It all started innocently enough. One Sunday morning, I went to the women’s restroom at church. I quickly scooted into the second stall, thankful that, for once, there wasn’t a line. But to my consternation, there on the floor of my stall I saw a pair of tiny, black, lace underwear.
Of all the places I might expect to see abandoned panties—the gym locker room, a Victoria’s Secret dressing room, the stage at a Justin Timberlake concert—church certainly was not one of them. Who did they belong to? Why had she taken them off? And what sad state of distraction was she in to be wandering around church sans underwear and oblivious to her skivvy-less state.
Then I got to wondering what God thinks of black lace underwear. I’m not legalistic in the least, but is church really the place for lace lingerie? Don’t get me wrong, if I were wearing such an item of clothing, it wouldn’t be the risqué nature of my undergarments distracting me from worshiping God, but rather the itchiness of the fabric. Maybe that’s why they ended up on the floor of the women’s room.
I did what I’d come to do and then went to the counter to wash my hands. Another woman entered the restroom. She went into stall number two. Then she came right back out and looked at me, one eyebrow raised. “Did you drop something?” she politely asked. “No, they were there when I came,” I replied. Still have my granny panties, thank you very much.
She looked back at the minuscule panties. Her voice tinged with reluctance, she asked, “Should we take them to lost and found?” I wrinkled my nose. She frowned. Clearly neither of us wanted to carry our anonymous sister-in-Christ’s g-string to the church office. We agreed it was best to leave them be in case our natural friend became aware of a draft beneath her skirt.
I don’t know what became of the black lace underwear, but I have a vision in my head of a grizzled janitor poking at the tiny pile with the handle of his broom. Far better that than my other mental image: an associate pastor holding them up in front of the congregation. “Panties? Anyone lost their panties?”
The Writer Who Speaks
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