Pretty

     At the table here, I feel a bit like a writer in my robe having leftover quiche on this rainy morning.  The kids are sleeping in from their night out in Charlotte, listening to the music of popular Christian bands.  I read 'til 2 am after they thankfully arrived safely home.  The book is "Naked Surrender".  It's not what I thought it would be, advice on spiffying up lovelife; it delves much further, into the beauty of a clean soul.  I skimmed through it until my eyes couldn't focus anymore.  When I've finished my meeting with the book, I'll be sure to report revelational findings.
     For now, I'm thinking of outward beauty, but not the "hot" beauty.  I'm sick of hearing that word.  The overuse of it has caused me to banish it from the household.  I've told the kids, " 'Fine' is fine, but 'hot' is not."   What happened to "pretty"?
     Pretty starts with a smile and sunny disposition.   It helps that we've become adept at covering up our inadequacies and playing up our possiblities.  For most men, it's a good shave, teeth brushed, and "que sera, sera".   For most of US, it's fine tuning cosmetics and products while trying to buy American, regarding the push for all natural and cruelty free; catering to our mates' preferences, while remaining modest; staying on budget, or better yet, below budget; making time to customize it all (too much, too little?) not forgetting to check for zits, dry patches, and wild hairs; all while fighting the balance of vanity vs. doubt.   It's fun, and scary, to be pretty, because just when we feel pretty, someone will decide we're not.   That's when it matters that we know we're our best for that day, just what God created, and if we're married, just what our husband picked.   "Feeling" pretty is "being" pretty, guarding the best of ourselves and not giving up on it when we feel less than wholly loved.  I see women all the time who have quit on themselves.  I imagine them as the perfect little girl God created and am sad to see the damage that the lies of this life have done to them.  The lie is needing to be the "prettiest girl in the room" trying to attract the "cutest guy in the room" way of thinking we develop in school.  My good friend and I talked it over this summer; some people just won't get past it and let other people tear them down in the process.
     There are all kinds of reasons for not "being" pretty.  Sometimes we go "bad" when we're pretty.  I read last night about narcissism and it taking form in the desire to know we're wanted.  I've been guilty in my solitude of not necessarily wanting to perform the unmentionables but liking the knowledge that if I wanted to, I could.  That's what we do when we entertain the attention of others.  It's all completely selfish and discounts the weak condition of the other party's spirit and life.  Mind games and foggy conscience keep us in an unstable, dangerous state.  As importantly, we're kept in a useless state, knowing we shouldn't be giving advice to anyone else when we don't have control over our own thoughts.
     There is the not being pretty because we don't want to be moved or touched.  It's a false safe haven.  We can't ever be whole people without fully embracing our gender.  It's not always voluntary, but when faced with the facts of what we're doing and paying no effort to change, problems multiply.  Since Mike has left  4 or 5 days ago, he's only called me 2 or 3 times and those were of necessity.  December was hard for us.  I'm often dismissed when I'm premenstrual, but what does it mean when I'm still "mean" afterwards?  Where do we go after he's made so many changes, but doesn't care to acknowledge the changes I've specifically requested?  I've been concerned with the "absence" of the last days, but at the same time, at peace without the rollercoaster.  I'm different than I used to be.  At some point, emotionally alone became okay to me and no amount of coersion, good or bad, changes that.  He has given so much effort to showering me with compliments, gifts, surprises, trips, whatever I've ever expressed that I like (which isn't much).  He's struggled with roping me back in, I'm sure in fear that my heart would never return to him after it had pondered other company. 
    I woke to a message that in the wee hours of the morning, he was reading over and over a 5 page letter I wrote him 2 months after we met ...and that he again was sorry for the way he treated me over the years.   No amount of presents can compete with contrition.  When he lays his heart out on the table for me,  that's what stirs my emotion.  I don't need to feel superior to him.  I don't need him to pay for what he's done.  I just need to know we have a connection to grow on.  That's when I feel "pretty".  That's when I feel hopeful and not only like I'm the prettiest woman in the room to him but also that no "thing" is more important to him than a bond with me.  I "want" to be pretty when I know someone's world revolves around me.  Any less would be wrong.
     Pretty feet (despite my crooked toes) is a pretty pitiful place to start, but after Melody and I finished that "deluxe" pedicure and massage, I was on cloud 9.  I'm finding my way back to the girl God smiled upon.  I know I'm washed by the blood, but I scrubbed so much of my past off that I haven't, for fear of vanity and wasted time, been able to see the righteousness and richness of beauty:   "One thing have I desired of the Lord, that will I seek after; that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the Lord, and to enquire in his temple." Psalm 27: 4.  When I have revisited "pretty", I've found myself in the same old filthy mindset.  But I'm breaking free and by God's mercy, I'm staying there ...victorious, worshipping "the Lord in the beauty of holiness," 1 Chron 16:29.