Never Look a Gift Compliment in the . . .

Pride goes before destruction,
And a haughty spirit before stumbling.
Proverbs 16:18

When Daniel and I were young and poor (student newlyweds!) I sewed for both of us. I made simple dresses and flowing skirts for myself; I tailored baggy slacks and a particularly stunning wool overcoat for him.

But my pride and joy was the off-white raw silk suit I made to wear to church. The fabric was exquisite: so lightweight I could hardly feel it, yet textured with natural slubs throughout. I searched for weeks to find just the right buttons for the cardigan jacket, finally settling on round light wood ones tinged with dark edge scorching.

As a Sanguine Personality, I’m not naturally fond of details. But when it came to sewing, you’d be hard-pressed to find anyone else as OCD (more like CDO — gotta get those letters in alphabetical order!) about perfection. I labored over every seam: sewing and ripping out and re-sewing, pressing, steaming, shaping. And then the topstitching! Using twin needles, I meticulously topstitched every edge: cuffs, collar, pockets, bottom hems. (It was the 80’s; topstitching and big shoulder pads were so in vogue!)

The first time I wore my creation to church, I was bursting for someone to notice. I had poured so many hours into it; it was time for my reward! As a Sanguine Personality, I sought two things: attention (someone to notice my suit . . .) and approval (. . . and to gush about it!)

I couldn’t believe my good fortune when, during the “meet and greet” time, the lovely woman sitting in front of us turned around, said, “Hello!” and immediately asked me, “Did you make your suit?”

Wow! If she, a particularly well-put-together woman, had noticed my suit so quickly, how many other women were likely to notice me throughout the service? How many would surely rush me after church, all anxious to add their admiration to my growing collection?

“Why yes, I did!” I affirmed, beaming with almost maternal pride.

And then, anxious to know exactly what had caught her eye (The obviously au currant styling? The perfect marriage of fabric with findings? The perfection of fit?) I asked, “How could you tell?”

She leaned forward, lowered her voice, patted me sympathetically on the hand, and whispered, “My pockets always turn out that way, too.”

One thing I learned (from the new suit I wore only once!) is that when someone gives me a compliment, I take it and run.