4 Ways to Cultivate a Healthy Attitude toward BEAUTY in our Daughters

"Beauty is only skin-deep."  

Inner beauty is of greater importance than outer beauty.

Every girl needs to believe she is beautiful.

Emphasize strong, capable, healthy bodies over physical beauty.

The above statements are just a few examples of the conflicting information we hear and read.  As the mother of a young daughter, I read the various articles, posts, and blogs regarding beauty with a thoughtful mind.  I want the best for my daughter.  What parent doesn't?

I want her to be ALL of the above --- strong, beautiful, confident, and healthy.  

But I also want her to be humble.  

So where is the balance?  What ought we to emphasize with our daughters?  How do we counter our culture's claims that beauty manifests itself a certain way only?  

1.  Compliment character more than physical beauty -- not only in your daughter, but in everyone around you.  If your children hear you commenting more on some one's generosity, kindness, or godly example than on her dress, hair, and weight, they will begin to understand the importance of virtue over vanity.

2.  Avoid complaining about your own physical flaws.  Children pick up on hypocrisy quickly.  If they see that we spend an inordinate amount of time worrying about our own looks, then no matter what we say to the contrary, they will get the message that beauty is of utmost importance.

3.  Teach your daughter how to dress, apply make-up, and style her hair according to her interest.  Does this advice seem to conflict with the first two items?  I think not.  We mustn't be like the Ascetics who despised the physical and only found worth in the spiritual.  Even the Bible speaks positively of Esther, Sarah, and Rebekah as being very beautiful women.  If we as mothers are involved in these beauty processes, we can steer our daughters to understated, modest application of beauty aids and styles while still allowing for and appreciating each girl's individual style. Some of my earliest memories and impressions of beauty are of my gracious and godly mother applying make-up in the morning.  Even though I anticipated the age when I would be allowed to do so, outer beauty never became an obsession with me as a teenager because the emphasis in our home was on character development rather than the physical.  In a large part due to this modeled balance of outer and inner beauty, I managed to almost completely avoid the beauty/diet craze until I went away to college.  When I see so many young teenagers in high school agonizing about dieting and fashion, my heart is so sad for them.  Teen years are hard enough without the added pressure and angst that emphasis on physical beauty brings with it.  I attribute much of my inner confidence and self-worth as a young adult to the lack of undue emphasis on external beauty during those earlier formative years of life.

4.  Comment on and compliment your child's strengths and uniqueness.  In observing current beauty trends, I've noticed an emphasis on uniqueness lately that is refreshing.  Teen models (while still too waif-ishly thin) are more "average" in appearance -- natural-looking and not cookie-cutter.  Asymmetrical features, uneven or gapped teeth, freckles, or even a pronounced nose are all acceptable even sought-after attributes by the agencies who want their models to "stand out" as different from the status quo.  While very little of mainstream beauty ideals should be paid attention to, this trend ought to be the way we teach our children to view themselves and other.  What makes a person unique is what makes her beautiful.
Focusing on and helping our children to see how their own unique qualities -- both physically and otherwise -- will assist them in developing God-given confidence and appreciation of His unique stamp on their lives.

4 Questions to Ask When Navigating Conflict in Marriage

Conflict in marriage.  It's inevitable.  The question is how do we deal with it?  Depending on personality, we usually veer one of two ways -- explode in anger or clam up and withdraw.  I admit my go-to response is to clam up and withdraw, and when that gets no response, then I unleash the torrent of pent-up words.

Of course, I do realize that's not the right way to handle conflict.

Also, once one has been married for more than a few years, one begins to feel like she's having the same argument over and over again.  As an analytical thinker, once I began to recognize this cycle in our marriage when it came to certain issues (every couple has their own unique "sticking point" that rears its ugly head occasionally, I'm convinced), I began to think about my response.  What should it be?  How do I not allow this particular issue to drive a wedge in our relationship while still addressing the concerns it raises?  (Anyone else been here???)

So I developed this list of questions to ask myself before bringing a particular issue to a head in full-blown conflict mode:

1.) Is there any chance I'm over-reacting, emotional for some reason other than the presenting conflict, and thus not thinking clearly?  If I'm not sure about this answer, I may wait a few days to see if I still feel as strongly.  Sometimes, things truly do look different in the next morning's light!

2.)  Is this a repeated occurrence, and if so, how long has it been since the last occurrence? Occasional errors and irritations happen to all of us.  I'm so thankful my husband doesn't get upset with me every time I do something he doesn't like!  I certainly want to return the favor to him. However, if it is a repeated habit or behavior, it's likely to happen again, thus should probably be addressed.

3.)  How has he responded to a discussion of this issue in the past?  Is is a particularly sore subject?  Or is he usually open to my approaching him on the issue (of course, depending on the tone  and tenor of my approach....)?   An area of conflict that is a particularly sore subject may require very careful handling, and certainly lots of prayer.

4.)  If not addressed, will this issue lead to bigger problems in our relationship? Or is it something fairly minimal that I can get past (even if it takes some work on my part)?
Honestly, this is the most difficult question for me to accurately discern.  I think "but it really BOTHERS me, so, of course, it's affecting our marriage negatively." But is it merely an irritation, a personality difference that I should just learn to overlook, to bear with patiently?  I rationalize, "but if I just let it go, then I'll start resenting him for it and then it will drive a wedge in our relationship and lead to a bigger problem."  And this is where I get stuck.  Resentment is a serious issue.  But is it MY heart issue, to wrestle out with the Lord or does it necessitate addressing with my husband?

All in all, these questions have helped me to clarify what is a true "We need to sit down and work this out" type of conflict and what I need to let go by God's grace.  While nothing permanently rids us of conflict while on this earth, I'm thankful for the Spirit of God Who continually refines us so that  we can become better, more gracious conflict-handlers by His grace!

It's your turn:  How do you handle conflict in your marriage?

Jacie's Milestones

Sometimes the days go by in slow monotony -- each day barely different than the one before.  Then sometimes -- BAM! -- a month or longer happens when every day is a new accomplishment, sparkling and special in it's own right.

March and April have been the latter for Jacie.  Major accomplishments.  A little toddler suddenly morphed into a long-legged, intellectual little girl.

The first major accomplishment was being toilet-trained. At just past three-and-a-half, she FINALLY got it.  All of it.  In public, at home, at school, overnight.  Just when I was beginning to fear that this nightmare of a process would NEVER end -- it clicked in her little brain, and now she never misses a beat.

The other major accomplishment of which I couldn't be prouder is that she's become an avid reader. Her interest in words, letters, and sounds (which I first noticed on her second birthday as she called out letters from signs we would pass on the road) has pushed her squarely into the world of reading. With very little formal teaching on my part and intense determination and focus on her part, she sounds out words in her favorite books and READS!  In the car sitting in the backseat, at home in the mornings in the living room, at night during family devotions, and any time in between  -- books excite her and draw her like a magnet.

In the midst of these changes comes a new maturity to her conversations as well.  Theological questions and conclusions proffered by Jacie just wow me: "Jesus is going to take us to heaven one day.  I can't wait to go up to heaven and see Him!"   When a recent Bible story made mention of Jesus going back to heaven to be with His Father, Jacie clarified, "But Jesus is the Father, too, because He IS God!."  How she's wrapped her little mind around the Trinity already, I'll never know!

Logic and explanation work very well with her.  Gone (in the main) are the emotional, unreasonable tantrums of a two-year-old. In her place, (much to my relief) is an easily-reasoned-with almost four-year-old.  Her curious mind is always at work (thus prompting the early reading), and she's a regular sponge for information, observations, and habits.  She absorbs the "rules" of life with alacrity and delights in directing others' behavior accordingly.

Along with the logical side, she has a penchant for creativity.  She prefers me to sing a made-up song to her over a real one, and she's constantly making up her own songs, dances, and play scenarios.  She loves to paint and to build.  Her favorite independent form of entertainment of late has been to create castles, towers, and various structures out of wooden blocks.

It's no secret that my April Accolade would be my daughter.  

But the enjoyment of these recent developments have left me 

breathless with wonder once again at 

the miracle of her.

Ecclesiastes and Hot Air Balloons

I'm reading through Ecclesiastes right now.  The commentator on the passages I've been reading continually remarks on the cynicism of the Preacher (the author of Ecclesiastes).  And, indeed, the theme of Ecclesiastes is expressed in its oft-repeated cries of "Meaningless, Meaningless -- all is meaningless!"  Essentially, the writer says that we work and we die -- this is all of life.  At this point the blog commentator pontificates ... "for those who are “under the sun” (Eccl. 6:12) and nothing more, what else is there? ...

We need a deliverer from outside our myopic horizons." 

(For the Love of God blog)

The image that popped into my head?  Hot air balloons.  Why is that?  I'm glad you asked.

As a young teenager, I remember lying on my bed in my sun-drenched room gazing up at the simple poster on my wall depicting hot air balloons against a deep blue sky.  The caption on the poster read, 

"Lord, life me above my own narrow horizons

 that I may fulfill Your true vision for me!"  

Inscribed so clearly in my mind is that poster because I would often ponder God's vision for me often as I lay there.  What would my life be?  Looking at that poster, I truly felt that "the sky was the limit." I loved (and still do!) the image of hot air balloons rising above the earth, catching the whole view from a bird's eye perspective.  

So when I read Ecclesiastes and when I get encumbered in the day-to-day, I'm glad for the vivid image of the hot air balloons rising high above, and I try to envision the big picture that God sees beyond "my own narrow horizon."

One of Those Days

Recently I had "one of those days."  You know -- the ones that this country song I love so accurately describes:

Kids screaming, phone ringing
Dog barking at the mailman bringing
That stack of bills - overdue
Good morning baby, how are you?
Got a half hour, quick shower
Take a drink of milk but the milk's gone sour
My funny face makes you laugh
Twist the top on and I put it back
There goes the washing machine
Baby, don't kick it.
I promise I'll fix it
Along with about a million other things

Preparing to race out the door in the morning for my class (fairly typical morning routine), I opened the refrigerator door to find creamer for my coffee --- only to discover that the last my of favorite creamer had been dumped somewhere in the deep recesses of the fridge and was now empty. Groaning, I grabbed my distant-second preferred creamer, poured it into my coffee and rushed out the door, late for class.

Hurrying home after class for Jacie's much-anticipated library time, I quickly dressed her and we raced out the door once again.  After library time, my complaining stomach reminded me that I had yet to eat that day.  Coffee alone was not cutting it any longer.  Calling Conroy, we agreed on a place to meet for lunch for some much-needed family time since he'd been away for the last three days at a conference.

During lunch, Jacie began complaining of a stomachache (perhaps some of you are beginning to see where this is going... ).  Alternately lying down on the booth bench and popping up to interject herself in the conversation, she wasn't a convincing picture of sickness; however, since I had underestimated her ability to diagnose herself before, I still watching her warily.

As we were wrapping up our meal, Jacie announced she needed to use the restroom.  I hurried her off to the bathroom and waited for her outside the stall.  After some time, I prodded her along, reminding her that we needed to leave soon.  As she reluctantly began to ease her way off the toilet, she looked pale and murmured, "Mama, I feel sick."  Urgently, I tried to convince her to put her head over the toilet. But a cry of "I can't" was immediately followed by spewing vomit -- in the opposite direction of the toilet.  The poor girl was quite sick, and I was at a loss regarding how to get to her and what to do next.  Finally, the vomiting stopped, and I managed to clean her up.  We carried her to the car and then drove home, where I changed her and put her to bed.

Later, after I'd cleaned myself up and was washing creamer off the kale, the lyrics from the song above floated through my mind.

Then I remembered the chorus:

Well, it's ok. It's so nice
It's just another day in paradise
There's no place I'd rather be


Two hearts; one dream
I wouldn't trade it for anything
And I ask the Lord every night
For just another day in paradise

And I chuckled to myself, despite everything, and remembered that I'm "living the dream," as I like to think of it.  Despite everything -- sickness, messes, busy-ness, and even the overshadowing cloud of infertility -- , my life is paradise.  God has been good to me and I have so much for which to be thankful.

And this crazy, sometimes unpredictable, ride-of-a-lifetime that is my life is my April Accolade.

** Song and Lyrics by Phil Vassar and Craig Michael Wiseman

Life is Better with a Friend

Where would we be without our friends?  They make the day a bit brighter, the load slightly easier to bear, and the journey sweeter.

I've come to value friendships differently over the years.  I've come to appreciate and accept my need for friendship.

I'm not one to seek out friends.  Chalk it up to introversion or just independence -- I'm comfortable reading by myself for hours; I enjoy strolling through shops, and even sipping coffee at a cafe by myself. I'm not too intimidated to see a movie by myself if I so feel the urge.

But I have found that life is sweeter with a friend by my side.  Yes, it takes a little extra emotional energy, and it takes planning and space and time.  But in the end, I always find that there is a soul-deep satisfaction to sharing experiences with another.  A heart connection often made when I least expect it.

And when I peek out of my shell and look around, I find, too, that good friends aren't as rare as I thought them to be.  Life has taught me that we all have our struggles, our insecurities.  Yours may look different than mine, but we all have them.

So why not share life together? 

Why not allow someone else to share in your joys and struggles as you share in theirs?  

You never know, you may just find a friend for the journey.

Five Minute Friday: "Writer"

The label "writer" brings to the fore all my inner qualms -- and my closely held dreams.

If I were to just talk about writing, that would be fine.  I can write.

But am I a writer?  

It's an aspiration. 

But then there are doubts.
Like, what do I have to write about?
Do I have the time, discipline, and calling to write a real book?
Is this the right season in my life?

 So far the answer impressed on my heart is "Wait."  

Wait  for the revelation.  

Wait  for the "due season."  

Wait.

So I write for my humble little blog.  And I store away my volumes of diaries and journals stretching back to the fourth grade.  And I mentally sort through various genres and subjects about which I could write -- one day.  But for now put on hold.

My Husband

Disclaimer:  I have been thinking about writing this post for some time; however, I have been reluctant to do so based on the very real fear that I will tread on an already sensitive area for many women.  I have been single so I know the pain of  reading/hearing others' accolades of their husbands.  I also know there are many women who struggle in difficult marriages.  I want my blog to be a source of encouragement, hope, and comfort.  The very last thing I want to do is to add insult to injury or salt to wounds.  So if you fear that will be you, please skip this blog post.

That being said, when the idea for "April Accolades" popped into my head the other day, I just knew I had to write this post.  The Bible talks about giving honor to whom honor is due. And the very subtitle of this blog references our love story and marriage.  So perhaps I shy away from the "marriage" aspect a bit too much due to a fear of being insensitive to others. 

ac·co·lade  (ăk′ə-lād′, -läd′)

n.        1.       a. An expression of approval; praise.

b. A special acknowledgment; an award.

2. A ceremonial embrace, as of greeting or salutation.

3. Ceremonial bestowal of knighthood.

tr.v. ac·co·lad·ed, ac·co·lad·ing, ac·co·lades

To praise or honor

One of the definitions of accolade and the history of the word comes from the idea of a ceremonial acknowledgment or award, even of knighthood.  Of all people, my husband deserves this kind of accolade. 

You see, to me, Conroy has been "Jesus with skin on." That's pretty much the highest praise I can offer, but it's true.   I know I didn't marry a perfect man, but the depth of love, grace, patience, and kindness Conroy demonstrates to me on a daily basis reminds me of Jesus.

I entered marriage with the very realistic expectation that it would take a lot of work. I even entered marriage with a fair amount of pessimism that we would soon discover previously unknown faults in one another, be annoyed by each other, and have to fight hard to maintain love, romance, and perhaps even friendship once we got past the "honeymoon" stage.  Such had been my general observation of most marriages. 

But none of that happened with us.  The first year went by and no sign of discontent, no grating annoyance, or lack of interest appeared. And I began to let it sink in that I had married a gem among men. 

When I say gem, I mean that Conroy is the kindest, most patient, most invested man I know. I could and do get mad over small, daily irritations, but he is unflappable.  I'm sure he must get annoyed at me, but in almost eight years of marriage, I've yet to see him express annoyance or irritation in any except the most mild-mannered rebuke.  And then I know I really deserve it if he says something.  He typically greets my occasional verbal rantings with calmness and grace, never retaliates in kind or holds a grudge.  I find this trait to be humbling and more convicting than a deserved lecture or retort.  

Life doesn't get him down and often I'll query in amazement, "That doesn't BOTHER you?!"  I get more upset on his behalf than he ever does in self-defense.  Headaches, rude people, insensitive comments, plans dashed -- all of this he takes in stride, calmly plowing on, showing love and grace in his attitude and behavior. 

In addition, Conroy takes our marriage seriously, and any request or complaint I have falls on receptive ears.  He takes to heart my opinions, thoughts, and reservations and honors our marriage and me by working at whatever the issue may be.  He is affectionate and fun, injecting life and humor and grace into our lives on a daily basis.  

I've known from the beginning that Conroy makes decisions carefully and wisely.  This trait was one of the leading factors that piqued my interest in him before we started dating.  Over the years of our marriage, I've come to respect and rest in his judgment on an even deeper level.  Just recently, I have been reminded again that every time he ends up acquiescing to me in a decision I'm insistent on, time proves that his hesitancies and inclinations were right, and that I should have followed his leading.  Yet he never takes me to task on those issues or displays any kind of "told-you-so" attitude.

Above all, he is my best friend.  We never run out of topics of conversation.  We discuss and debate theology, philosophy, current events, and ministry -- often into the wee hours of the morning.  He is the most interesting and interested person I know. Life with him is always an adventure, always fun.

I have been, and still fancy myself to be, an independent woman.  I could (and did) function without him.  But before him, by comparison, life was drab, colorless, and quiet; now it's full of life, color, and music.   

 I'm well aware of his faults, as he is mine -- just like any honest married couple.  But every day I can't wait to see him, and every day I feel overwhelmed with gratitude that I get to be in this life with Conroy as my husband. 

My Library Love Affair

I love libraries. This is no secret to those who know me well.

My library love affair began quite young. As a 5th or 6th grader, I remember walking to the nearest library after school in Horseheads, NY, from where my mother would pick me up.  I remember wandering the aisles of bookshelves, wrapped in that strangely sweet mixture of awe and warm comfort that fills me even today as an adult when I browse the bookshelves of my local library.

There in those familiar shelves that are so firmly ingrained in my mind's eye, I met such fictional heroines as Caddie Woodlawn, Polly Pepper, Jo March, and Sarah Crewe and non-fictional heroines like Harriet Tubman, Clara Barton, Florence Nightingale, and Laura Ingalls -- each of whom played an indelible role in the shaping of my life and character.  I imagined myself rising above imaginary insurmountable circumstances and bravely leading my siblings and friends to a better life through the varying situations and plots presented in the books that became my friends, my escape, my mentors.

In my early teen years, I found solace and outlet through organizing and running our small school library. In that little basement room, I shed tears, shared confidences, and found escape from the occasional monotony of the school day.  The library was my refuge and solace in the years of teen angst -- but yet didn't leave me wallowing in my emotions, but called me to higher thoughts through the introduction of true godly heroines like Joni Eareckson, Jim and Elisabeth Elliott, Isobel Kuhn, Dorie the Girl Nobody Loved, Mary Slessor, and Amy Carmichael.  Many a summer day, I would walk from our parsonage home and slip into the coolness of the church/school basement to find relief from the heat and from boredom in the intriguing worlds of Nancy Drew and of the Bobbsey twins.

Once I got my driver's license after my family moved to another small town, my new favorite library hangout became the town's local library quaintly situated in an old, historic home.  I read and reread the novels on the shelves, perused and wandered the cramped but comforting aisles of non-fiction biographies.  In that little library, I first read Memoirs of a Geisha and the Princess Sultana series by Jean Sasson revealing the true stories of oppressed women in various corners of the globe. I also fell in love with Grisham's legal thrillers, devouring the volumes owned by that small town library.

College libraries drew me as well.  Even though my time for pleasure reading was greatly diminished, I would still find time on a quiet afternoon to run my fingers over the titles of the less-frequented fiction section of our college library.  There I renewed acquaintance with Francine Rivers' works, reveling in her artistry in Redeeming Love, Pretense, and The Atonement Child.

Even while overseas in China, I frequented the tiny library consisting of a few shelves in a small supply room on the university campus provided for us American English teachers by our sending organization. The scarceness of English reading materials forced me out of my normal genre comfort zone and into the ascetic writings of Richard Foster in his work The Celebration of Discipline.  My spiritual horizons expanded, and I knew a greater depth in my communion with the Lord as a result of some of the tomes harvested from those dusty, neglected shelves.

Resettling back in upstate NY during my adult years and early married years, I became a frequenter of the small local library in Johnson City, preferring it over the larger more modern library facility in Binghamton proper just down the road. The homey nooks and crannies of the big, old, repurposed house suited me better, appealing to my sense of history and romance more than the florescent lighting and wide open spaces of its sterile, up-to-date counterpart downtown.  Those shelves introduced me to Ken Follett's Pillar of the Earth series as well as biographies of adult survivors of abuse, giving me a sense of compassion and understanding for lives very different from my own safe and sheltered upbringing.

As a young mother, the library has wooed me and won me yet again with the previously unexplored territory of the children's book section, with free preschool programs that my daughter relishes. At least once, usually twice a week, she and I are at the library. I carefully search for old, barely-remembered favorites and children's classics and browse for yet-to-be-discovered delights while she works puzzles at the child-sized tables or plays in the play area.

Even now, with the advent of increased technology, my beloved library has not let me down, offering electronic loans delivered straight to my Kindle or iCloud reader.  But still, still, I am drawn irresistibly to the endless rows of books in back corners of the downtown library. I can't suppress the urge to linger, letting my eyes and fingers gently, lovingly trace the bindings of so many volumes yet to be explored, adventures yet to be had, journeys yet to be taken, thoughts and ideas yet to be contemplated.

So if my husband is looking for me,

 if anyone is wondering where I might be on a rare free afternoon,

 try the library.