A couple of days ago, I woke up after a poor night's sleep. I had gone to bed very late, then couldn't sleep, only to wake up earlier than necessary while it was still dark. I was definitely annoyed, anticipating a long day with many frustrating moments because of my lack of sleep and certain irritability. I prayed for grace and after laying there a while, I decided to get up and just plow on through the day as best as I could. I figured if I could just get through the day, I could go to bed early that night and get caught up on my rest.
About 3 or 4 in the afternoon, I paused, amazed at the energy I felt. I pondered on this a few minutes and wondered what it was that had energized me so. Was it from my morning walk on the tread mill? No doubt it helped a lot. Was it the tennis shoes that kept my feet feeling great and comfortable? The Fly Lady swears by it and I think she is on to something here. Or wait...
Was it the apron? I had started cooking a bit earlier, somewhat reluctant to get to involved in meal preparations because I was a bit tired. But then I realized I was getting a bit messy and needed to put on my apron (sleep deprivation causes one to forget normal stuff). And now, here I was, practically skipping through the kitchen and pantry getting more invigorated by the moment! How strange.
The apron had somehow transformed me from a tired slave of kitchen duties to an energized member of generations of women that have proudly served their families. "Empowered" is so over used these days, but I can't think of a better word to describe the feeling I had.
What is it about aprons that cause us to feel so? Is it because of a common link with women over the centuries? Because it seems mostly a feminine accessory? Or is it because an apron is much like our protective armor we don as if we are a noble knight going into battle?
Perhaps it is the fact that an apron communicates thoughts of delicious and nourishing meals, home canned foods, simple household chores, gardens, clothes hanging on the line, someone is home and always there for us, security... love.
It must have been all of those things. And I love it. God had used a simple apron to remind me of my simple, but profound mission.
Years from now, I hope my daughters have memories of me in my apron, cheerful and glad to be at home. Thankful to be a wife and mother. Grateful to serve. Laboring out of love. And I hope they'll pick up an apron, tie one on, and feel as I did.
