Glory

We don’t wear veils much anymore – certainly not in this culture.  Unless, of course, “we” are a bride on her wedding day.  Nobody from Paris or New York sends skinny models down the runway wearing the latest veil fashions. And chances are, you won’t find them in Macy’s or Chico’s or that fabulously French discounter Target either.

But make no mistake about it.  We still wear them – sometimes for good reason, sometimes not.

Veils are for hiding.  For creating boundaries and secret spaces.  And sometimes that’s a good idea.  Ever meet somebody at a bus stop or party and ask the customary “How are you?” and they tell you?  In detail?  Sorta makes you wish you had a veil (or a gag) in your back pocket.

At other times veils are symbols or expressions of something else.  They are reminders of how broken, how sinful, how messed up we are.  The veil dresses up on the outside what is ugly or painful on the inside. [click to continue…]

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Somewhere in the back story of the drama that is your life, you are rehearsing a Cinderella story.  One that transforms you from zero to hero, from reject to regal.  You imagined it as a kid in ways that were unique to you.  This dream may have been fed by caring parents, or it may have been an escape from the harshness of your world.

Simply put, you dreamed of glory.

Not vainglory, mind you.  Something more.  An image that said you mattered.  Belonged.  Were wonderfully adequate for the role you’d been chosen – for your quest.

Then came the collision.  Dreams were broadsided by disappointments.  You never quite figured out how to translate that high school stardom into a career or a destiny.  Or worse, you actually found your place in the world, but stared in the mirror at a fraud.  Maybe you got what (or who) you’d always wanted, and you bombed.  Maybe you just settled into paying the bills and keeping house, and woke up a generation later wondering what happened.

Sometimes I think our greatest fear or vulnerability isn’t the evil we’re all capable of.  What we most dread or most grieve is that we’re just so ordinary. [click to continue…]

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