Sunday Clothes

Today is "Day 3" of my 30 pieces/6 months journey.

It is Sunday, and because of that, my clothes chose themselves: dress clergy shirt (with collar), black capris, lightweight black jacket, sandals. Though I have been a pastor for well over two decades now, I haven't really thought about wearing "Sunday clothes" for a long time, maybe even since my childhood. But that's what I did today: I wore my Sunday clothes for a warm season. I have indeed worn "Sunday clothes" for years, but I haven't thought about it in those terms.

When I was a child, growing up in rural Minnesota, Sunday clothes really were a "thing." We dressed up to go to church, even though I didn't like dresses at the time. We wore on Sunday what would otherwise be worn only on very special occasions. It was a marker in our lives that Sunday was different than other days, like using the good china for Sunday dinner - a meal that in rural Minnesota was, and still is, at noon.

My thoughts about "Sunday clothes" have put me in a reflective mood, thinking about that  place and the people who so significantly formed and shaped me. My early years of faith were nurtured in a rural country church, a white building on a hill, with a handful of faithful families. If I close my eyes, I can still vividly see it. I can smell its particular scent. I can hear its bell toll. I can see the families and where they all regularly sat. I can feel the smooth wood of the pews on my back. And it is good.

So many of the older and oldest generations are gone now, many of them having worn "Sunday clothes" every Sunday of their lives. I imagine now what I never thought of then: it was probably not an easy life for many, seeking to make a living in the era of the small family farm. But they worked hard, they most likely kept their struggles to themselves - I was too young to know of grown up struggles at the time - and on Sundays, they gathered together in their "Sunday clothes." And that too was good.

From that place and those people of "Sunday clothes" I learned I great deal, not the least of which is a spirit of perseverance. You keep going after the crop is hailed out. You believe in next year after a season of unfavorable prices. You know that spring will come after months of mountains of snow. Each day is another day forward, another day onward on this journey that takes us wherever it will.

Which brings me to yesterday's clothes -- long-sleeved t-shirt that says "onward, by all means," black shorts and sandals - a good thing to have worn on day 2. A good thing to remember at the start of another week - "onward, by all means." Onward, indeed.

Day 1

Khaki colored denim shorts
Black cotton clergy shirt
Jean jacket
Sandals

That's what I decided to wear on day one of "30 pieces of clothing for six months."

I found myself oddly excited as I woke up this morning. I've been thinking of this for several weeks now, and today I get to start this journey. Because it's a beautiful, sunny day in Northwest Indiana, I actually had more choices than I thought I might on this day. It was cool enough to wear a jacket this morning. That gave me choices I wasn't necessarily anticipating.  I was going to work, but it was going to be mostly an office day: no occasions where I had to be "in uniform," so I could wear my clergy shirt without its collar. It looks pretty much like any normal, sleeveless black t-shirt that way. And the sandals - well, I haven't worn socks for months, so they were an obvious choice.

As I got dressed this morning, I found myself all of a sudden thinking of the people of Iraq, especially those who have fled to the mountains with nothing but the clothes on their backs, seeking refuge. Seeking safety. Without planning to, my "getting dressed time" turned into a time of prayer for all of the displaced people of the world, all whose choices have been stripped away.

It seemed like a fitting way to begin.

A First World Reality

Today I am packing down - or giving away - all of the clothes that I will not be wearing for the next six months. There is much more to pack down than I would have imagined. Shorts I forgot I had. T-shirts I haven't worn for at least two years. Capris that I bought about this time a year ago, packed away for winter, and then, well, left packed away. Sweaters that I keep hanging on to year after year, because "next year I might want to wear them."

Before I decided to embark on my "30 Pieces of Clothing for Six Months" adventure, I had no idea how many items of clothing I really owned. I had no idea what really hangs in my closet or is stashed in the back or bottom of a dresser drawer.  It's humbling. Sobering. Definitely a first world reality.

I have also been surprised at how difficult it has been to choose 30 pieces of clothing. Six months will potentially cover all the seasonal changes in Indiana -- very hot weather to extremely cold. August 15 - February 15. Several times I have added and subtracted items. Just yesterday I found a pair of yoga pants that I forgot I had. Though I haven't worn them for six months, I decided "I really want them." But what would I take out?  A first world reality indeed.

I've also been asked some interesting questions as I am preparing for this adventure:

What happens if an item that is in my "30 pieces of clothing" gets torn, stained, or just plain wears out? Will I replace it?  At this point, my answer is "no." We'll see if I can stick to that when that day comes.

What about scarves? Do they count in the 30? I think they would, and though I have several scarves, I've never really worn them, so no scarves in this project.

What about borrowing?  Can I borrow to give variety and add to the 30?   Again, the answer is "no" -- on the "adding to," that is.  I do have one item in my 30 pieces of clothing that is not mine - a long-sleeved black turtle neck that belongs to my housemate. She is letting me borrow it, as long as she can borrow it back!

Why am I doing this? Lot's of reasons, reallly. Most importantly is that it seems like a good time in my life for reflection and a conisderation of what it means to be a part of the "haves" of this world. It's a spiritual exercise, a pilgrimage of sorts. It's an immersion in the difference between what is necessary and what would be nice.

So, here's my list:  30 pieces of clothing for 6 months:

1 pair of black dress pants

1 pair of black jeans

2 pair of blue jeans (one light wash, one dark wash)

1 pair of black shorts

1 pair of black capris

I pair of khaki colored, denim shorts

1 pair of excercise shorts

1 pair of yoga capris

1 black dress clergy shirt

1 black cotton clergy shirt

2 sleevless turtlenecks (one green, one black)

1 long-sleeved black turtleneck

1 white t-shirt

1 white sleeveless "scoop neck" shirt - more dressy than a t-shirt

1 white sweatshirt

1 gray sweater

1 off-white and blue striped sweater

1 hooded Sweatshirt

2 long-sleeved t-hirts

2 logo t-shirts

1 dressy black jacket

1 zip-up black sweater

1 wool, "salt and pepper" jacket

1 casual black jacket

1 jean jacket

1 light-weight black over shirt

That's it! I imagine I will be longing for some color come February, but that's all right. By that time, spring will be just around the corner.

Oh, and here's what I chose for shoes:

1 pair of sandals

1 pair of black pumps

1 pair of tennis shoes

1 pair of boots (practical, not dress)

And for coats/jackets:

1 light-weight jacket

1 ski jacket

Wish me luck.  Pray for me. I will blog regularly to let you know how it's going.

Today, my thoughts are rather simple. I'm grateful that I will have 30 pieces of clothing. Millions are not so lucky. So what do I do with this first world reality?  Time will tell.