On Wearing White

As I stood in the bridal shop dressing room looking at my reflection, I had one of those rubber meets the road moments.  

As a bride “making herself ready” it was time to choose the dress I would wear as I walked down the aisle on the arm of my father.  The internal "Scarlet A" had long since been erased by my Heavenly Father and I was walking in freedom from shame and guilt.  My life had become filled with traveling and singing and I hardly had time to focus on planning my wedding.  Between tours I would go to a place of business armed with my dear father’s credit card and make a decision, knowing that the number I gave secured the appearance of flowers, food, and a photographer on the wedding day.  It was all quite simple.  

But here I was, looking at my reflection in the mirror. There were two dresses to choose from. One was a floor model, on sale for a pittance. It would need cleaning and mending because it had been  tried on and left behind over and over again in the search for something better.  It would have been fine after a bit of attention because it fit well and would be pretty once it was cleaned up.  

The other dress was satin, brand new, and priced quite a bit higher.  It would take a lot of confidence to buy that dress.  It was symbolic of something, fit for a princess.  Clean and white. 

Choosing to believe my earthly dad’s heart for me was where the rubber met the road that day. 

The dress hangs in my closet even now, a reminder that as a forgiven bride, I have value, I have been made whole, I am loved.  

What a beautiful reflection.