A Zipper in the Back of Your Dress

Just a few weeks ago, I hustled about my apartment on a Saturday morning, getting dressed and all primped up. This was a special morning, the morning I would graduate with my Master's degree. And my mom, dad and grandma had traveled all the way from Arizona to celebrate with me - because they're the best.

I had the perfect, I do repeat perfect dress for the occasion. And, as I slipped into and turned for my mom to zip me up, I had to laugh at how easy that was.

Since I've lived alone, some of the very simple things in life present themselves as obstacles: unlocking the door while balancing an excessive load from Wal Mart, assembling awkward furniture which requires a reader of instructions and a doer of said instructions, hanging pictures without someone to stand back and say, "left side a little lower," folding large sheets, the one-time emergency (because I'm much wiser, now) of being stranded without necessary paper in the bathroom. And definitely, most definitely, wearing any fabulous dress which zips from your backside to your neck.

Shopping has changed for me; I'm inclined to buy things that zip on the side. ("Little help here!" is not quite as effective if you must announce it after your arrive somewhere. And, come to think of it, neither is, "Does this look ok?" What do I expect someone to say, "No. Not at all. My God, Amanda, did you dress in the dark???" Thank GOD for camera phones - typically I can snap a pic and send it to a trusted wardrobe consultant.)

But, in terms of life and love, this battle of the zipper has lent itself to a couple, very practical lessons.

I'm now very cautious about getting myself into things that will be difficult to get out of.

I've learned there are some things that I can easily put on - airs and attitudes, pretenses and facades. And I can wear them with style in front of a crowd. They look beautiful when combined with the right heels and complimenting jewelry. They're palatable and pleasing to people who don't really know me. But they're not...me. And when I try to move and be who I am while wearing them, they constrict me. They contort my identity until I don't recognize myself. And when I try to take them off, it's a lot more difficult than putting them on.

When I walk in the door at night, I don't want the love of my life to look at me as if He doesn't recognize me. I don't want layers of people-pleasing to have to be removed before I can really commune with Him. In my life with Christ, I'm now reluctant to put on anything that I must come home and say, "Lord, please help me get undone..."

I want to be who I am in Him no matter where I may be. No matter who is asking for my attention. No matter what I feel I need to be in any situation. When I close the door behind me every evening, I want to be myself. Maybe more relaxed. Maybe able to say more than I can to anybody else. But I don't want to be wearing any pretenses for Him to help me out of. It's an idealistic goal, I'm aware. But I feel this may be what it means to be real...

Sara Groves says it way better than I could hope to:

Undone:
Baby, Can you help me get undone
The party is over
And their hearts were won
There’s a zipper in the back
But I can’t reach it on my own
And I am dying
To get out of this so...

Baby, Will you help me get undone
I don’t even remember
How I got this on
I started out pretending
Now I don’t recognize myself
And I could use a little help

You have no pretenses
All your walls are fences
I can see right through
You have no two faces
You know where our place is
And that's why I need you