Beauty tip

Most of the time it’s not even an issue.  Turning 44 next week, I feel like I’ve all but outgrown this tendency, and so it’s kind of surprised me that it’s even been on my mind lately.  And I hesitate—as I do most of the time when I’m sharing my personal life—to even admit I’m dealing with something like this.  But I have felt to let you into my heart in hopes that it will resonate with even one person.  And that it will help.

I will attribute it to hormones, possibly age.  But to be honest, I’m blaming my sisters.

I spent a weekend with them this fall.  Their Christmas cards/photos came this week.  I think my sisters are beautiful.  I always have.  But even more so lately.  I can’t put my finger on it, they just are.  They are looking more and more alike to me, which is interesting because I never really thought they did until this past year.  They have longish light brown hair, one with blond highlights.  I’ve always had plain dark brown hair.  Mostly short.  I love their cheekbones.  I’ve never had cheekbones, just a roundish, comfy face. I know we have features in common like our blue eyes and freckles and thick hair.  People even tell us we sort of look alike.  It’s just that I’ve always felt like the odd one out.  Especially now.

And so I know this is a personal issue.  And the last thing I want is comments, reassurance.  That’s not at all what this is about.  Please don’t pester me with that kind of thing.  I’m fine.  Totally fine.  Just wanted to share the thoughts I’ve been dealing with because maybe somewhere along the line you have too.

You know how it is.  A bad hair day.  A string of them.  I wonder if I should embrace my dark hair.  If I should highlight it like my sister and all my girlfriends.  I wonder if I should cut it or grow it out.  Bangs or try without?  I’m not in love with any of it at the moment.  I think it’s partly winter in Montana.  And the pasty white look.  I so prefer colored cheeks and a little brown tint, even if it means a few more freckles and dirty looks from my dermatologist friend.  I think I’ve had too many treats this year.  That, or it’s these dumb jeans that give every woman I know a muffin top.  Better than mom jeans, but low riders have no where to push residual baby fat but up.  But not far enough up.  I think my mom and sisters have been losing too much weight. I think I’m jealous.

And so I decided to be pro-active.  But not in the way you’d think.  I haven’t gotten highlights; in fact I just touched up my gray roots in medium brown.  I haven’t cut my hair or made any decisions about it.  I’m not getting (any more) plastic surgery; I’m determined to deal with what I have.  I’m still working out every morning, and I’m trying to watch what I eat; but I’ll be honest, I’m still having cupcakes and cookies.  A handful of caramel corn every now and then.  Bread.  I figure I’ve got to be real with myself—there’s no way I’ll ever give that stuff up, so I might as well work around it.  Bottom line, I can’t switch things up drastically. So I went to God for ideas.

I’m not afraid to talk to Him about real life.  I ask Him, for instance, about ideas for a healthy lunch.  To help me know if I should stay home or help a friend.  If this book is worth my time. Throughout the day and week and year, He’s my go-to.  And so I know enough about Him to know if this is an issue for me—as petty as it is—then He will help walk me through it.  Because we all know how sad it is when one of our own daughters has a down period of time.  All I want is for her to know how absolutely precious she is.  The last thing in the universe I care about is what her hair is doing.  Or what size she is.  Or what shade her skin is.  I love her simply because she’s my daughter.  And so with that in mind, I knew He’d help me re-focus.

The answer I’ve been learning is that is doesn’t matter one bit what anyone else thinks about us—even when it comes to what we look like.  Which is funny in a way because I think we think we’re trying to look good for everyone else.  But preferences are so personal, how could you ever appeal to everyone out there?  We really are only trying to look good so that we feel good. 

I remember writing a list of answers to a question in the scriptures, “What desirest thou?”  A list of maybe 15-20 entries.  And one of them was “To feel beautiful.”  Which is interesting.  I knew intuitively that I wanted to only write items I could honestly satisfy.  I couldn’t all of a sudden become worldly beautiful.  But I knew I could feel beautiful.  Maybe simple semantics; this word choice made all the difference though.  Because I wouldn’t be at the mercy of the world, waiting for their deciding vote.  It would be between me and God.  And I know I can do anything with Him.  Even feel beautiful.  What I’m really saying is it has more to do with what we think about ourselves than what we actually look like.

Think about preschoolers.  They love wearing bright colors, doesn’t matter if they match or clash.  They just want the sparkly shoes.  Or to wear a cape.  And when we let them, we encourage their confidence.  Radiating joy and pride, they couldn’t care less what any one else thinks.  They are just bursting to show who they are and what they think of themselves.  And we can’t help but smile with them as they bask in their obvious enthusiasm and bliss.  They are absolutely beautiful to watch.

That’s kind of what I’m getting at.  You know I’ve talked about this all before.  We do what we can with what we have, we find clothes we feel good in, we do our best to be healthy, we take care of ourselves.  But the key is that we don’t dwell on all of that.  Instead, we move away from the external and focus way more on what we can do for others and how we can help them feel great.

And so that’s where this has come for me.  My mom’s and sisters’ hearts are three of the most gorgeous hearts I’ve ever seen.  Generous, fun-loving, passionate about finding ways to lift the burdens of others, fiercely devoted to family and morals.  They radiate beauty like no magazine girl could.  Their beauty is deep and genuine, which is why it’s so attractive.  They are warm and funny and accepting and real and loving.  And I think that’s what I’ve been seeing this year in them, they become more beautiful every time I see them.  And I long for that myself.  Which is awesome because that kind of beauty is within everyone’s reach.  I know this, I’ve preached it a million times.  And so even though I hit a dip in the road and took a few days off to wallow, I’ve known in my heart that this is the answer.

A little reminder we’ve heard before but maybe we should teach our children, Elder Parley P. Pratt described the effects of the Holy Ghost:  “[His influence] quickens all the intellectual faculties, increases, enlarges, expands and purifies all the natural passions and affections; and adapts them, by the gift of wisdom, to their lawful use. It inspires, develops, cultivates and matures all the fine-toned sympathies, joys, tastes, kindred feelings and affections of our nature. It inspires virtue, kindness, goodness, tenderness, gentleness and charity. It develops beauty of person, form and features. It tends to health, vigor, animation and social feeling. It invigorates all the faculties of the physical and intellectual man. It strengthens, and gives tone to the nerves. In short, it is, as it were, marrow to the bone, joy to the heart, light to the eyes, music to the ears, and life to the whole being” (Key to the Science of Theology, 9th ed. [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1965], p. 101).

I love knowing where true beauty comes from.  And when we forget or the world distracts us, I’m so grateful that we know Who we can go to to help us remember.  When we have God’s love in our hearts, when we are doing all we can to love and serve like Christ, we will have His spirit with us, we will have His image in our countenance, and that is the kind of beautiful I want to be.  Even with dark short hair, sans cheekbones or highlights. ;)

A peaceful Christmas

You’ll think I’m daft.  I have my resolutions taped to the wall right beside the mirror I have to look in every morning and night of my life.  But I don’t really ever look at them; they’re sort of like background wallpaper and, especially at the bookends of my day, I’m easily distracted.  Plus, I don’t make many, so I kind of know what I’m working on.  But as Thanksgiving approached, and then as December unfolded, it was as if I was recalling parts of a dream from a last night vision, I vaguely remembered I’d already asserted earlier this year that I’d behave come Christmas.  Just to check my work, to affirm that I had indeed made an actual resolution, and that it was meant for this year, I checked my side-mirror-panel of resolutions and there it was next to Be More Generous.  Peaceful Christmas.

Come to think of it, they kind of go hand-in-hand.  I should’ve written a summary goal instead.  Settle down.  Quit worrying about the money.  Just try to have some fun.  And that would’ve taken care of a litany of issues.  For whatever it’s worth, I thought I’d give you a report of how it’s all going since we’re half-way through the holiday season.  You know I write, in part, to retain a record of everyday life for my family.  But I also write in hopes that some of you will learn from my mistakes and do better.  Much better.

I admit it, I think money is my top stressor.  It’s not everyone’s, but for some reason it’s mine.  An issue from childhood I really ought to talk to someone about.  But to alleviate a bit of stress, I have a little white envelope that I’ve saved a little cash in this year.  My mom and sister do this; a brilliant yet simple solution.  So I can take my family to Olive Garden when they come without panicking when I see the $75 lunch bill that has the potential to make me grumpy for the rest of the day.  To dinner at Johnny Carino’s on Monday when they have their family platter special.   So we can stay in a hotel as a family after the Christmas Stroll.  Any time I’ve found a little extra cash from the groceries or a reimbursement, I’ve slid it in the envelope.  I know we could take the whole envelope and give it to the poor people, to buy socks for everyone, coats.  I know.  This is so hard for me.  If only you knew.  I want to do all of that, I wish I could do more.  But this little envelope is giving me permission to have fun with my family in a couple of small ways while relieving my uptightness.

I straddle this issue, a constant internal back-and-forth, if only you knew.  I want to give.  And I want to make memories with our family.  Of course.  We’re all like that.  I’ve always just felt guilty when we’ve spent money on ourselves when there are so many people in our own community who struggle, especially the homeless teens.  That concern right there breaks my heart.  How can I go out to dinner when all these kids want is a sleeping bag so they can sleep in the little caves north of town or some canned chili?  You can imagine my conflict.

But I’m figuring it out.  Slowly.  Oh so slowly.  I’m glad I’m not getting graded and that it’s not a timed test.  I’m the last to figure out most of the important things in life.  But here’s where I am.  My goal to be more generous has helped I think.  I am constantly pep-talking myself, reminding myself that we do give.  We try to do small bits throughout the year.  But the December marketing and Empty Stocking stories in the paper and solicitations for Toys for Tots at my massage lady’s place and The Samaritan’s Purse at Hobby Lobby all tug at my heart, I feel torn to bits, like everyone’s demanding—in a soft, yet pleading, way—a piece of me.

We do what we can during the year.  And we do what we can at Christmas. I feel at peace with what we do.  And I pray for more so we can do more.  It’s just that we’re constantly aware of the need.  And so I continually wonder if we’ve done enough.  I think this is the underlying cause of some of my stress.  Not having a confirmation that we have.  I just read a story in the paper yesterday about a little fifth grader who collects items for the homeless teens.  She doesn’t want anything for Christmas, she channels all her money into this project, and she’s been heading it up for two years.  This year she’s involved six schools and hopes to compile 500 backpacks.  That’s the kind of thing I’m up against.  I can’t help but wonder what my part to play in all of this Christmas giving is.  And if we’ve done enough.  But as a coping mechanism, I tell myself that it doesn’t all have to be in December.  Breathe.  They still need gloves in February.  They need Ramen and deodorant in March.  We can spread it out.  Settle.

I’ve made a menu for the whole time my family will be here.  Because this tends to be another arena that stresses me out.  I want to make everything homemade for my mom and sister who both live alone and never cook.  And yet, the last thing I want to do after another marathon shopping trip is come home and work in the kitchen for another couple of hours.  So I vowed last year I’d do Nothing Fancy.  So this year it’s taquitos, tacos, lasagna, cashew chicken, chicken squares, ham.  Old fashioned comfort food that I don’t have to even think about, that I know my sister likes.  I love the idea of buying bread for Christmas instead of making it this year.  I love that we’ll have boxed brownies with ice cream for dessert (the one thing I’ve been doing right for several years).  I feel so relieved to have a plan.

I’ve shopped all year.  To spread out the spending more than to get ahead.  You already knew that though.  I love that our closet is my secret stashing spot.  Nothing fancy, nothing crazy.  Just a couple of games.  Some socks.  Coats for a couple, shoes for another.  A sled.  Some stocking stuffers—the most stressful part of all.  I’ve had so much fun shopping!  Instead of worry so much about the money, I try to find things I think they’ll love.  Of course I use coupons and sales and even return items when I find a better deal somewhere else.  Even in my heightened awareness state, I haven’t changed that much.

We’ve carried on a tradition I’ve come to love so much.  We meet early in the season and remind the kids we want them to do something meaningful.  To make a gift with their hands for someone, to serve in some way, to just put some thought into one of their gifts.  I love that Todd and the kids are working on a chair in the garage, that Callum’s come in splattered with paint many afternoons.  I love that Avery has her stack of material ready for her creations.  I love that at least most of them are thinking about it.

I love the idea I told you about earlier, to give your kids some money that they need to give away between Thanksgiving and Christmas and then talk about it on Christmas Eve.  It’s already been a great, great part of the season.  So fun.  I can’t wait to hear more about it on Christmas Eve.

I’m not worried about getting my Christmas letters out by a certain date.  I still have piles all over; I’ll get there.  I send out a batch every couple of days.  My ten-year-old daughter thinks it’s like playing office, and she’s written my envelopes and stamped them all, then folds and stuffs the letters.  I love our time together listening to Christmas music on her bed or mine.  At the kitchen table in assembly line fashion with the lights on our tree as backdrop.

I’ve got packages in varying stages of being packed.  Which is fine.  A little clutter here and there doesn’t stress me out too much.  I love that Todd’s siblings decided to leave it up to each family; if they feel like sending something, fine.  If not, no hurt feelings.  We may get to that; who knows.  My favorite packages are for Andrew and his companion.  I’ve never made fudge or peanut brittle in my life (I know), but I loved whipping them up for him.  And making his favorite pretzels.  As I stirred each pot for 15-20 minutes while the kids ran in and out, Christmas music in the background, feeling like Betty Crocker, I appreciated the moment.  That I could send him a little bit of home in a simple way.  That I didn’t feel pressure; it was fine if I didn’t get around to it, but it was fun to find a little window where it all worked out perfectly.  I think my lesson in all of this—the packages that we still haven’t sent, the fun foods I’ve thought of making but most likely won’t—is to not set definite expectations.  There’s very, very little that is an absolute necessity at this time of year.  Cards can wait till after New Year’s, some people don’t even plan to get a tree till Christmas Eve, those fluff Christmas books are still just as sappy if you read them at the beach in July, no one really needs neighbor gifts—just invite them over in February.  There’s just a lot we mistakenly think we need to plug into an already full month that isn’t really all that needful.  If I was able to find time to make some fudge before I mailed his package, great; if not, he’s got some Andes mints in there that we bought at Target.

I’ve made it a point to read those fluffy books I just mentioned.  Yes, I still read the news.  And my scriptures.  And inspirational stories and other stuff that’s good for me.  But why not take an hour out of the late evening and, instead of scrubbing the crockpot, take time to sit by the fire and indulge?  It helps curb any resentment that I might let creep in.  When I take a little nap or take five minutes to watch an inspirational Christmas message on the computer or just sit on my bed and talk to a friend on the phone (instead of multi-tasking), I feel like I’ve pampered myself, that I’ve filled my little bucket enough to be able to share with others.

Perhaps most surprisingly, I’m not worried that we aren’t being over-the-top spiritual anymore.  Another area where I can potentially (based on past performance) get my knickers in a twist.  Because of course, besides this being The Most Wonderful Time of the Year, it should also be The Most Spiritual Time of the Year.  And yet, like the shopping and the giving and the cooking for my family, I’ve learned that it doesn’t have to be more than the rest of the months.  It counts when we try all year long.  It’s ok if we’re not acting out the Nativity (that’s not our thing) or that we missed the First Presidency Christmas Devotional (we’ll get there) or that we just read short verses about Jesus’ life at breakfast and a Christmas story when we gather for prayer at night.  They all help bring us back to the point of it all: to remember how Christ lived.  To inspire us to be more like Him.  I don’t feel guilty at all for not making more of an effort, this works for our family.  I feel completely at peace with it.

Somewhere along the line a friend and I were talking about this exact thing.  Because I believe all good parents want to teach their children the important things in life.  And for many of us, that’s Christ.  So of course it’s natural to want to do more to emphasize our love for Him at this time of year.  But she mentioned a podcast and how it taught her to simply acknowledge the reason we do what we do during this season, to discuss the symbolism, the meaning behind it all.  When we’re taking in all the Christmas lights as we’re driving around, talk about why we even put lights up this time of year.  As we put up the Nativity, talk about what it might’ve been like, tell the story again, ask what they think about Jesus.  As we read a scripture, talk about how we can be more like Christ based on what we just read.  As the kids hang up candy canes, make a simple comment about their symbolism.  As we come across stories in the paper, mention some ideas of what we can do to help.  As we plan our gift-giving, talk about the first gifts that were given and how they show generosity and love.

I’ve noticed that the umbrella which I’m under this year is holding up better than in years past.  I feel more centered and calm and at peace.  I’m not stressed and anxious.  No, I still haven’t finished shopping.  Those stockings will haunt me till Christmas Eve.  You know we don’t do neighbor gifts.  The couple I did do were kind of over-baked cookies on plain white plates with Saran wrap, sans bow.  We forgot to make gingerbread men for the tree.  We haven’t done gingerbread houses for years.  Although trains pop up every now and then.  The calendar’s packed with all sorts of gatherings, concerts, company, lunches, end-of-the-year appointments, dinners, and a camp-out just to round things out.  I haven’t made a single sugar cookie.  Our elf needs more attention than I want to dedicate.  Just life in December.  It’s busy, it’s full, but it’s fun.

I feel good.  I know it’s because I’m letting God dictate what should happen next and nothing that I’m doing, certainly not because I’m ahead of the game or “ready” for Christmas.  I’m relaxed because I trust He will tell me what comes next.  I’ve learned that when we do our part to invite the spirit into our lives, we can be assured He will give us ideas, random thoughts, just the right way to handle something, resources to carry out His plans.  It’s not that I’m some spiritual Wonder Woman.  Or that I’m especially good at any of this.  It’s just that I know God is not frenzied and harried.  And if I want to feel His influence, I need to settle down and let the less-important things go.  Then I’m calm enough to recognize what He’s telling me.  I don’t even know if I could pinpoint what I’ve experienced.  Just an idea to call a friend out of the blue to do a family night together.  The inclination to stay up late with Todd and just talk and spend time together.  The stamina to have a houseful of football-playing-binge-eating kids all afternoon.  The where-with-all to host last-minute company; even with beds and food to think about, all I feel is overwhelming happiness and excitement.  The thought and time to go to lunch with some older friends.  An idea for a quick and easy last-minute gift for visiting teaching that would fit into my schedule.  A desire to take the family to a couple of new musical performances we haven’t been to before.  A prompting to take a risk, not having any idea how it will work out.  On and on, just simple ways I’ve felt the calming influence of the Spirit this season.

And so, even as I submit this summary of the season, I’m not sure how the whole of it will turn out.  It’s just a progress report, a few ideas that have helped tweak my thinking, that have brought me peace.  For most of us, Christmas remains the most magical time of the year, so many good memories from growing up are centered in family and Christmas.  The thought that I was ruining that for myself and my family crushed me.  But I like to be proactive and to make improvements.  My failures and stresses propelled me to move forward, to trust that God would direct me, even in something as simple as handling a holiday season.  Above all, He’s teaching me not to do more.  Just to do it with Him.