There wasn't anything out of the ordinary lined up for Good Friday. As usual, I had the service to attend at 5:30 pm and that - ladies and gentlemen - was the only highlight of that Friday. Now, it was the season of Lent and one has to behave and all that, but I don't quite understand from where I was attacked by this sudden spell of dressing up well for the service.
Usually, I just dump (and I know what I'm saying) anything dark, dismal, and dull on myself and walk off for the service. But this time, around three hours prior to 5:30, I began to sift through my wardrobe. I first decided to wear the dark blue satin shirt with the dark blue navy corduroys. the combination turned out to be so spectacularly engaging, everyone - me including - began to wonder whether the Lord would approve of this for a funeral-esque ceremony.
Now I would not want to displease the Lord! Heaven forbid! I have already a serpentine hitlist of people I have displeased here on Earth itself. And inviting a Celestial Being to that list would only complicate matters further. I switched to the white shirt. This was at 4:15.
The white shirt looked pale enough as if it had been in mourning. But it forgot to dust away the grease I had brushed into the other day at the bus stand. So, that went into the dirty-clothes basket. Time: 4:30.
"Will you hurry? The service's at 5:30."
"I know I know, but what can I do? I haven't a rag to wear."
"Well, you should have done all this clothes rehearsal the day before."
"Like you all did?"
"Well, yes, we did. See? We are almost ready." And that was quite true.
"That's not quite helping me!" I said truthfully, "What do I wear? What do I wear?"
"Wear that t-shirt there," suggested Mother helpfully.
"But that has red over it!"
"Where?"
"There there!" And I pointed it out to her.
"Oh that!," she said dismissively, "those are just a few stripes!"
"Few stripes?! Mother, they are red stripes!"
"So?"
"So? So what so?!No one wears red for such a service!"
"Oh who's to see?" she snapped, "And who's to check?"
My ears couldn't believe she actually said that.
"We never wear red for such a service!"
"Just wear it and come on now! Hurry!"
Evidently the Magna Carta for Good Friday had to be forgotten or else, we all would have been late.
And so that t-shirt got itself dumped on me.
Usually, I just dump (and I know what I'm saying) anything dark, dismal, and dull on myself and walk off for the service. But this time, around three hours prior to 5:30, I began to sift through my wardrobe. I first decided to wear the dark blue satin shirt with the dark blue navy corduroys. the combination turned out to be so spectacularly engaging, everyone - me including - began to wonder whether the Lord would approve of this for a funeral-esque ceremony.
Now I would not want to displease the Lord! Heaven forbid! I have already a serpentine hitlist of people I have displeased here on Earth itself. And inviting a Celestial Being to that list would only complicate matters further. I switched to the white shirt. This was at 4:15.
The white shirt looked pale enough as if it had been in mourning. But it forgot to dust away the grease I had brushed into the other day at the bus stand. So, that went into the dirty-clothes basket. Time: 4:30.
"Will you hurry? The service's at 5:30."
"I know I know, but what can I do? I haven't a rag to wear."
"Well, you should have done all this clothes rehearsal the day before."
"Like you all did?"
"Well, yes, we did. See? We are almost ready." And that was quite true.
"That's not quite helping me!" I said truthfully, "What do I wear? What do I wear?"
"Wear that t-shirt there," suggested Mother helpfully.
"But that has red over it!"
"Where?"
"There there!" And I pointed it out to her.
"Oh that!," she said dismissively, "those are just a few stripes!"
"Few stripes?! Mother, they are red stripes!"
"So?"
"So? So what so?!No one wears red for such a service!"
"Oh who's to see?" she snapped, "And who's to check?"
My ears couldn't believe she actually said that.
"We never wear red for such a service!"
"Just wear it and come on now! Hurry!"
Evidently the Magna Carta for Good Friday had to be forgotten or else, we all would have been late.
And so that t-shirt got itself dumped on me.
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