Cinderella

While my parents were out for Thanksgiving, my mom and I spied a cute wintry dress at a shop in South Philly.  It was two years too big and about $100 too expensive.  Looking at the dress and then at the price tag, my mom uttered the dangerous words: "You could make that."

And so we then hit up Fabric Row and perused until we found some tasteful and playful fabric that would fit for Christmas and also for weddings this spring.  I am determined to teach her from a young age that the "can't wear the same dress to multiple weddings" rule is one to be broken.

(And for all you who are impressed.  Don't be.  It took way too many I-should-be-sleeping hours and I had to undo and redo about half of the seams I had sewn.)

10 month olds are not so keen on dress fittings, so it's a little big, but I figured she would grow into and make use of it in the fall too.  Even better!

And then that moment happened.  That moment when hours of work went up in smoke.  Literally.  My love for the smells of Christmas blinded me to the foolishness of having candles near your work surface.  I carelessly moved the dress out of the way so I could get a piece of fabric for the jacket I was working on.

I can't remember the last time I cried that hard.  Pretty sure it was in high school.  Pretty sure it was a boy's fault.  Pretty sure I thought my life was over.

Man wisely did not take a photo of that, but here is a picture of baby "headdesk" to give you a sense of my sorrow. 

As I stared at the charred remains, Man and a good friend reminded me that there was much to be thankful for. Most immediate was that the dress was polyester and melted instead of actually flaming atop our wooden dining table.

There is also a bitter truth to the fact that the things of earth will not last, no matter how hard we work, and thus even as I began to salvage the dress, the burned scraps reminded me that this life is ephemeral and it's our eternity that ought to weigh more heavily on us.  Knowing my pride in my dress, God reminded me that his love and salvation are a smidge more important.


It would have been a shame to waste the fabric, the time and the love poured into this.  So the next 24 hours (with a break for the joyous occasion of two friends' wedding) were filled with planning, speedwalking around Joann's and, most importantly, Man lovingly keeping the squishy one entertained while I sat at the sewing machine and the cutting table.

Redemption is a beautiful thing.  I had mourned the demise of a dress, thinking it would never be as good as it had been.  And yet it ended up better. 

Man refers to it as the Cinderella dress now, as its destruction only lead to a more beautiful dress. 

Again, a certain someone was uncooperative when it came to modeling her cute new dress.  Very cooperative in ripping up the coupons, however.  Babies.