My Burqa

With the political and international climate in which we all exist, there has been an increased awareness of other cultures. Considering the events of the last eight years, the current Middle Eastern conflicts and the United States involvement in Iraq, most of us know what a burqa is. Living in Dearborn, MI; I live amongst women who wear a burqa and have no choice but to become accustomed to this previously foreign attire. In case you're wondering, I do not wear a burqa although there are days when it would be an improvement.
I am not for or against the burqa, it is simply a statement reflecting a different ethnicity. I know it represents oppression to some and modesty to others. And I whole heartedly agree with the requirements in some situations for the wearer's face to be exposed for the sake of security. But political and social issues aren't what I generally think of as I pass a woman wearing a burqa. I think of religion.
I am not speaking of how the faith of the Muslim community differs from mine. I'm talking about how this expression of belief makes me pause to consider my own and what it means in my own daily appearance. The burqa leaves no doubt about what the woman inside means to express. The burqa represents the wearer's modesty. It makes me think about the idea that this woman has reserved parts of herself for only her husband. In this, the burqa speaks to me.
I was raised in a conservative Pentacostal church and in a home where the church rules were not changed for private life. There was never a question about modesty and purity in my upbringing. I was taught that my sexuality was created for only my husband. That husband was as real to me as a young girl long before I knew who he was as it is to me today, nearing 22 years of marriage. You could say, I wear a spiritual burqa. My parents wrapped me in this spiritual burqa when I was born and when I chose to remove it, it was on my wedding night.
My burqa covers my body that only my husband is permitted to see and touch. It covers my eyes reminding me that he is the only man that I am to be drawn to. It covers my head reminding me to discipline my thoughts. It covers my mouth reminding me to keep from conversations that compromise the purity of my intimate relationship with this one man, my husband.
My burqa makes it very hard to compromise what I am supposed to be. Just as a physical burqa makes the statement that this woman is in no way public property, my spiritual burqa keeps hidden those things which are not meant to be exposed except between Dean and me.
I don't think we all need to put on burqas. But I do think these women have surpassed the American public in wisdom by placing such high regard on their purity. They have maintained a determination to keep themselves for only their husbands. We have gotten too comfortable with our marriages and in doing so make what should be sacred common. That which is common will be quickly compromised.
I am grateful for my burqa. It makes me uncomfortable when other men cross a line with touch or words. It makes me keep certain aspects of my marriage within my heart and stops me from discussing those most intimate moments even with other women. It saves me the heartache of impulsive choices or secrets I must hide from my husband. In difficult moments, it ensures that these other people, everyone except Dean and Sara stand outside of us. That we share with each other this thing that makes us one.
A burqa can be taken off within the home and in the presence of a woman's husband. A burqa can also be put on at will. There is no one, regardless of culture, who has not compromised in deed, thought or conversation what God has created in marriage. Certainly not me. But I cover my head, my eyes, my mouth and my body as soon as I am reminded that this is what protects me and not what inhibits me.
It is never too late to learn the lesson of the burqa.

Psalm 51:10 Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me.