town. I had not intended to enter the shop — I was headed somewhere farther down the road. Yet, before I could overthink it, I found myself pushing an old grocery cart down an aisle lined with dresses, blazers, pants, and skirts.

I didn’t need anything: my closet was as small as my budget. Yet, something about the place felt more like an old bookstore than a retail shop. The garments held stories in their threads and frays. Pieces presented the personalities of the original owners — strangers to me — perhaps people who are no longer living.

I felt like an intruder in another’s memories as I held a powder blue dress, full-skirted with large patterned buttons on the bodice, a sweetheart neckline, and a lemon-yellow Swiss-dotted belt.

I allowed time to pass between here and there, imagining the shape of the woman who filled this dress. I could visualize her smile as she looked upon the man she loved, watching him watch her. Just the thought seemed to make the fabric feel warm to the touch.

As I stood there, my fingers brushed over the delicate fabric, tracing the intricate patterns and designs that adorned it. I couldn't resist the temptation to slide my hand down to the waist of the dress. As I closed my eyes, I imagined myself transported to a bygone era, where this dress would have been the height of fashion.

A melody began to play in my mind, one that seemed to be perfectly suited to the dress and the time period it belonged to. My body began to sway to the rhythm of the tune, lost in the moment and the beauty of the dress — lost in the exquisiteness of the stranger who must have worn this dress — the one I will never meet. And yet, for a moment, I felt like she and I were sharing the same smile. She had to have felt beautiful, I told myself. She just had to have felt lovely.

Feeling a bit foolish, I returned the dress to the rack and my cart to the line of wobbly-wheeled cohorts. I went about my way, leaving my imagination somewhere between here and there.

By nightfall, I had nearly forgotten about my afternoon detour as I settled into a comfy pair of pajamas. My feet felt cold on the tile, so I went into my closet to fetch a pair of socks. The space reminded me of the overcrowded aisle of the small thrift store. I searched for my favorite piece among my dresses, blazers, pants, and skirts.

Upon finding it, hidden in the back, I was almost giddy. You may think me even more foolish to admit this, but I had never worn this dress out of the house. I had no occasion or company to wear it with. And yet, it was my treasured dress. I can no longer fit into the dress — it is now too small — but the joy it holds is big enough to last my lifetime.

I had purchased the dress on a whim many years ago when I unexpectedly spotted a favorite store of mine. I knew I would not be able to afford whatever was in the store, yet that did not deter me from enjoying the experience of lingering among the fashions and fabrics. I felt like Angela Lansbury in the movie Mrs. 'Arris Goes to Paris. I was treated like a queen even though I knew my pocketbook resembled that of a charwoman.

I left that day with a dress. My dress. I did not care that I had nowhere to wear it: I knew it belonged to me when I felt its fabric against my skin. I recall three times I have worn the dress, each time alone: once to do the dishes, once to dance in the living room, and once to sip tea and read a book in my chair. And each time, I remember feeling absolutely beautiful. Just lovely.

I smiled, thinking perhaps one day someone would come upon this dress at a thrift shop and imagine the woman who owned it — the foolish girl who wore a smile bigger than the price tag of the dress.

I cannot help but think we are all connected, somewhere between here and there. Our lives are but a glimmer of time. But what an honor and privilege to live in our given time. To clothe ourselves in a manner that brings joy beyond what is fabricated.

“So, chosen by God for this new life of love, dress in the wardrobe God picked out for you: compassion, kindness, humility, quiet strength, discipline. Be even-tempered, content with second place, quick to forgive an offense. Forgive as quickly and completely as the Master forgave you. And regardless of what else you put on, wear love. It’s your basic, all-purpose garment. Never be without it,” (Colossians 3:12-14, MSG).