The title of my latest WIWW post is “maroon shirt and old jeans.” And by old, I mean oooold. They are hand-me-downs from my sister. She got them in college, which she attended right after high school. And…my sis Rachel just turned 33. I’ve had them for a couple years. If these jeans were human, they’d be in the midst of adolescence and begging to learn to drive. The seat of these jeans is worn so thin; “threadbare” is an apt description for them. I keep waiting for the day when I sit down and hear riiiip.
I had that experience once during college. I’d bought a pair of Chic jeans (remember that brand?) for $1 at a yard sale held at an abandoned gas station during my final year of high school. One spring day not long before I graduated from college, I sat down on my apartment floor while wearing those jeans–and heard that fateful ripping sound. How thankful I was to have been at home when it happened.
But this cast-off pair of jeans didn’t cost me $1–they came to me completely free, thanks to my sister’s generosity. The shirt arrived in a box full of treats from a friend and ministry supporter of ours in Texas. Vivian sent us a multitude of goodies, some of which have helped support our Women of Vision efforts. And some of these hand-me-downs found a home in my closet. The shoes (which you can’t see) are also hand-me-downs from sister Rachel. The bracelet I’m wearing is a gift from my friend Lynn, who had it personalized just for me.
And, believe it or not, the hair clip I’m wearing (also not seen) is second hand. The boys found it for me loose somewhere–a park, maybe? The entire ensemble: second hand, apart from the bracelet. And shot on location in our illustrious front yard.
While we’re at it, below is just a little bonus: an ode to joy, if you will (although not the famous one). I think–if we pay close attention–we all have heaps of best days of our lives. I keep thinking about one of those from this past summer; it was ridiculously hot, but the boys and I were outside. I had pulled a chair into the shade and was reading. Garfield was hammering nails into boards, and Woodrow was whittling on a stick. Nothing particularly extraordinary about the day, but that outdoor moment remains so sweetly etched into my mind.
Sometimes the best days are the mundane ones. And sometimes the best jeans are the most worn, threadbare, and ready-to-rip ones.