Beauty

I hesitated to move seven or eight years back, not for traditional reasons necessarily, but partly because I didn’t want it to be all about needing something prettier or newer.  I felt content.  I liked that our house matched how I felt we were.  But we also felt a bit squished, at least as we looked ahead even just a couple years as the kids would be getting bigger.  Three in one little room was already tight.  We wanted land.  Fruit trees.  A more prolific garden.  But we’d have to switch neighborhoods.

I was almost afraid of the new women I’d be associating with at church.  Maybe hesitant sounds better.  To me they were an entirely different breed.  Beautiful, talented, fashionable, educated, fun, and fancy.  I was/am basic.  So basic.  And I wondered if we’d have anything in common.  I still don’t know why we are here, and I don’t know why it wasn’t right to stay where we were; but I feel like lessons lurk around every corner, that we can glean something from every interaction, that we come away from every experience a better person.  And so it’s been.

These great women have changed me forever, convincing me that it is ok to make things beautiful.  Which was not necessarily my mindset when I entered their world.  In my limited scope I equated substance with plainness.  Embellishment with wastefulness.  I can see now how prideful I was.  Thinking time spent decorating was less time spent on the weightier pursuits.  How judgmental.  And off-base!  I am forever grateful for the humbling journey I’ve been on with these ladies who have kindly and gradually been able to teach me.

That the investment in beauty is sometimes worth it.  I will never be sold on extravagance.  Or indulgence.  Or doing things for the sake of show.  Or at the expense of what really matters.  But I will say that beauty has the power to create feelings.  To enhance vision. 

When someone has taken the time to lay out a simple pressed tablecloth along with a vase of fresh flowers for a dinner, I feel a bit pampered and cared for.  I just know as women and mothers and nurturers we are the ones to take care of so many needs, and so to have that little token of love buoys me up.  And since I know how it makes me feel, I’ve learned it’s an easy way to let someone else know they’re special and worth making the effort for.  Simple elegance inspires and elevates.  I love that these women have taught me to have fun, to set an elegant table, to spend time on themselves by working out and making the most of what they have, to search out good food, to beautify their homes, to look beyond the pragmatic and to spend an extra portion of their resources to embellish just a little, to add a little personality and flair here and there.  We can all go over the top, and I think some women do.  But a little feminine touch adds softness and a sense of delight. 

Along these lines, I had a friend in Illinois tell me about her dad.  We were just young mothers at this time with little kids, still trying to establish traditions, learning how to be moms.  As I still do, I’d cling to any advice and words of wisdom from those who have been there before me.  He taught her the importance of Sunday Dinner, telling her it wasn’t optional, she needed to have it be a little nicer, create a tradition her family could count on and look forward to.  I’d always loved that Sunday tradition growing up, the one day we’d have a big dinner and dessert, different from the other weekday fare.  It seemed more special somehow, and looking back I can see how in subtle ways my mom made it that way.  We used placemats.  Serving dishes.  We could take our time without evening commitments.  Whenever I’m tempted to let that tradition slide I think back to Jenni and her dad.  And I put in a little more effort.  Nothing too fancy.  Just a tablecloth or placemats.  Goblets.  Sometimes candles.  A roast or something we don’t normally have.  Most of the time dad cooks.  It’s a day we can count on dessert.  In fact, we’ve made it a tradition to have sundaes on Sundays.  All because it reminds us that it’s a different day.  Those little niceties make a difference.

My little sister shared an interesting observation a few years back, having run a quick errand before getting ready for the day.  She just prayed she wouldn’t run into anyone she knew, she couldn’t help but feel a little unlike herself.  And she is beautiful even right when she wakes up, so it’s not even about how we look even, it’s about how we feel.  When she told me how she felt I totally understood.  It’s kind of like when a friend of mine had just finished an early-morning final and popped his head into work.  All he could say is that he just wanted to go take a shower.  It’s a small thing.  But I know we all feel the difference when we’ve taken just a few minutes to take a shower, even put on perfume, clothes other than sweats (a nice shirt is just as easy as a torn sweatshirt), and put on some lipgloss and mascara.  It’s not a lot, but it makes all the difference.  When you don’t feel comfortable (not talking comfy, I mean good), you can’t help but be a bit distracted and somewhat self-conscious, even to the point of being self-absorbed sometimes.  (Like when you find a huge run in your tights right down your shin or you realize you forgot a slip when you look at yourself in the sunny reflection or deodorant on a hot sweaty day.)  My sister noticed how much easier it is to forget herself and focus on others once she feels put together for the day.  Neither one of us wears a lot of make up or has fancy hair or wears tons of jewels, she wasn’t talking about that.  Just in the simple ways I described.  Because once you’ve done your best to look presentable, you can forget yourself.  You are free to look outward because you aren’t so concerned about yourself.  In small ways you are telling yourself you matter, that you are valuable enough to spend a few minutes on, and that you are ready to serve.

I remember hearing a talk years ago.  This woman had struggled with her appearance—specifically because of acne—as a teenager.  But she had a wise mother. Over and over she said to me, “You must do everything you can to make your appearance pleasing, but the minute you walk out the door, forget yourself and start concentrating on others.”   (Susan Tanner) Another wise man said nearly the exact same thing, After you have done what you can to improve your appearance, forget about yourself and think of others and their needs. (Joe J. Christensen)  I have found this to be a true principle, aptly applicable.

We can do this in our homes as well.  No matter what kind of house or apartment we’re talking about.  I think you know the feeling of leaving in the morning, rushed, with dishes all over, the house is kind of disheveled, beds not made.  You hope no one comes by.  But you know that’s the only time someone will.  And it’s the only time ever that you’ll end up showing her around for some reason.  I had a friend step in and bring flowers to the kitchen when I was sick but not home (I know).  Totally not a big deal.  Just embarrassing.  Because when I came back I couldn’t help but see it all through her eyes.  Contrast that scenario with the days when you at least cleared the table, picked up the piles, just kind of got the house ready for the day.  It just feels better.

When I think of God, I think of tranquility and peace.  Order and light.  Centeredness.  Love. Calmness.  And definitely beauty.  I imagine where He lives embodies all of these things.  And we can emulate these God-like qualities in our own lives and homes.  We can feel a portion of what He feels.  And then spread and share that same goodness.

I feel free to serve when I know that the basics are done in my own home.  It doesn’t always work out that way; service is least of all convenient.  I know about losing ourselves in the service of God, but I don’t think He needs His servants to be dressed in rags and to be disheveled and to leave their doors hanging on their hinges while they go to serve the neighbors.  Sometimes the best service is rendered in our homes.  And sometimes that service includes creating a peaceful and beautiful respite from the world.  I feel more calm and focused on what I’m doing outside my home when I leave it in good standing.  I love it when it’s tidy and I’m home with music and a candle.  The stage is set.  Not necessarily for anyone but me.  But I’m relaxed.  And it just feels good.  But at the same time, it’s ready for others.  Because when our house is under control (it’s never perfect, but you know what I mean), I feel ok about including others, inviting people in, about going out.

You know I hate extravagance.  But I still think there are small ways we can beautify our spaces, ourselves, our yards, our bedrooms (we are so bad at this!), our lives.  We have the power to make things lovely.  Music is free.  Letting light in costs nothing but is an instant boost, a stark contrast to the dark.  Cleaning products can be purchased by the gallon for pennies; nothing is more beautiful than clean.  A tube of lipstick or lipgloss can be as cheap as $3.  A few quality pieces will hold up and look better than a closet full of cheaply constructed tops.  Flowers can come from a garden or when they’re on clearance at the grocery store.  In fact, I made it a resolution a couple of years ago to keep fresh flowers on our table, a simple and inexpensive luxury that lifts my spirits whenever I’m near them.  Fresh paint might be the easiest way to make a room feel new.  Setting the table even for leftovers makes us feel more centered, gathered.

This principle applies across life.  When we’ve created an item of beauty like a quilt or poster or bench, we are confident about letting others see it.  When we’ve put some effort into a yummy dessert, we are happy to share.  When we do our best with what we have, we’re free to then focus on what we can do for others, how they might be feeling, what they’d like to share with us.  We can step away from ourselves and look outward.  In small and simple ways I know you know what I’m talking about.

I suppose there are times to go all out: a fancy ball (good grief) or a wedding.  A special holiday dinner or party.  It’s fun to pull out all the stops and have a good time.  We certainly like to decorate at Christmas and some people enjoy themed parties (yikes) and getting dressed up.  It’s fun to decorate and make things pretty.  There is certainly a place for that.  But in simple ways we can create a mood, a feeling, and a sense of peace within ourselves and our homes that sets the stage.  When we’ve done what we can to make things nice, by making our beds or putting on some earrings or putting together a great flyer, we’re showing that we care.  Not obsessing about ourselves or our homes or whatever, just making the most of our resources and abilities and moving on.

And so that’s one of the lessons I’ve been learning over the years.  From my mom and sisters, Jenni’s dad, the women surrounding me at school and church.   They have taught me to seek out the lovely.  To embrace beauty.   That it is more than ok.  It is Godlike.