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Friday morning when I was spray painting the boys hair for school, I remembered a lesson that my sister and I learned in high school.

Our dad was a preacher, and his salary didn't allow us to jump in the car and run to Memphis to spend $300 dollars on prom dresses. So mom sewed them for us. In fact, almost all of our dresses were either hand-me-downs, or Mom-made. And if she made one dress, she obviously made two- one for Michelle and one for me. (I kept all those dresses for YEARS so my kids could play with them, then I had nothing but BOYS.)

When we were old enough to have a say in this prom dress process, the temptation was to beg for the first dress. After all, waiting was no fun. Watching Michelle get fitted in her black, satin prom dress while I had nothing always sparked a little angst. What if Mom didn't get to mine? Watching Michelle prance in her completed gold lame gown for the Old South formal produced nothing short of jealousy.

But after prom season number two, we started to figure out a little secret. Having Mom create your dress first was not a bonus at all. The second dress always turned out better. It was always the prettiest and fit the best. That's because mom learned on the first dress—how to use the pattern, or work with stays, or stitch the satin. On dress number one she was an amateur. On dress number two she was a pro.

Once we clued in to that, the fight became who had to go first, not who went last. Michelle and I had learned the practical application of Mark 9:35: "If anyone wants to be first, he shall be last of all and servant of all."

So Friday morning, as we were getting ready for Crazy Hair Day at school, I thought of prom dress days. Max was up fast because he wanted to go first. He ordered blue hair with a white star. Mark and Grant were close behind, jockeying for who would be second and third. Mark picked red hair with a white star. Grant went red, white, and blue, with a little glitter on the top.

Jack practically had to be dragged out of bed, and seemed quite content to be last in line. Maybe he's wise beyond his years and knew that the last one in line would have the most recognizable star on the back of his head, and the smallest amount of red sprayed on his ears. The last in line would have the coolest doo because he got to see 3 designs before ordering his.

Some truths never change. Whether you're in line for stars or sequins, being last is best.

(Re-run! Re-run! Re-run!! But my seniors are getting impatient to get their research papers back, and I knew you'd understand. :) )

"Point of Reference" from Fred Price

Called To Brokenness