A Beauty that is Not False

In light of my recent post about beauty (Mirror, Mirror on the Wall), I wanted to share these thoughts again about a very special woman and the very important life lesson she gave me.

    Raising a daughter and three sons in a beauty-obsessed culture has certainly posed some significant challenges, but thankfully nearly thirty years ago I met a woman who embodied the very essence of beauty. Long before The Daughter was but a babe in arms, I found myself struggling to process the conflicting messages that bombarded me in this area.  How could a concept that has been so totally corrupted by man be redeemed? What did walking out redemption of an idea like beauty look like (no pun intended)? Could I truly embrace the truth that beauty emanates from the soul of a woman or a man as they mirror the image of the Living God as opposed to the cultural mandate that the reflection in the mirror is the most important representation of beauty? How could I not succumb to the seduction of a culture that cuts, carves, and transforms both men and women, but predominantly women, into objects that bear little resemblance to real human beings and furthermore, serves to sexualize them in abhorrent ways?  And perhaps most importantly, how in the world would I be able to teach my daughter and my sons what I struggle to understand, embrace, and practice myself.?
   And then I met a woman whom the Lord used to help me understand the concept of beauty in a powerfully transcendent way. She became the representation of the plumb-line to which I returned over and over as I struggled to redefine my ideas about beauty. Her name was Sadie Yoder, and she was the undoubtedly the most beautiful woman I have ever known.

Mom and Dad Yoder

She was also the godliest. She had a peace and a serenity that drew others to her like weary travelers to an oasis in the desert. Yet her outward appearance was in many ways quite ordinary, but her inner beauty, well her inner beauty was so extraordinary that it totally consumed her outer being. Raised in an Amish home, she was a woman who never wore make-up a day in her life and she certainly never invested a dime in any miracle creams that promised to mitigate, alter, or alleviate the passage of time. She was totally comfortable in her size 14 dresses. In fact, she was totally comfortable in her skin. Her skin was just that. Her skin. It was not who she was or what she was. It was the covering over the muscles and tissue and bones. It did not define her or empower her. It was simply just the covering for the tent. Each time I left her presence I came away refreshed and challenged anew to reorient my thinking to the truth of the gospel she so loved and embodied. I found her beauty and her faith compelling. She was absolutely gorgeous to me. When my daughter was little, she told me many times that she wanted to grow up to be like Sadie. I understood. I wanted to grow up to be like Sadie, too. I have been thinking about her a lot this week. Her beloved husband passed into the glories of heaven week before last, and the family gathered at the homestead one last time to lay the body of the man she loved with all of her heart into the ground. He was just as remarkable as she. The beauty she emanated is in no small part due to the steadfast love and faith that they shared. She was his beloved and he was hers. They were beautiful together.

Sadie as a young woman

     I am so thankful that before The Daughter and I had the inevitable teenage arguments about make-up, pierced ears, and the length of her dresses, we decided together that Sadie would be the hallmark and standard by which we would judge beauty. It was a good decision and one that helped to steer our discussions in the right direction. We would talk about Sadie and the fact that although she took care with her appearance, she was not consumed by a need to pursue a notion of beauty that was totally false.
    I am blessed to know many beautiful women, but what I find most beautiful about them is the strength of their spirits, the tenderness of their faith, and the genuine lack of artifice that they possess. It is never the size of the waistline or the lack of wrinkles on their skin. It is the way that they look when they smile or when they laugh with joy. It is the undeniable and beautiful glory of the heavenly Father I see reflected in them.
    Mom Yoder, I am missing you today. I am missing your beauty and how you helped me understand what the world could not. I am so thankful to have known both you and Dad. You made a difference in my life. I am comforted and encouraged by the thought that at long last you are worshipping together at the feet of the Beautiful Savior, Jesus himself.

A Little Levity on a Rainy Day

  My last post was heavy. I used up too many brain cells. Today, I just need to chill. And smile a little. Maybe laugh out loud. How about you? Here's some help in that direction...

Source: zsazsabellagio.blogspot.com via Kathy on Pinterest

Source: megaport.hu via Carolyn on Pinterest

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Source: cats-and-stuff.tumblr.com via Kathy on Pinterest

Source: odetomyabode.com via Dianne on Pinterest

Source: iruntheinternet.com via Marco on Pinterest

Source: hairstylerage.com via Carol on Pinterest

Source: pixdaus.com via Julie on Pinterest

Source: prelovac.com via Linda on Pinterest

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Mirror, Mirror on the Wall...An Important Conversation about Beauty

Source: google.com via Christie on Pinterest

  I've been toying with this post for the past year or so as it has been on my heart for sometime. This idea surfaces periodically, and I push it down, but it keeps coming back. I am taking that as a nudge from the Holy Spirit that I need to listen.
   The problem is that I have listened to the world for so long that it has substantially altered my thinking. I have bought into the lie. Now it's time to do something about it. I am taking what I am calling "The Pledge." God help me that I don't have to eat my words. I also am likely going to offend some of you out there, but this is too important. There is a great deal at stake here. Not only do we need to look at ourselves, but we also need to look at the messages that we, as women, are sending to our daughters and our granddaughters along with our husbands and our sons.
   This is the problem. We talk about beauty as if we believe that it comes from the inner character and soul of a person, but we don't live as though we believe this. In fact, we constantly define our idea of beauty by the culture's standard and by the most cursed object of them all: the mirror.
     Truth be told: when we look in the mirror, most of us are not happy with what we see. We moisturize our wrinkles until they cannot be moisturized away, and then turn to injections like Botox and Restylane to minimize the encroaching signs of aging. Others laser their damaged skin, subject it to harsh chemicals, sand it down to oblivion, or better yet, go under the knife to cut away or lift up the offending portions. Just thinking about all of this deeply saddens me. Why are we doing it to ourselves? What is so offensive about aging? And if we start subjecting ourselves to these procedures, how and when will we stop?
    My intent here is not to castigate, vilify, condemn, or shame any woman who has resorted to any cosmetic procedures. Instead, I want to encourage us to begin an honest conversation about the struggle that most of us face with regard to aging. We could begin by telling the truth. Let's not lie about what we are doing to circumvent the passage of time, whether it be so simple as coloring our hair to hide the gray or having that eye-lift we've dreamed about. And let's drop that critical appearance-driven-standard that we apply to every woman we encounter over the age of 40. Let's be honest. Most of us are quite adept at secretly judging other women for the size of their hips or the depth of their crow's feet (or even the lack thereof) behind their backs, all the while subjecting ourselves to countless diets and other fads to keep the sweet bird of youth firmly in our grasp.
   The irony is that when we start grasping for that youthful girl we once were, she is already long, long gone. In our culture we no longer talk about aging gracefully the way that we once used to, and I am deeply saddened by this. We know longer look at a woman with gray hair and widening hips and celebrate the woman that she is...instead we look at her and pronounce judgments about her external appearance. Instead of celebrating the lines that time has etched on her face, we disparage them.
   Not too long ago, I heard a woman say about another older woman, "Boy, has she let herself go." I asked her what she meant, and she said, "Well, she obviously hasn't taken care of herself. She doesn't see a dermatologist or surgeon...that's for sure."
   Wow. And neither do I.
So here is my pledge.
    No matter how far my face slides down, and no matter how much pull gravity exerts on my neck, my boobs, and my stomach (to name but a few areas), I will NOT define myself by reflection I see in the mirror, nor will I judge others by their reflection either. I pledge to look for the beauty within each woman I encounter and to embrace and celebrate what I find. I do not plan to have surgery, inject myself with Botox, or other fillers, laser my skin away, or sand it down to nothing, but I will not excoriate those who do. I simply want us to have an honest dialogue about the culture's notion of beauty and how manipulative and destructive it has become and to believe that there IS another way to age.
   Trust me, I am constantly tempted, but I keep coming back to what I believe God says about me. And it has nothing to do with the way that I look in the mirror.
    It's not the procedures that are so vile, it's what they represent to aging women. It is a deep and profound unkindess that we are doing to ourselves. We are not loving well, not one another or ourselves. We are buying into the lie. And I am vowing to try to turn the tide that threatens to overwhelm me at times.
   Aging gracefully means accepting myself for who I am in the mirror as well as who I am on the inside. And certainly who I am when no one is looking.
    It's hard to be real. It is difficult to choose the authentic self. Everything about this world since Eve ate the apple has been about covering up. Not just our private parts, but our true feelings, our emotions, our pain, our struggles, our hurts. We want to look good.
    I know. I battle this. Every. Single. Day.
    I battle this when I go up another pant size, when I find more wrinkles around my already wrinkly mouth, or when I get dressed up to go out and can hardly find my eyelashes anymore to even apply mascara.
    Daily I struggle to bring my thoughts captive to a God who tells me that I am fearfully and wonderfully made in His image. And He is talking about not just on that day that I was born with my new, soft skin, tiny hands, and tiny feet, but also NOW with my dry skin, my pimply more than middle-aged chin, my sagging crepe neck and my crows' feet. NOW. He finds me lovely NOW.
     I really want to believe this. My heart longs to believe this. And I wager so do most women out there. We do not want to be defined or confined by the image in the mirror. We long for validation and beauty that emanate from the inner soul.
    The issue is: Can I dare to find myself lovely? Can I let go of the corrupted vision of beauty that woos me with its promises of a younger self? Am I willing to be an almost 60 year-old-woman who is so thankful to not be 25 or 35 or 45 anymore? Am I willing to be content with who I am?
    Pray with me and for me that together we can stand and proclaim that God is not lying when we says that "Charm is deceitful and beauty evaporates, but a woman that feareth the Lord shall be praised."
   I want to embrace the Lord's vision of me. I want to look into His eyes to see myself rather than defining myself by my own flawed and aging reflection in the mirror. I want to mirror Him.
 
"...inwardly we are being renewed every day..."
I am daring to believe that He does not lie.
I am choosing another way.

And What to My Wondering Eyes Should Appear

Hands down my favorite Christmas Eve moment...

It doesn't get much better or more magical than this.

Little Two's Christmas with Nonna and Pappy

   It felt like at least three Christmases around here...not that I am complaining, because I loved every moment of it all. There is nothing better in my book than having family come, and come, and come again. This is the year that Little Two and her parents travel to Birmingham to be with her other set of grandparents, Big and Mimi, who love her every bit as much as we do, I might add. Before she left town, Little Two came over one afternoon to decorate her Gingerbread House with Nonna, and then the evening before they headed South her parents joined us for a stromboli supper followed by a gift exchange. Little Two's main present (her Momma helped me select this!) was an incredible pink teepee! It was a HUGE hit!

Favorite Things....Yet Again!

   The Ish Girls Bible Study got together for our annual Christmas dinner, and in lieu of an ornament exchange or something of a similar ilk, we decided once again to have our "Favorite Things Party." After seeing this idea on Pinterest a couple of years ago, we have come to totally embrace the idea, and have opted to do the party, not once, but twice each year. It seems as though we might never run out of favorite things!
    Seeing someone else (whom you have come to love and appreciate) share her idea of a "favorite thing" is both enjoyable and revealing. You learn about the way a person gives gifts, what they like to do in their spare time, and what intrigues or engages them.
    We ate dinner together and then gathered in the family room to share our little gifts with one another. As an aside, we set an $8 limit for each gift. I ended up with some wonderful gifts that included a pair of comfy socks, an exciting new book to read, a craft, delectable treats from Trader Joe's, lovely little muslim bags filled with a lavender and oatmeal bath soak from Thistle Farms, a bottle of red wine, and a tiny little bundt cake in an adorable little box! It was so much fun! If you've not done this with your friends, I encourage you to give it a try! We always have a ball!

We always celebrate birthdays when we gather, hence the cupcakes...
except these are little bundtinis from Nothing Bundt Cakes!

The Red Velvet is my favorite!

Snowflakes sparkle in the candlelight. Sometimes an all-white winter
table is just the thing to serve as a counterpoint to all the red and green!

   

 Love the Ish Girls!

Christmas Card 2012 and The Husband's Christmas Letter

    Merry Christmas from the White Family....

Thanks once again to the marvelous
Emily O. Holmes Paper Lovelies
for our card design!

On another note...

The Husband works for an incredible organization, Pinnacle Bank, that allows him the freedom to send his Christmas reflection to all 750 bank employees each year. It is a special gift that he does not take lightly. I look forward each year to reading what he has written. Here is this year's letter sent just before Christmas:

Christmas Blessing 2012

We are now in the season of “Advent” and with it comes that sense of joyful excitement that Christmas Day is just around the corner.  The word “Advent” itself denotes great anticipation and expectation with the Latin word adventres translated as “coming,” while the Greek word for Advent, parousia, is usually associated with the arrival of royalty.  For us it represents a great sense of “yearning” as we prepare to greet our King.

At the same time, while the traditional sense of excitement and joy is certainly present as we prepare to celebrate one of the two most important (in my opinion) days in history, I must confess that for me there is also a sense of numbness; of sorrow; and lingering mourning which I continue to feel.  Needless to say, the events of last week in Connecticut have shaken people to a level of disbelief possibly never before felt as we contemplate the loss of twenty beautiful young children to a tragic act of both terror and evil that so clearly reflect the fallen state of mankind.  So as I have continued to contemplate these young children and the families who have been devastated by this act, I have begun to realize this is a perfect example of why we celebrate with such great exuberance the birth of the Savior on Christmas Day.  For it is for times such as this that He has come to be among us.  He and He alone is the Master Healer of the wounded of heart; the Prince of Peace; the source of comfort and joy that ultimately supersedes our worldly circumstances.

Born in a obscure village to a peasant woman, Jesus came into our world of pain and suffering through Mary – who suffered the physical agony of childbirth with no pain relief; He was born in the cold of winter with the cleanest thing around Him being the hay covering the floor.  Christmas is about joy, but it is a joy that is reached through and never drifts far from human suffering in a fallen world where this precious Messiah would ultimately redeem our sin and our suffering.  As confusing as it may appear to be, how special it is to know that Jesus came to Earth amidst suffering for the ultimate expressed purpose to suffer because we suffer.  His love for us is so great that His purpose and desire was and is to remove eternal suffering from all who come to Him and proclaim Him as Lord.  As with the recent Connecticut deaths, let us not forget the infanticide that Herod ordered when he killed all male children under the age of two.

It is difficult for me to fathom the transformation which Jesus endured in leaving the glorious perfection of Heaven for a manger in the cold of winter.  Even more so, knowing that his place of birth was prophesied in Micah 5:2 seven centuries prior to this day we celebrate next week – it is indeed amazing that he was willing to leave the glory of paradise to become poor so that we could become rich in eternal things.

In times as we have recently experienced, we may be tempted to cry out to God in anguish and accuse Him of a sense of aloofness – of not answering our questions and our pleas for answers.  And yet we must only look to the story of Lazarus and the confusion which surrounded his death to see two of the most powerful words of the Bible in John 11:35: Jesus wept.  So rather than a sense of separation, we see tears that represent something so different.  While having the power to stop, reverse, or allow any action, God’s wisdom suggests that He keeps specific things from us in order to determine our real trust and faith in Him.  As in the case of Lazarus, He enters into our grief and sorrow as an example of perfect love – showing us that it is okay to have a sense of a broken heart as evidenced by sorrow and weeping.  By His birth on Christmas and living amongst us, He gives us not simply answers to our questions, but much more – He gives us Himself.  He gives us His tears; He gives us His anger at needless tragedy and repudiation of His commands; and most importantly, He gives us His Hope.  In our deepest sense of despair, He offers us not simply consolation, but far greater, He offers us resurrection.

Because Jesus was born into humanity, He opened the door to eternity for each of us.  Let us not be consumed by the gifts – giving and receiving.  Let us not merely celebrate Christmas, but instead know that we are celebrating Christ – the joy of a loving Christ presented to you and me as a gift through the grace and mercy of our Heavenly Father.  I encourage you, in the midst of whatever trial, challenge, or disappointment you face – to hold fast and firm to the joy and wonder and glory of it all – the Emmanuel, God with us!  The Christmas story is the ultimate rescue mission – Jesus coming to earth offering us the opportunity to be free from whatever enslaves us.

“Praise To The King of Kings
You Are My Everything
And I Will Adore You”

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!