♪ I feel pretty, oh, so pretty... ♪
This is me, feeling pretty, after I've just been announced as the winner of my high school beauty pageant. (Let's not go there with how many years ago this was!) 
I was still recovering from a serious illness when I competed in this pageant. I, who was a never-miss-school kind of girl, had missed six full weeks of school due to a wicked case of mono with just about every complication known to man. I became a teaching case at my doctor's office, and she called in nurses and physician's assistants to let them learn on me. {Oh, joy!} Mono is a virus that must run it's course (no meds will speed up the process), but I was in the doctor's office every week with a new complication: I had strep throat and my tonsils swelled so much that they were touching in the middle; I had such a severe ear infection that I completely lost my hearing for weeks (even after I'd returned to school); I had an unexplained rash; I had some weird microorganism that was eating and thriving off the antibiotics I was taking, so they had to give me something to kill that plus a stronger antibiotic (I lack details because this was when I couldn't hear); and this was when I was officially diagnosed with asthma after days of non-stop coughing (my mom felt terrible that I'd gotten so bad, but we didn't know I had asthma and didn't know what to do about it). I say all that to make the point that I had been very ill, and was still far from feeling like my usually perky self. Just drying my hair after a shower still wore me out, but I did this pageant anyway because it was important to me.
Back in those days, I did some modeling (and a few pageants, obviously), and that was tough because models are more frequently rejected than hired. Much of who I was and how I thought of myself depended upon my being pretty, though I would not have admitted that then. My self-esteem could be made or broken by what the rest of the world thought of me.
Many things on the outside have changed since then: recently I've discovered that my elbows are wrinkly. My hair is not glossy and my skin does not glow. My abs--they are not taut. I'm developing crow's feet and I'd really like to know what is up with having pimples AND wrinkles at the same time!
But my thinking has changed, too. Oddly enough, despite all of those outer changes over the years, I actually feel more attractive now than I did back then because I've learned that it's not about outer beauty. I am comfortable in my own skin because I've learned who I really am--and who I am doesn't depend on having perfect abs or flawless skin. My husband thinks I'm beautiful, and that's because he loves me--and he loves me just because I'm me.
I was still recovering from a serious illness when I competed in this pageant. I, who was a never-miss-school kind of girl, had missed six full weeks of school due to a wicked case of mono with just about every complication known to man. I became a teaching case at my doctor's office, and she called in nurses and physician's assistants to let them learn on me. {Oh, joy!} Mono is a virus that must run it's course (no meds will speed up the process), but I was in the doctor's office every week with a new complication: I had strep throat and my tonsils swelled so much that they were touching in the middle; I had such a severe ear infection that I completely lost my hearing for weeks (even after I'd returned to school); I had an unexplained rash; I had some weird microorganism that was eating and thriving off the antibiotics I was taking, so they had to give me something to kill that plus a stronger antibiotic (I lack details because this was when I couldn't hear); and this was when I was officially diagnosed with asthma after days of non-stop coughing (my mom felt terrible that I'd gotten so bad, but we didn't know I had asthma and didn't know what to do about it). I say all that to make the point that I had been very ill, and was still far from feeling like my usually perky self. Just drying my hair after a shower still wore me out, but I did this pageant anyway because it was important to me.Back in those days, I did some modeling (and a few pageants, obviously), and that was tough because models are more frequently rejected than hired. Much of who I was and how I thought of myself depended upon my being pretty, though I would not have admitted that then. My self-esteem could be made or broken by what the rest of the world thought of me.
Many things on the outside have changed since then: recently I've discovered that my elbows are wrinkly. My hair is not glossy and my skin does not glow. My abs--they are not taut. I'm developing crow's feet and I'd really like to know what is up with having pimples AND wrinkles at the same time!
But my thinking has changed, too. Oddly enough, despite all of those outer changes over the years, I actually feel more attractive now than I did back then because I've learned that it's not about outer beauty. I am comfortable in my own skin because I've learned who I really am--and who I am doesn't depend on having perfect abs or flawless skin. My husband thinks I'm beautiful, and that's because he loves me--and he loves me just because I'm me.
"Charm is deceptive and beauty is fleeting,
but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised."
Proverbs 31:30
Just about anyone can turn on the charm, and it doesn't necessarily have anything to do with who he or she really is. There are scores of beautiful women in the world, and plenty of surgical enhancements and medications to improve their outer beauty, which truly is only skin deep.
When I picture the women I think of as truly beautiful, I think of a friend with a genuine smile and a kindness that you can see in her eyes. I think of an elderly neighbor I knew (now gone to be with Jesus) who, even in her eighties, lovingly tended her flower garden every day and volunteered to take meals to the shut-in "old folks" in her church congregation. I think of the glow of an expectant mother who knows what a blessing she carries in her womb. I think of the awkward teenager who shows respect to her elders and willingly spends time with her young siblings. I see the laugh lines of my smiling friend, the age spots of my elderly neighbor, the swollen ankles of the pregnant mother, and the mouth full of braces on the teen girl, and I know the world tends to think of those things as "flaws," but they don't detract from the beauty I see in them. In my opinion, those so-called flaws add to the beauty of these precious women.
I hope those who know me think of me as beautiful, not because of what may or may not be on the outside, but because they can see Christ in me. Let's make a point of looking for the true beauty in the women (and men) around us--and that includes those times we look in the mirror.
When I picture the women I think of as truly beautiful, I think of a friend with a genuine smile and a kindness that you can see in her eyes. I think of an elderly neighbor I knew (now gone to be with Jesus) who, even in her eighties, lovingly tended her flower garden every day and volunteered to take meals to the shut-in "old folks" in her church congregation. I think of the glow of an expectant mother who knows what a blessing she carries in her womb. I think of the awkward teenager who shows respect to her elders and willingly spends time with her young siblings. I see the laugh lines of my smiling friend, the age spots of my elderly neighbor, the swollen ankles of the pregnant mother, and the mouth full of braces on the teen girl, and I know the world tends to think of those things as "flaws," but they don't detract from the beauty I see in them. In my opinion, those so-called flaws add to the beauty of these precious women.
I hope those who know me think of me as beautiful, not because of what may or may not be on the outside, but because they can see Christ in me. Let's make a point of looking for the true beauty in the women (and men) around us--and that includes those times we look in the mirror.
