Tag Archives: Inner beauty

You’re Going to Wear That?

Posted on by under Choices, Emotions, Inner Healing

Journal 2005. While I obsess over what I’m going to wear at my next school reunion, my mind hopscotches over the years to comments such as:

  • You’re going to wear THAT?
  • Are you pregnant?
  • What an ugly lime green dress!
  • What were you thinking!
  • Your skirts are too long.
  • Those colors don’t match.
  • You could be pretty if you would just . . .
  • Why can’t you dress like . . . ?
  • Frumpy Missionary Kid!
  • You look like a cowgirl.
  • You wore THAT at your wedding?
  • You have no sense of style.
  • Let me fix your makeup.

How powerful words can be! Even when I dress up, I feel frumpy on the inside. Lord, have mercy on me if my words have ever hurt another person.

Why should other people’s opinions matter? First, I guess they want me to care. And I do—to a certain extent. But sometimes I don’t. I can’t live my life by other people’s standards. Who gets to decide, anyway, what is fashionable or ugly? What’s fashionable may not look the best on me. While teens and pre-teens go through their identity decisions, their wardrobe choices may look strange to me, but they fit into their culture of acceptance.

I find I shop best when I have someone along to give an opinion. Why don’t I trust my own judgment? My family would say it’s because I don’t have good taste. But why does one person get to decide for another what clothing is acceptable or not in society? Who gets to decide what’s in and what’s out?

My sweet mom

Do I dress to match who I am on the inside? Or do I dress to cover up what’s inside? Maybe some of both. I dress comfortably—I learned that initially from my mom but reinforced it through experience. If I’m uncomfortable, my focus is on self. On the other hand, if I dress casual when the situation calls for formal, I stick out. My philosophy is to try to blend in and avoid extremes.

The visual: I’m on a stage in the center of a spotlight, and the audience is laughing at me. But then I hear, “Man looks on the outward appearance, but God looks on the heart.” The spotlight fades, and a strong beam shines into my heart revealing the impurities as well as the lighter spots where truth has entered. Better to be more concerned about getting rid of the dark spots than worrying about the body, which is now hidden in shadows.

Clothing is just an outer shell, but if it draws attention to itself instead of to the light inside, it may be time for a wardrobe makeover, both inside and out. Perhaps I should ask the King of Kings about His opinion rather than my family’s or my peers’.

A 2022 Focus. My insecurities about clothing choices have faded with the healing of hurtful words. I now understand that comments reveal more about the heart of the person who said them. But I also acknowledge the benefit of a second opinion when I go shopping. Anyone care to go with me?

On Growing Older

Posted on by under Emotions, Peace

From My 2009 Journal. I asked my mom one day what it’s like to grow old. “Growing old happens so slowly you don’t notice it” she said. But when you look back through photos or the pages of a diary, it’s startling to see the contrast. You expect to look young in your school yearbook photos. You’re supposed to look like a child or teen. The change from child to adult is drastic.

From ages 25-50+, however, I felt no different. Adult is adult. But now when I look at those early adult photos, I realize how young I really was. Enough time has passed that I can see the huge changes that have taken place in my body, and suddenly I feel dissatisfied. Age has never bothered me before. Why now? What am I seeing? I see the squareness of my face and the wrinkles in the neck, and the post-pregnancies stomach.

Do I need to go back to my Bill Gothard notes and stand in front of a mirror and admit I don’t like the way the Lord made me? The funny thing is, when I look in the mirror, I don’t actually see it. It’s when I look at those early pictures that I notice the contrast. Why do I suddenly feel ugly? Why so obsessed with the physical,  the outward appearance? I know our bodies are wasting away, but what of the soul? Am I growing more beautiful on the inside? Or uglier? How can one tell? It’s intangible, hidden. I think I’m growing. . . .

Okay, here’s the visual of what I’m feeling. Age is like a rose. The unopened bud is childhood and the full bloom is middle age. But now I’m at the stage where the petals are starting to droop and wither. It’s the second half of the life cycle. Soon the petals will begin to detach and flutter to the earth. How do I feel about that?

I see the tree in our front yard, heavy laden with pink blossoms till a storm comes and shakes them all to the ground. And it literally rains petals. It’s breath-taking, beautiful, soul-filling. They’re pretty on the tree, yes, but it’s an emotionally moving experience watching them flutter to the earth. My soul and spirit can soar even if my body can’t. Age has its own beauty, and I am content.

 

Pink flowers 2