My bra was riding up, sliding down, giving me all kinds of grief for which I did not have time or energy during the Hooding ceremony I was scheduled to attend that Friday evening. I was invited to give the Welcome address at Portland Seminary and though I could have gone naked under my doctoral robe, I figured clothing + undergarments were a good option for the Meet and Greet pizza party before the ceremony.
I landed at the airport with just enough time to run into Target, grab a new brassiere and bolt across town before traffic turned to a solid slab of concrete.
Racing into the store, I resisted all the new, cute, spring line of dresses and skirts, and made a beeline toward the women’s lingerie. I spun around the corner, banking to the left near the active wear, and couldn’t believe my luck! There on an end cap hung the perfect sporty bra. A shopper must have half-hazardly parked it there. As God is my witness and miracle-giver, there was the precise item I needed, the right size, in black, narrow straps, nice breathable fabric, support in all the right places. As any woman who’s crawled on her hands and knees ripping through the tangle of lingerie hangers knows, at least 45 minutes had just been shaved from my search. Doing a little dance step I darted into the fitting rooms, yep, yep, yep. How amazing is all this gadgetry on sport bras these days?
In fifteen minutes flat, I was in, out, and on my way. Good thing too. Traffic was sludge in some areas, but still flowing. I checked into my room at the Crowne Plaza, took a quick shower, ironed my dress and gown, spruced up my hair and makeup and set out for the evening’s festivities.
We ate together, and I made my way around the room meeting grads, spouses, families and friends. Minutes before lining up and processing in, we faculty and the graduates slid into our robes, hoods, and caps. Entering back stage left, I walked to the podium and gave the Welcome address without a hitch. The ceremony was lovely. What a joy it was to share the night with those whom I’d invested in, and come to love as my own.
I had entirely forgot what I was wearing (which is the point of a carefully chosen wardrobe and undergarments), even in the late hours of going out after the ceremony with friends. After a few hours of sleep, I was back on a plane headed for home.
That next afternoon in my home office, I sipped coffee and processed receipts, divvying up which ones were personal and which were for business reimbursement. I put the Target receipt in the personal stack. Just then the printout caught my eye. I leaned in to take a closer look. Wait a minute, did I get someone else’s receipt? This wasn’t mine.
Description: Nursing $22.85 + tax.
The clerk must have rung it up incorrectly. I had purchased a nifty sport bra. Curious. I reached down and pulled up my hoody. Hmm. Sure enough… on this particular model, the handy little hooks at the shoulders make for quick and easy entry.
Yes, without my knowing, I wore a nursing bra to speak a blessing over the seminary. I laugh knowing God as Mother outwitted my overly-serious focus on saying just the right words, didn’t want me to get too caught up in professionalism and chance forgetting who I am called to be: Mamosta, Dr. Mama. Tell me that God, perfect in Provision, Wisdom and Love doesn’t have a hearty, good chuckle from time to time.