Little Women and a Little Lace Dress

giving up dreams and not wasting good gifts

In my closet at the cottage, at the very back, hangs a black and floral lace dress. It is one of the most exquisite garments ever made.

I found it like a fairytale, stopping by a thrift store on a whim. The moment I touched it’s thick lace, saw its simple cut - I knew - this was a dress for me.

I bravely took Little Man into a fitting room with me, wiggling into the dress. It is the sort of dress you wiggle into, for it fits like a glove. It was as if some godmother had tailor made the dress for my willowy frame, it fit so perfectly. She must have been hard at work that day, for the dress was marked down to $5. I recognized the brand, and well, it’s one that costs significantly more than that.

It was such a beautiful dress that I almost didn’t buy it. I was still in my ‘sad beige children’ era, and there was nothing sad or beige about this dress. My health was poor, and that with the environment I was living in had left me feeling unworthy of such an attractive dress. I didn’t look sickly, waif-like, and unlovable in that dress.

I bought it, uncertain of where or when I would wear it. The lace was fancy, and the cut of the dress, while modest, still highlighted every soft curve of my figure. It was not a church dress.

I hung it in the closet in hope. Hope that one day I would wear it and spark something. I hoped one day I would be seen in it and inspire tender desire, and perhaps a little bit of breathless wonder.

But… I am no Cinderella.

what happened to the dress after that

No. Within two weeks of buying that dress, my world collapsed around me. Little Man and I fled, leaving the dress behind initially. The dress was eventually restored to us, when my mom and her husband kindly went and retrieved our belongings from the metroplex.

I remember hanging the dress in the closet in the cottage, wondering if I should just give it away. I had recently discovered my pregnancy with Azalea Bloom, which ensured that I wouldn’t be wearing that dress for a long time, perhaps never, depending on how my figure changes to accommodate her needs. I thought of several friends, beautiful women whose lives seemed to hold so much more promise, so many more opportunities to wear it, and considered giving it away.

But I couldn’t quite. Every time I touched the beautiful embroidered roses my hand pulled away. I couldn’t give it up.

I still haven’t been able to give it away. I think sometimes it is the silliest attachment I have. My body won’t be wiggling into it anytime soon. Even after the baby weight goes away, the dress is not at all nursing friendly - so not something I will don soon. It is also not a dress for chasing a toddler and catching spit up. I suppose it deserves better.

But - I can’t quite bring myself to give it up.

dreams to give away

I have made my peace, sad as it is at times, to give away the boy baby clothes that Little Man has outgrown. I’ve been able to pass them onto others, knowing it is for the best. Though - there was one particular little boy shirt, a white corduroy with little brown bears that made me weep when I gave it away. I dreamed of Little Man having a brother named Theodore, who I would call ‘Teddy’ in honor of Theodore Laurence in Little Women. Theodore means ‘gift of God’ so I can imagine no name more apropos. But - I bravely faced my grief and gave even that little shirt away, knowing it was unwise to cling to a dream like that. Likewise, I have made my peace - mostly - with the idea of giving away Azalea Bloom’s clothes as she grows. I’ll keep a few of her most memorable pieces, using them to make her blanket or something, but the majority will end up being enjoyed by another little girl and her mother.

It’s not that I wouldn’t love a good plot twist.

But I don’t want to assume it will happen, or live a suspended life in the meantime. God is still good and gracious, even when I am giving away dreams. He was still good, even when I wrote a lament for Theodore, the baby boy I’ll never have, who never even existed. He will still be good, even as every few months I’ll be going through Azalea Bloom’s things and giving them away.

God is still good, even when the dreams we cherished are taken away. Because something I realized? God was with me as I folded each tiny shirt and trouser, placing them in a bag for someone else’s baby to wear. His presence steadied me, reminding me that I wasn’t alone. He has been with me every time a dream has died, every time I gift I longed for was lost.

He is with me now.

He is with me on days when I long to run away a join a convent because nothing sounds safer than being surrounded by godly women and megalithic stone walls.

And he is with me on days when I long for a different sort of safety, a safety that comes with warm arms and the possibility of more babies and misadventures.

And he is with me, even as I recognize that my future probably doesn’t hold either of these dreams, but something still beautiful, and good, and true.

dreams that stay

I have decided to keep the black lace dress. While I had dreamed of wearing it on a date, I’ve also considered that there might be other occasions suitable for its debut - the wedding of a dear friend, my own graduation with an MA certificate in trauma healing, or even a (if I was feeling especially daring) quiet Christmas Eve with my very own little family, my January boy, and my June girl, both sweet answered prayers and fulfilled dreams.

Besides - I’m a believer in fairytales, and I am fairly certain my fairy godmother wouldn’t be overly pleased if I gave away her hard spun work.

some thoughts from Amy March

Amy March, by Ashley Yazdani ¹

Little Women is one of my favorite books. I often find the wisdom I glean from its pages coming to me. In one of my favorite scenes, Amy and Laurie are talking about how he has been spending his time. He has been lazy and foolish, refusing to pursue any good or useful ends. His heart has been broken by his beloved Jo, who wisely turned down his marriage proposal.²

Amy tells him, “Love Jo all your days if you choose, but don’t let it spoil you, for it’s wicked to throw away so many good gifts just because you can’t have the one you want.”

One of the reasons I love this scene is that Amy has been deeply in love with Laurie her whole life. Amy knows what it is to not get the gift, to not have the dream she wants. The man she has always loved has never once looked at her that way, finally proposing to her sister. Yet - she is determined to find a fulfilling life for herself. She follows her own advice. Likewise, Laurie finds this bit of wisdom helpful. He realizes that living without purpose, wandering about, hasn’t brought him any closer to happiness or peace.

Laurie does eventually recover from his infatuation with Jo. He finds other dreams, and a truer, deeper love. When I consider my future, I want to follow this pattern. The dreams I had of a loving, safe, intimate relationship, and an abundance of babies is lost. But - I still have so many good and precious gifts in my life. I don’t wish to waste those because I did not receive the one I wanted. I refuse to become a raisin of a person. You know the raisin people? The ones turned all wrinkly and shriveled by bitterness and unforgiveness?

Well - I refuse to become a raisin.

I may have to give away all the baby clothes, and I may never wear that lace dress on a date, but I think there is hope for us yet.

“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.” (Jas. 1:17)

Even when our dreams are scattered like tufts of a dandelion, impossible to regain and collect - God does not change. He is not a shifting shadow. He still longs to give his children good and perfect gifts. And he knows what gifts we need most, the ones that will draw us closer to him, the ones that will bring us to an abundant life. We can rest in the knowledge of his goodness, of the reality that he is the Father of the Heavenly Lights.

And he does good gifts, sometimes unexpectedly.

Even when I was in a quagmire of illness, and trying to endure abuse and betrayal, I longed for a daughter. I ached for her to be born in June, my sweet little summer bloom. I prayed for her, I longed for her, I ached for her. Doctors said it was ‘unlikely, maybe impossible.’ But still - I prayed for her, for the gift of her life, for the dream of holding her. One of things I lamented on a dear walk with a friend, a walk taken within days of our departure from the metroplex was that I would never have a daughter. The Holy Spirit, in that moment, whispered to her that I was already pregnant with my longed for daughter, even if I was still oblivious.

As Azalea Bloom’s birth approaches, I find myself caught in such a state of wonder and confusion.

She is such a good gift. She is the dream I thought lost forever. She is the prayer answered.

She has also come in the most unexpected and strangest of circumstances. Nothing, absolutely nothing, of what I imagined.

Her life reminds me daily that God does give good gifts, he does consider our dreams and hopes. And that… that should give us hopeful trembling. We are loved by a God that knows us intimately, that sees the deepest longings of our hearts. He is with us as we grieve the death of the dreams we must give up, and the gifts we know we will not receive, and he is still good.

And sometimes - he may surprise us by answering those dreams, or giving us other gifts that we never expected, never even thought to consider.

So let us go forward in hope.

1. https://www.ashleyyazdani.com/

2. To everyone who has only watched movie versions and thinks Jo and Laurie should have ended up together - you’re wrong. To everyone who has read the book and somehow still thinks Jo and Laurie should have ended up together - you’re wrong, but I am willing to discuss this civilly over a cup of tea.