Have you ever wanted to be beautiful? Or, if you’re a male reader, have you ever wished you were handsome? I’ll bet there isn’t one person reading this who hasn’t desired this at one time or another. As our culture grows more and more obsessed with physical beauty and perfection, the chance of living up to the ideal of the word “beautiful” gets slimmer and slimmer (pun intended).

Can you believe that there are actual beauty “experts” out there who think they have comprehensively defined what genuine beauty consists of for a woman? Here are the generally agreed-upon standards: the ideal woman should have large eyes, a small jaw, chin and nose, full lips, firm breasts, long legs, thick, shiny hair, a longish neck, white, symmetrical teeth that show approximately 1/4-1/2 inch when the lips are parted in relaxation, nicely arched and not-too-thick eyebrows, unblemished skin, and a waist-to-hip ratio of .7 or 70%. And I’m not kidding.

In just one day on television, dozens of infomercials play continually for Bare Minerals makeup, wrinkle-erasing cream, fat-cramming “shapers”, hair extensions, countless exercise contraptions that promise the perfect body in six weeks or less, and faster teeth whitening processes. The underlying message is always “if you can get closer to that ‘ideal’, you will finally be happy.”

I would like to suggest that true beauty has nothing to do with leg length or nose size or skin tone. As I grow older and gain a (hopefully) more wise and reasonable perspective, I think real beauty shines forth in a person who is refreshingly unaware of themselves.

We all know someone who isn’t stereotypically beautiful, but whose personality and demeanor is such that they seem quite lovely to us. We’ve all seen when someone’s inner beauty shines out through any plainness. And we don’t have to look far to see someone’s outer beauty being smeared with ugliness if conceit and self-focus are present with it.

Who wouldn’t like to have a spa treatment that massages away cellulite (ha) and banishes blackheads? Who wouldn’t try the newest mascara that promises the thickest lashes you’ve ever had? I know people who regularly endure some mild pain from chemical “lip plumpers” so they’ll feel just a little bit better about their mouths.

Colossians chapter 3 speaks of another way to beautify ourselves:

¹²Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. ¹³Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. ¹⁴And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.  ¹⁵Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace. And be thankful.

The kind of beauty described above is lasting, in fact it grows more noticeable and resplendent the older a woman gets and the longer she walks a surrendered, rather than a selfish path. Do I write of all this because I always live this way? Hardly. I am not immune to our culture’s influence, and I remember many years when really important life decisions were made because I was being extremely self-focused and vain.

I think each of us craves beauty in our lives in one way or another. We often try to fill our lives with beauty. How many of us like to decorate, to create beauty within the walls of our homes? How many love to garden, to paint, to play beautiful music? How many of us travel so we can experience new and breathtaking beauties we’ve never seen before? I also love the beauty of well-written words. We have an inherent love of beauty. God must love beauty too – He has filled His creation with myriad spectacular examples of beauty and grandeur, and He created us with a capacity to desire and appreciate it all, to tell us something about Himself. I believe when we see Him face to face we are going to be stunned by His beauty.

But our culture’s standards of beauty have gone awry, as described in that fatuous definition at the beginning of this post, and as we see every day through our media.

I used to like to watch the Miss America pageant when I was young. No matter what, I always rooted for Miss California. When I see those pageants today I’m filled with a mixture of amusement and sadness. I think back to the amount of time I spent (especially in my younger years) making sure I looked as good as possible, and wonder what kind of a woman I would be today if I had spent the same amount of time developing my inner life.

I wonder what a Heavenly Beauty Contest would be like. What would qualify someone for the sash and tiara in a pageant based on what God thinks is beautiful? Let’s use our imaginations here.

I’d like to describe some Heavenly Beauty Contest winners from years past. Picture this: the first contestant was very plain of face. She had thick ankles and her waist to hip ratio was approximately .95, meaning she didn’t even have a waist. According to one of today’s “beauty experts,” the many deep lines on her face would have made her a candidate for a surgical lift, but they also betrayed the fact that she had probably smiled hugely at least a million times in her life. She probably never knew the word “highlight” in terms of her hair. But I think the Lord thinks she’s beautiful, because she so sacrificially loved Him, and always brought His love and hope to whomever she was with, even in a hellish concentration camp. She brought true beauty into the world. Her name? Corrie ten Boom.

How about Contestant Number Two in our Heavenly Beauty Contest? She had very few, if any, of the characteristics of today’s “Ideal Woman.” She had a large nose, small, slightly crooked teeth, beady, close-set eyes, leathery skin. Her small frame wasn’t curvy or anything to write home about. She could have used some help on her eyebrows. I wonder how beautiful the Lord thought she was as He watched her give her entire life to serve and comfort the outcasts in Calcutta that few others would even touch. All because of her deep love for Jesus. You know who Contestant Number Two is – Mother Teresa.

And contestant number 3, or 4, or 26 or 187 could be that woman who lives right next door to you. Or it could even be you. I’m not saying we shouldn’t wear mascara or try to be physically fit. I love beautiful clothes and appreciate beauty in people. I’m just saying the vigorous pursuit of it doesn’t satisfy. It doesn’t last. It doesn’t bring peace to our souls or happiness to our homes.

What will I do today to bring true beauty into my home? Even though I don’t have all the answers, I know it all begins with the One who thought beauty up in the first place. I think I’ll start with Him. He’s the only One I know of who can deal with that hard-to-reach inner self.

There’s a passage in 1 Peter that says the godly women of old made themselves beautiful by putting their hope in God. I’ve seen this marvelously demonstrated in some women I know today. The women who calmly, joyfully trust Jesus, the ones who really put their hope in Him, radiate a beauty this world knows nothing about.

I think that’s where I’ll start today. I’m putting my hope in Jesus. How about you?

Thanks for all your input about what I should include next on the blog. It was actually a tie, so I chose which one to post, and it may come as a surprise.

I love Pico de Gallo, which in Spanish means Rooster’s Beak. You could call it a salsa, I suppose, but to me it’s just one of the most delicious, easy things to make, and it tastes yummy added to lots of foods.

Many of you probably have a recipe to this already, and mine won’t be a lot different than the thousand others out there on the Web. I’ve been craving this lately, maybe because we’re coming out of a long, dark winter, and fresh vegetables sound extra yummy to me right now.

Pico de Gallo (PEE-ko-day-GUY-o)

6 small, very ripe tomatoes, chopped (I like Roma)

1/2 medium purple onion, chopped very fine

the juice of one fresh, medium-sized lime

2-3 small, fresh jalapeno peppers, seeded, chopped very fine

1-2 cups fresh cilantro leaves, coarse chopped

1 small clove fresh garlic, finely minced

Kosher salt, to taste

Several grinds of fresh ground black pepper

So, you just stir all these ingredients together. That’s the recipe. Keep this stored in the fridge in a lidded container, but it might not last long – it doesn’t in our house. If you have children who might not appreciate the crunch, you can put this in a food processor and just pulse it a few times.

Consider serving huge spoonfuls of Pico de Gallo on baked potatoes, homemade tacos or burritos, nachos, scrambled eggs, open-faced sandwiches, on homemade pizzas, or Mexican casseroles. It’s really tasty as a simple dip, or added to ripe, mashed avocados, to make a fancy and healthy guacamole.

Es muy delicioso!

We Minnesotans know what it’s like to brave all kinds of weather as we go to the polls in November to cast our votes. We Minnesotans are fairly experienced with enduring electing all manner of people in high office in our usually left-leaning state. We Minnesotans also know what it means to wait for exceedingly long periods of time for important election results (i.e. the recent Senate race between Norm Coleman and Al Franken.)

Well, while we wait, I’m offering an opportunity for readers to cast their vote here on the blog and have it counted, accurately and quickly.

I have several rough drafts in the works, but am a little stuck. So I’m going to let you, the reader, decide what I should write about in my next post. Please look at the list below, decide what you would like to see on the blog next, and cast your vote by telling me your choice at the bottom of this post in the “comments” section. If you would like to remain anonymous, just tell me that when you leave your choice, and I will count your vote but not publish your comment.

1.  Last But Not Least (my 5th favorite book of all time)

2.  Letters in the Sand

3.  Denel

4.  Pecans in My Pocket

5.  Organ Lessons

6.  Ten-Minute Challenge

7.  Rorschach Towel

8.  The Best Rooster’s Beak

9.  “Bring Them Here to Me”

10. Once Upon a Toile

11. The Quest for Beauty

12. Night-time Ritual

13. “Yook at dat yake!”

14. Dixon

Polls are open now, and you don’t have to go out in the weather to make your voice heard. Polls close at 8:00 p.m. on Wednesday, March 18, 2009.

Blessings,

My son-in-law Jeremy recently put together a photo and video montage of their four children for me, set to a song I love. I have watched the little production on my computer several times, and of course the tears well up when I see how quickly time is passing and how my grandchildren are growing up right before our eyes.

Hearing this very familiar song again made me want to share it with you, even though you’ve probably heard it before. It’s really a masterpiece of simplicity and truth, in my opinion…an anthem for what life as a follower of Jesus is all about. All that’s needed for life in Christ is contained in these words. I hope you will turn up your speakers a bit, turn on the song, and scroll down and follow the words as you listen.

(Click on the dark red words just below, then once it opens, click on the play arrow:)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Untitled Hymn (Come to Jesus)- words and music by Chris Rice

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Untitled Hymn (Come to Jesus)

Weak and wounded sinner
Lost and left to die
O, raise your head, for Love is passing by
Come to Jesus
Come to Jesus
Come to Jesus and live!

Now your burden’s lifted
And carried far away
And precious blood has washed away the stain, so
Sing to Jesus
Sing to Jesus
Sing to Jesus and live!

And like a newborn baby
Don’t be afraid to crawl
And remember when you walk
Sometimes we fall…so
Fall on Jesus
Fall on Jesus
Fall on Jesus and live!

Sometimes the way is lonely
And steep and filled with pain
So if your sky is dark and pours the rain, then
Cry to Jesus
Cry to Jesus
Cry to Jesus and live!

O, and when the love spills over
And music fills the night
And when you can’t contain your joy inside, then
Dance for Jesus
Dance for Jesus
Dance for Jesus and live!

And with your final heartbeat
Kiss the world goodbye
Then go in peace, and laugh on glory’s side, and
Fly to Jesus
Fly to Jesus
Fly to Jesus and live!

Fly to Jesus
Fly to Jesus
Fly to Jesus and live!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

So, in case anyone’s paying attention, I would like this song played or sung at my funeral. 🙂

Waiting for my wings,

Thank you all for sharing your random things – I was hoping they would bring a chuckle and they certainly did. I have some funny and quirky readers (and daughters!).

Deb is this month’s bloggy giveaway winner, and will be receiving a gift certificate to amazon.com to spend on anything she likes. Maybe she’ll buy that new Kindle she wants and can use the certificate to download some books to read on that dock she’d like to sit on, listening to loons and the lapping waves, and wearing her Birkenstocks and eating guacamole while contemplating sleeping past 5:55 a.m. 🙂

Congratulations, Deb!

Here are some upcoming blog posts I’m working on:  “Bring them here to Me”, Pecans in My Pocket, “I want to ______ well!”, Organ Lessons, Night-time Ritual, “Yook at dat yake!” and Denel.

If I had my druthers….

…this would be our humble abode…

…and like these on our heather hills, we would lie down in green pastures…

…and my husband would have to start wearing this…

…and we would take a break twice a day for this…

…until our daughter (who sells wool yarn) coerced us into doing this…

…and we’d be so exhausted we’d need this each morning for our alarm clock…

…and then I would insist that my three daughters would come to visit us often so they could learn to do this….

…but that’s only if I had my druthers…

1.   Our office used to be bright yellow with lots of dark stained wood trim, and as of this week is now a soothing, light aqua blue with lots of creamy white trim.

2.   I made the best batch of guacamole I’ve ever tasted yesterday (will share the recipe if anyone would like it).

3.   I love Google Earth (have you looked at Mt. Everest, Lake Superior or even your own house with it yet? Scary, but so fascinating…)

4.   The temps were in the lower forties this week, so I wore my Birkenstocks outside.

5.   I am looking for a part-time employee who loves organizing paperwork.

6.   I’m reading the first novel I’ve ever read on my new Kindle (Enchanted April).

7.   I believe my seven grandchildren are the funniest, smartest, sweetest, most interesting people I’ve ever met.

8.   Michael and I think the book of Acts is very exciting reading.

9.   When I daydream, I think of living in a small house with a stone fireplace, of walking down a winding, wooded path in autumn, of yearly visiting the Highlands of Scotland, flocks of cardinals in my yard, deep blue Minnesota lakes, naps by a friendly fire, teaching, finally learning how to pray, the kindness in my husband’s eyes, experiencing a deep peace and abiding joy, and being still, so I can know He is God.

What are your nine random things? Or seven random things? Or three?

Leave a comment and you might be the winner of the March bloggy giveaway! I think I will actually use Random.org this month, so even if you’re the first to comment, you could very well win the prize.  🙂

I’m a pretty sentimental person, and I treasure the gifts people have given me. A ceramic fish made by my daughter Carolyn hangs in my office and all I have to do is look at it and my eyes fill. Cardinals in all forms perch all over my house, photos in pewter frames of people I love are placed everywhere, blue and white mugs by the dozen rest on shelves all over my kitchen walls, and books of all sizes are piled high and low. I’ll sometimes pick up a book and see the inscription penned inside by a friend twenty years ago, and let myself be transported back to that time of our lives. Or I’ll often choose a blue and white cup just because I want to think of the loved one that gave it to me, pray for them and “feel the love” as I drink from the item they selected just for me. I continue to be moved and grateful years later for the gifts that have graced my life.

I’m in awe of people who are really thoughtful gift-givers. People who have paid attention so well to another person, that they know just what to give them for a present. All three of my daughters are thoughtful and observant gift-givers; I am a terrible gift-giver so I don’t know where they learned this skill. I usually buy books or gift certificates for people and feel a little embarrassed that I’m not the kind of person who knows just the right style of wall plaque or tea towels or doo-dads that will go perfectly in each friend’s house. I don’t usually know what kind of earrings someone likes best, whether or not they still collect Fiesta-ware or Spode, and chances are I’m not sure what someone’s signature perfume is either. So when I see others who excel at this kind of attentive thoughtfulness, I’m always humbled and touched. I would like to be a more thoughtful gift-giver.

I received a gift recently that touched my heart so deeply I knew I wanted to write about it. It came in the mail, unannounced and unexpected; a wrapped package from my dear friend Kay, whom I met and have grown to love through Community Bible Study.

Kay has recently taken up knitting, and decided to make some scarves as gifts. I opened the wrapped package and lifted out a gorgeous, burgundy colored scarf, just the right width and length. The knitting was flawless. I wound it around my neck as I oohed and aahed, and reached for the card Kay enclosed. She wrote:

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Here is something
Made just for you

The wool was painted
By your eldest with care
I knit it with love
Each stitch, a prayer

This is when the tears began to flow, because I realized that Kay had made this scarf for me with yarn hand-dyed by my oldest daughter Sharon, who dreamed up and used to run a yarn business in Maryland, called Three Irish Girls. I sat down and examined it, fingering the soft and now doubly precious scarf, and pondered all that had to go into this moment. I pictured the yarn being meticulously hand-dyed in Sharon’s studio outside Washington D.C., and the thoughtfulness it took for Kay to order the yarn from Sharon, knowing it would bless me in such a tangible way. I envisioned Kay sitting evenings with her family in their beautiful lake home, with this scarf forming row by methodical row on her needles. And I was overwhelmed with awe and gratitude that my faithful friend prayed for me over and over as she crafted this rich and soft piece, which warms and comforts me in a way no other scarf does.

Living in northern Minnesota gives me ample opportunities to wear scarves, as we have cold weather a full seven months of the year. And now that I have short hair I reach for them even more. But this scarf is extra-special. I love everything about it. The colors, the feel, the size, the stitch, the dyer, the knitter…

And when I put it on, I feel wrapped in love and prayer.

I have several more serious blog posts I’m working on, but am just not in the mood today. So for fun, I thought I’d share something more lighthearted.

On my blog I have a feature that allows me to see what words people are using when they go to Google.com (or other search engines) and are looking for (or accidentally happening upon) my blog. I looked at it today and it made me laugh.

Most people reach this blog by simply typing www.JustJulieB.com into their browser field. Others tell me they have it bookmarked. I have bookmarked several good blogs that I love to read as well (take a look at some of them, listed directly to the left of this paragraph). Some people are still using Google to visit this site, and that’s just fine if it works for you.

But it’s clear that some people visit my blog completely by accident because they’ve typed in random words at Google, obviously looking for something much different than what they find when they click on any Google link to JustJulieB.

Here are some recent examples of the words people have used in Google searches, that inadvertently led them to this blog:

“German house” – I did write about living in Germany, but I’ll bet this wasn’t what that person was looking for.

“Schnauzer cold weather nasal” – well, Edith the Schnauzer does make a lot of nasally sounds when she’s sleeping, and we are having a snowstorm today, so cold weather does apply…

“Authentic Muesli” – I did post my favorite Muesli recipe a while back so hopefully they weren’t too disappointed when they found my version…

“Trees” – can you imagine anyone doing a generic search on a subject so broad as “trees” and ending up on this blog? 🙂

“Bleach scent addictions” – oh dear, this person was looking for help I can’t give them…

“Old age personality changes” – well, that one certainly rings a bell with me, but I’m not sure they found the geriatric/psychological help they were seeking…

“Just Jazzy Julie” – this is most definitely not the right Julie site for that person – to my knowledge, “jazzy” isn’t something I have ever been called…

“Big Picture Person Definition” – did this person hear a friend say, “I’m more of a big picture person” and turned to Google when she couldn’t find help in Webster’s? 🙂

“What does Jesus mean to you?” – they’re getting warmer – that is certainly something I’d write about and ask my readers to share about…

“Purple and orange sea slug” – this is one that many Google searches have sent my way recently – there must be an assigned paper that whole classrooms are doing on nudibranchs this week…

“Just Julie Entertainment” – yes, this is the company I will be founding soon, in keeping with my entertaining, energetic and overly optimistic personality…

“Do you have a life verse?” – one of the most common searches people use and end up on this site. Well, I’ll ask again – do you have a life verse? 🙂

“Lord of the Rings Bilbo flips out” – this made me laugh out loud. Who knows what the person searching Google thought when they accidentally happened upon this blog post at my site?

I don’t know what anyone else is searching for today, but I’m searching high and low for signs of God’s help and activity in my life and in the lives of those I love.

I’m not looking for it on Google, though…

Several months ago I received a disconcerting phone call. It was from the supervisor of one of the people we care for and have regular contact with, and she wanted me to know that T. had possibly been exposed to head lice. **Groan** Someone at T.’s work had lice, and that person’s coat had hung on the coat rack next to T.’s coat. So they just wanted us to know, so we could be aware. Because their coats had touched. Possibly.

Well, that was enough for me, and my mind went into overdrive. As soon as T. came home, I sat her down and started checking her hair and scalp. Mind you, I didn’t know what I was looking for exactly, but I thought if I looked closely enough I’d be able to see either A) little eggs, or B) a tiny live louse or two having a heyday. I didn’t find anything, but then again I wasn’t sure what to look for, so of course I went online and did some research. (A word of caution: if you like to sleep well at night, don’t go online and look at large magnified photographs of lice and their eggs.)

The more I looked, the more unnerved I became. We can’t get lice, not with all the people we have in our house! I checked everyone’s scalp and hair, looking for any sign of eggs. I checked pillows and blankets. I pored over hats and collars. Every little piece of dry skin, every flake of dandruff, each speck of lint on pillows I found, was scrutinized. Then I looked at more pictures online, but I still wasn’t certain I knew how to identify what I was looking for.

That evening, I started to itch. Badly. I scratched my head a little and tried to put thoughts of lice from my mind. That worked for seven minutes and then the itching grew in intensity and finally just became constant. I tried to look at my scalp by holding a hand mirror and standing close to another mirror, but I am “visually challenged” and couldn’t see anything but my own hair. By the time I went to bed I was certain that I, myself, had a massive and teeming lice infestation and soon the whole house would have to be tented and fumigated by a pest control agency. (As Dave Barry says, I am not making this up.) I was almost in tears. I had Michael look carefully to see what he could find, but he couldn’t see anything either. I slept fitfully that night and woke up just as itchy the next morning.

There were only three options, as I saw it. One was to panic and assume there were now billions of lice in every nook and cranny of our house, and head to the drug store to buy a case of nerve-toxic delousing liquid, and treat every person in our house immediately. Option Two was to try to use mind over matter, restrain myself from gouging and violently scraping my now-tender scalp, speak firmly and authoritatively to myself and say, “Julie, there are no lice here. Get a hold of yourself!  T. doesn’t have lice, her coat doesn’t have lice, you don’t have lice, no one else in this house has lice, and you can relax now and move on.” Option Three was to call my friend Carey.

I remembered that a few years ago, Carey’s young son had gotten lice. They found out that he got them by putting on a hat that had just been on someone else’s head who had lice. Now, everyone knows that lice like to pay social calls to the nicest and cleanest of people. Having head lice doesn’t mean that someone hasn’t washed their hair, kept their house spic and span, or made personal hygiene a top priority. Usually a lice infestation means that a person was in the wrong place at the right time, as in the case of Carey’s son. To the person who has lice, this is small comfort.

Well, Carey did everything a good mother would do. She treated her son right away with the lice-and-nit-killing shampoo, and then compulsively went through his hair with a nit-comb sixteen times a day for the next three weeks. She checked her husband, her other children, and herself. She found a couple of nits in her own hair, so then treated herself. She didn’t rest until she was certain the last louse and/or nit was dead and gone from her home. It wasn’t a fun time, and I remember feeling so sorry for what Carey and her family were going through.

But now because of her experience, in my estimation Carey was a Certified Lice Expert. The next morning I called and told her about the phone call from T.’s supervisor. Carey patiently explained to me what I should be looking for, how the nits were not white and round, but were slightly elongated and like teeny, tiny beige grains of rice stuck to the hair follicles. I got off the phone and searched again, but every microscopic light-colored fleck in my house now looked like a louse egg to me. My head was so itchy and I was growing more miserable by the minute. I finally called Carey back and asked her in a voice of quiet desperation, “Carey, can I just come over and have you look at my head to see if I have lice?”

“Of course you can!” she soothed, so I grabbed the car keys, waved to Michael and headed out. In the time it took for me to drive to Carey’s house, she had gathered and set up all the essential tools for detecting whether or not I was a lousy friend, and was waiting for me at the front door when I arrived.

She had this huge magnifying glass with a bright light attached to it, she had a chair set up under the light, and she had the nit-comb in hand, which she had needed for her son years before. I sat down in the chair and braced myself. Carey was a Certified Lice Expert, and in a few minutes I would find out if The Bugs of Doom had taken up residence on my scalp, and therefore my pillows, car, carpets, beds, house, yard and neighborhood. Carey parted my hair and peered closely. She parted it again and again and examined every part of my scalp, methodically and gently. And may I add, compassionately, because she knew what kind of a dither I had worked myself into. At one point she said, “Oh, Julie, you’ve actually scratched some raw spots on your head.” I thought to myself, blood and scabs I can deal with; lice I cannot.

After about twenty minutes of careful examination, Carey straightened up and announced that I did not have head lice. What relief! What a burden lifted! I could resume my life now, and I thanked Carey profusely for being the kind of friend who would drop everything to dig through a friend’s hair to hunt for blood-thirsty insects.

It took over a day for my nerve endings to get the message that it wasn’t necessary to itch anymore. Even though my mind was at ease, I found it interesting that it took some time for my body to follow. I checked everyone in our household again and never found anything, thank God. And I was amazed at the power of suggestion, how just a hint of the possibility of something brought real symptoms.

Carey and I have laughed about this little episode in our friendship, the memory of me sitting helpless in her living room while she hovered over me, digging through my hair. Even though it gives me the heebie-jeebies to think about it, I’m grateful for her. I know that she’s the kind of friend I can turn to when I’m really feelin’ lousy.

A few days after my scalp had quieted down and things were back to the blessed ordinary, I sent Carey this picture by email to express my appreciation for how she had ministered to me. Oh, we’ve gotten more than a few chuckles out of this photo! (That’s Carey on the left, and I’m the one with the white eye-shadow. I can’t remember who the other two are.)

I told her that it was a photo of the both of us, and I titled it “True Friendship.”   🙂