my favorite pants

Yesterday I sat down for lunch, crossed my ankle over my knee, and discovered that the lower edge of my pants was frayed. Not just frayed, but threads hanging frayed. My favorite pants. My. Favorite, Pants. I'd known they were not long for the Okay to Wear To Work category, as they were fading some, but with all the snow we'd had, and an appointment and a meeting after work, I needed something that would float between work and not work. Seeing the frayed edge made me a little sad, but I still had most of my day in them to go. I reminded myself they were my favorite pants, and pressed on.

Arriving home, I decided to peruse Amazon for the style and brand, hoping against hope that I could find them based on the mysterious numerical codes on the tag, since the original tag with the familiar name was long gone. Finding the tag, I noticed that the waistband was also a bit worn. In fact, all the seams were less than new looking. They looked like broken in, well-worn, very loved favorite pants. That I could wear on a weekend when I was feeling particularly casual.

And I realized I was looking at a metaphor.

Until I took a close look at them, my favorite pants looked fine. Not great, because they were clearly beginning to fade, but they looked fine. Fine enough to wear to work once a week (usually on Friday, my own personal business casual twist). But once I'd seen the truth - the frayed edge of the back of the left hem - I began to see the signs of something more going on. Each telltale spot of wear tugged at my heart in a very different way than some other areas of my life I've been seeing with new eyes. In the biblical context my therapist sometimes like to use, once the scales began to fall away, I've been seeing more than the simple cracks and bumps in my life. I've begun to see the true wear and tear, the dangerously close to breaking parts, the more than a little frayed. My favorite pants fit me. They function. The zipper and the button and hooks are all solidly in place and functional.

But I have to be honest and admit they do not work as dress clothes any longer.

I bought a new pair of pants today. They are similar, but not the same. (They do happen to be the same color, but that was a function of supply, not a matter of true choice.) They may or may not become my next favorite pair of pants. Slowly I will begin to disentangle myself from my attachment to these old pants, until eventually they sit in the bottom of my drawer, even more threadbare than I can imagine at the moment. And I will gratefully say goodbye. Until I looked at - really looked at - the seams and edges yesterday, I had no idea that I could have a 'relationship' with a pair of pants. In reality, that's not what this is; rather serving as a metaphor for a good and true relationship's life cycle. There are neat memories associated with these pants, from work things to personal things, from family events to meeting new friends. I felt good wearing them in part because nearly every time I wore them someone told me I looked nice - someone different just about every time; strangers sometimes. Saying goodbye to a friend is hard. Ending a relationship is painful. These are pants; it'll be much easier. But knowing that all of that wear was happening without my notice for the simple reason that I wasn't even considering looking is a reality check. I find myself in a bit of a life predicament, wondering why no one told me they were getting a bit tired. I've asked enough people that I trust to explain that to me as a life lesson. The response varies, but what it really comes down to is that with scales on my eyes, I couldn't have seen anyway; would not have accepted the idea.

I'm learning to trust more - to trust my instincts, to trust those who love me day after day. to trust the people to whom I choose to open my heart. I'm more selective than I've ever been before, and also more open. More me. My relationships and friendships are now what I want to see in my future, who I want to see there. More honest - like the new relationship I will have with my favorite pants, except the people I'm talking about may spend more time with m public than these old pants.

I just realized the metaphor in having a shopping buddy, like I did tonight. I have a group of friends that have informed me that they are the interview panel for certain levels of friendship. And they are a tough crew - individually and as a group. For that I am so very grateful. When taken at its very basic level, it's kind of like shopping for new pants. At one point, trying on the pants I ultimately bought, my shopping buddy simply said, "Let me see the waistband at the front?" At that moment, I realized that the hard question, the scrutiny that made me feel the most vulnerable, really was the key factor. I needed a shopping buddy to help with the decision I may not have even considered facing. I need my heart family to do the same.