The Tulle Skirt

This post was written over the summer.  But yesterday I wore the tulle skirt and danced and was with my people and loved loved loved…

The day was spent by myself.  I had been depending entirely too much upon people and not on my God.  So He and I rolled out of camp bumping some Lumineers and headed southwest.   I was wandering and wondering around Prescott and it hit me that I needed something pretty and frivolous.  I needed a delight.  Downtown Prescott isn’t much but Harley Davidson stores and cowboy boots, so I pulled out and headed back north to Flagstaff.  I knew just the place.  I had been there once before and it was a store of delights.  All I had in mind were some pretty hair pins.  Something with a little sparkle.

But then there it was.  On the mannequin out front.  The lightest most perfect tulle skirt there ever was.  A pale blush color with satin trim at the waist.  The five layers of mere whispers of fabric came down just to the knees.  I wandered and wondered the store I picked up a few other skirts to try on, trying to talk myself out of the tulle.

Wandering and wondering that store, the lie that I would be ‘too much’ in the skirt but also at the same time ‘not enough’ started to claw at the door of my heart.  But the beauty and perfect delight of the skirt tugged as well.  I texted my girls asking them if it would be ‘too aggressive’ for the camp banquet dinner that night.  They said, “Not for you.”  They know me and could speak the truth of my value.  How could something so glorious and perfect and wonderfully made be ‘too much’?  They reminded me to delight in wonders and in myself.  The ember of ‘too much’ was extinguished with the truth of ‘perfectly complete creation’.

The skirt came home with me and so did some sparkly hairpins.

It was worn that evening in glorious joy and delight.  Childhood dreams of wearing tutus and princess skirts were fulfilled.  It was twirled and fluffed and delighted in.  I wore it again today with our staff polo for work and I never stopped loving it.  Many people commented on how well I pull off the “fancy first day” look every week and that “nobody else could rock that look on Day 1 except you, Ruthiey.”

When I changed out of it into my pjs for bed, I was a little sad that I had to take it off.  It’s a little silly, but the skirt had very quickly become very important.  Not just because it is a really great skirt, but because it reminded me of a known and knowing God who delights in how He has created me.