...all over each other's faces.
It seems throughout all of every bit of 2014 it was impossible to go a single week without hearing The Great Legging Debate. It's not so much a debate, really. More an assortment of essays detailing Here's What You, Virtuous Christian Women, Ought to Do. For yourselves, of course. And most importantly, for heaven's sake, for all those males in the world who posess two eyeballs with which to ogle you and minds with which to recall the exquisite shape of your utterly divine quadriceps. The rubbernecking alone is enough to sound the Warning Bell of Sin! Just think of all those crooked chiropractors making a buck off the poor Christian men of America who simply can not resist their very own impulses to crank those innocent craniums atop their unwilling necks in your direction.
Oh, my. The shame of it all.
I get it. I really do. In our house we have what I feel are some pretty stringent modesty guidelines we like to follow too. Because they fall within our level of comfort and peacefulness and self respect. Leggings just doesn't happen to be one of them. I mean, we do wear shorts in the summer. Like the kind that show an actual bare leg. Oy. The disgrace.
It reminds me so much of when I was a younger mom and every October would incite virtual internet riots over The Most Crucial Question: To trick or treat, or not to trick or treat? Which reminds me of one December when my ladies Bible group sparked a lively discussion about what all the good parents do with regard to Santa. Which reminds me of all those blog posts I read telling me I should not read Fifty Shades of Grey which only made me want to read Fifty Shades of Grey all the more because my spirit, it tends to be rebellious. Which reminds me of when we got into that huge back and forth argument over fasting. Which reminds me of when the topic of rated R movies and how much wine is too much wine was passed around as fodder capable of terminating otherwise wonderful friendships.
Surely this is the stuff that makes God Himself throw back a pitcher of suds every time he plays Thunder Bowling.
The funny thing is, Nov. 1st, no one aside from your dentist really cares all that much whether or not you allowed your children to participate in Halloween festivities. And Santa can come devour your milk and cookies or Santa can refrain his jolly self from your hot chimney, and it basically doesn't matter in The Big Scheme of Things. And a person can fast the days away and another person can fast not a single day and one can watch a rated R movie with a glass of wine and one can stick to G movies with a cup of scandalously hot tea and we can all still be friends.
Personally, if you read Fifty Shades, I'm not mad at ya. And if you didn't I'm not more impressed with you.
We, dear Christians, have this tendency toward eating each other alive. For breakfast. Then for lunch. Then for snack. Appetizers. And dinner too. I have to wonder, is this the kind of thing that causes outsiders to roll their eyes and chuckle at us, laughing us followers of Jesus, off into oblivion because we are so out of touch with The Real Issues of The Day? Stuff that really does matter. Like, human decency and the ability for all people to have what they require to pursue a life of liberty. Do they think we would rather type one another a formidable list of Should Nots than spend time doing something truly radical on our Should List? I hope not.
To me, it all seems a great matter of personal conviction, best left to the person with the conviction and less to be scattered abroad for all to condemn. Remember, happy is the (wo)man who does not condemn (her)himself in the thing which (s)he allows. Where was it I read that, again? Gosh, I forget. Somewhere celestial, I bet.
I mean, surely there are bigger fish to fry than current fashion trends which will soon be forgotten...until 20 years from now when they come back around. At which time we will be a bunch of old ladies anyway.
Wearing polyester pants with elastic waistbands, every single last one of us...
Me in my leggings after a little walk in the snow today. The ones I also wore to Sam's to buy $456 worth of groceries. And to the liquor store for a 6 pack of beer for the man of the house and a bottle moscato for the lady. We might drink them while watching something rated R. Not that I'm judging myself.