The Wedding Slip

There is a wedding slip hanging in my closet. The kind that looks like it could be its own skirt in order to make a wedding dress full. It hangs in the back where I pushed it so I wouldn’t have to look at it and be reminded that I am next.

“This is for Allison,” my aunt said, handing my mother a long, poufy slip.

“For what?”

“Well, she’s the next one that will get married.”

We had just waved goodbye to my last girl cousin to be married, and though it took up too much space in the car and when I tried it on it would have worked better as a train than a slip, we brought it home. Because I was next. Because my three older girl cousins had worn it before me. And my wedding would be the next big event that would bring everyone back together.

Fast forward to another wedding. My family is talking to the bride’s and I hear the words, “Allison is next.”

And I want to say, “Tell God that; not me.” Because within our two families, though I should be the next one to get married according to age, that is not what happens.

But this is what I realized today. I can think about that slip in my closet. I can picture it gathering dust, feeling sad that it may never be used again. Or I can keep it safe in my closet, knowing that for right now, that is where God wants it to be. Maybe someday I will take it out and have it altered. Maybe someday I will give it away to someone who can actually use it. But for now, it is safe in my closet because for reasons I may never understand, that is where God has willed it. This is where God has willed me to be.

                                                                       ~Allison