Thoughts on Age and Beauty

I'm finding that with age, beauty comes along with it. Not just because smile lines around my eyes mean that I've experienced joy, or sun spots that used to be considered freckles reflect sun kissed moments - what I mean is that with age, I am learning how to allow myself to truly embrace my beauty. The beauty that was there all along, but I allowed comparison, and "I'm not enough", and all the other lies to cast a shadow on--that beauty--I can see it and I can feel it more than I could ten years ago. With age, I am better able to appreciate what it is that makes me uniquely me. Beauty comes with the years I add to my life, because with age I am more equipped able to ward off lies that try to tell me I'm not something. When really, I am something -- something beautiful. Someone beautiful. Inside and out.

And you know what? It's taken time and a transforming of my heart to see it. But I'm finding that with getting older, and with a community of women who focus on true beauty (like Natalie, Anne, Allie) rather than all the rest of superficial things that this world can focus so closely in on, that I'm welcoming age with open arms because wrinkled hands and a grey hair, to me, means a straighter aligning of my understanding of the beauty that is within. The beauty that really matters.

photo taken by Jenna, in Breckenridge after a Spring mountain adventure in which I felt truly alive and beautiful despite dirty hair and freezing hands

The Past, Latched Windows, and Forgiveness

I used to be so vulnerable to my past being a stumbling block in my every day. I was like a tiny little house, sitting on the prettiest lot, painted a crisp white with a vibrant blue door, with wildflowers growing along the path leading up to it, sunshine warming its exterior, visitors knocking and leaving treats on the front stoop--yet, I couldn't see it. With the windows latched shut, the door unanswered, my past hung around inside its sturdy walls--that, the only view to be seen. I didn't fully know of the beauty to be had in the every day. I might wander out, outside of this little house I created within me, see the delicate blooms, feel the warmth of the sun, and look like I fully knew of these simple joys; but what a sad picture of my heart one would truly see. All of these life giving things, the view outside, and the people who loved me: all of that juxtaposed blurry and in the background, while the collection of hurt, and guilt, and those heavy past burdens stood all so clearly in focus at the front of my heart.

And so, I'd wander out, but I'd always go back to my tiny little house, or remember what was stored up inside while I was away, behind those closed doors: pressing against latched windows, fogging my mind and tying up my ability to live freely, fully in the moment, openly to forgiveness, all stealing my ability to know joy as it truly truly is. I'd wander out, but at the end of the day, the tiny little house that I created within me was still there just filled with the collection of hurt from others, lies I created about myself, and anxiety from my past. It was there, and that house stayed, and I could not shake it.

The building blocks of this tiny little house in my heart appeared in those days when teenage awareness transitioned to young adulthood, and life slowly switched from the simplicity of childhood and the wild and free feeling of being a young girl (what my childhood was) to a jig saw puzzle of love and heartbreak, adolescent regrets, the pain and longing of wanting to feel fully wanted as a my father's daughter, self-criticism, and changes in acceptance: so many of which are tied to body, and image, and success (or what we label it as). As I navigated all of this: relationships with boys, awareness of my self, stark realities of life and sin, absence of what I wanted in my relationship with my dad, the changing of friendships, trying to fit in, and even stretching into self criticism as a newly married woman, those lies staring back in the mirror, the battle of the mind (I could go on), and all the muck that comes with that package--I learned how to hold on to it all. I learned how to take even the most subtle detail of my past and allow it to stay in my tiny little house. I allowed it to stay in and control how I felt about myself in the present moments of my life. And, of course, as those years from teenager to young adult became more and more, my house only filled, and I became better at not letting anything out. I locked the doors, sealed up the windows, and the light outside became harder and harder to see. Because when you fill your life with so much from the past, even the good, there is no room for anything but that, and you miss out on the present.

My past used to be a stumbling block. I allowed it to be this way. You see, I laid the brick work. I built up those walls. I closed those windows. I locked the door. It was me who didn't allow the sunshine and breeze to come in and freshen up my life, melt it like spring to winter, like a clean slate or canvas for a new painting and story to be written about the present.

I allowed my past to linger in my thoughts, be my crutch, hold me back. Until one day, a loud knock was at the locked front door. A light showed up so bright that even a latched window with curtains pulled tight couldn't keep dark. Like the early morning sun that wakes the slumbering, stirring those first moments of the day, rays kissing the air and singing "wake up! wake up! it's time to live!" And I couldn't resist it. I couldn't leave the door unanswered. I had to pull the curtains. I had to wake up, I had to give it up, I couldn't keep my collection of hurt and guilt away from that light any longer. I couldn't let the past hold cactive my present, and my future. So I didn't.

That pounding, that bright light, in a literal sense: that was the moment where I finally realized my role in it all. That is when I realized I had to give up everything I was holding onto: to give it up to God, to tell others about my anxiety in dealing with my past, through steadfast prayer, and to open up and air it all out in a sense to begin the process of forgiving others and forgiving myself. And to keep my little tiny house from being filled up, I have to do this daily. Because, really, I'll always be vulnerable to neglecting this place in my heart, and allowing the doors and window to bolt up. This is how I do it: Forgive daily. Choose to keep the windows open and the breeze coming in. Choose to clean up house if you will, for me through prayer and mindfulness, or a vulnerable conversation with a close friend, with Matt, or with myself, each and every day.

Everyone has a past. Everyone has hurt, let downs, stumblings, loss, and things they regret. And everyone has to deal with them in a real way. For me, it took years of prayer and true blindness to it all until I really understood how my past held me captive. I fell victim to my own default, to dwell on the collection of bad rather open the windows and see the good of the present. And that's when I realized my role in it all. God was always knocking, and I chose not to answer the door. The light was always peering in through the tightly closed windows of my heart, and I chose to never truly notice.

My past used to be a stumbling block, a hinderance to how I enjoyed my everyday, blinding me from opportunity and beauty that was right there waiting for me to see it, to grab it, to take it as what life is about--and I realize that now. I have learned how to keep that tiny little house bright, and it is a choice that I have to make daily.

What about you? Are your windows latched shut or wide open? Either way, the warmth of the sun and crispness of that air will always be right outside that door to your heart. If anything, know that. And know that someone will always be knocking. Are you choosing to let the present day in and air out what you are holding inside? Are you choosing to answer the door?

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This post is part of a series of 25 bloggers over 25 days sharing as part of the Skinny Dip Society Blog Tour, hosted by Katie Den Ouden. Be sure to check out Stephanie's post from yesterday, on Falling Back in Love With Yourself, and Caroline's post tomorrow. Katie is also doing a 21-Day Freedom challenge, which may be the perfect little addition for you to live a bit more freely and wildly each day. She is a total inspiration, and an amazing woman cultivating a community of people who want to live life wholly. You can read catch up on the past few week of the blog tour--over here. 

Fleeting vs. Abiding | Love Yourself Linkup

If every person who ever thought they needed to change something to be prettier, felt one hundred percent loved--all of the time--would they in fact still feel the need to change? When I came across these words by Kate Wicker, from Weightless: Making Peace with Your Body, I had this moment where if you were there, you may have seen a lightbulb hovering over my head. And this strand of words, it continues to get me thinking: How can we love ourselves and others more fully, so as not to feel the need to change ourselves to be prettier, to change ourselves to the norm of our culture, to change ourselves because it makes us waiver less in our ability to fit in. If wanting to feel loved is the root of self-worth, body image, and our drive to change, then let's consider how it is we need to better feel loved and better love another. 

I am struck with the fact that I need to love others better, while facing straight on my need to love myself deeper, too. I've rolled around with how loving others goes hand in hand with loving yourself, over and over, this past month since writing about it. Truth, it doesn't get any simpler: the root of our desire to change is a desire to be loved. So do we really want to bear the mark, and the trial to reach unattainable standards, of physical beauty--wasting life's moments for something ever fleeting? Or do we want to bear the internal mark of learning to love others and ourselves more purely--relying on each other, and God, to purposefully teach us, investing life's moments on something abiding?

Beauty the Action

Someone once told me "The best part of beauty is that which no photograph can express."

Beauty, and its best parts, are an action. Beauty is an outpouring of the within. Though our world likes to tell us otherwise, with style and grace being solely about the exterior--style and grace can only be beautiful if the inner linings match. I recently wrote and asked "what squeezes out of your life?" In the very same respect, the things that one lives passionately about, would do anything for, and over else are consumed by (all things that squeeze out of one's life)--they all have so much sway on beauty. 

Beauty is an action. True beauty shows up in unexpected places, as kindness, service, gratitude, joy, selflessness, love, and humility. It shows up in forgotten places, like among 20 homeless woman staying at an overnight shelter, laughing and caring for each other because they are thankful they have enough. It shows up on camping trips where make-up and hairstyles are long forgotten, and a small tent and fire become luxuries, while we sit and share parts of ourselves under the expansive sky. Beauty shows up in the workplace when two coworkers take a break from the work work work mentality to get to know the heart of their colleague. It shows up when we least expect it to. Beauty, and its best parts, cannot be primped and prepped for. It cannot be applied through concealer, a curling wand, and that perfect little black dress. Although these things may bring on some style and grace, this is not what defines beauty. It is the action that comes from within that makes the beautiful show up.

For the Choose Beauty Linkup, started over at Thoughts by Natalie, I want to set the stage for what I will be writing about. A stage where beauty, at its finest, cannot be expressed by a visual. A stage where beauty is a way life is lived, and a way that other's experience it. Something that a photograph cannot express, but hopefully words can describe.

Dear Future 80 Year Old Me

I am writing today as part of the Love Yourself Linkup--an ongoing series that will focus on topics such as self image and body image. Writers, bloggers, and women alike will talk about our thoughts on these subjects, tell stories of our personal experience, share what has inspired us, challenged us, and more. Learn more over at Ann the Adventurer. You can read my thoughts from the past weeks here and here. 

With wrinkle ointments, botox, plastic surgery, and a world that very much cringes at the thought of inevitable aging, it is crucial to plunge in against this group think rip current, swim upstream, and embrace the beauty of being older. We must internalize that with each wrinkle, each freckle, each grey hair, that we are even more beautiful from the inside out. As woman, we must focus on our character as the true source of beauty--choosing beauty over vanity. Below is a letter I wrote last year to a future 80 year old me. I hope it encourages you to reflect on what an older you would want to hear from herself, and what you would want an older you to instill in her heart about beauty. And perhaps, you too, will want to write to a future you.

Dear older me,

Your years have made you wiser, with a  wise soul that is discerning. 

Discernment has made your speech sweet like a honeycomb, with gracious words that are sweetness to the soul. Your words carry like a tune throughout your your family. Your young, their young, and generations after. May your words and their words be ever filled with harmonies of kindness.  

Your years have caused wear on your face, your hands, your heart. Wrinkles of joy from laughing and kisses from the sun. Rough hands from the work and love you have poured out through touch, and craft, and thoughtfulness. From a lamp that never goes out. A worn in heart secure in what you know is rock, and what you know is passing like the wind.

Your years have made you lovelier. The way you sip your tea, relish in frienships, and still wear pearls, just because. More precious than the jewels that adorn you, your beloved trusts in you, and has no lack of gain. Your years have made you independent and strong. Continue to dress yourself with strength and dignity, and laugh at the time to come.

Your years have made you fear the Lord. Love the Lord. Know the Lord.

Your years have made you just the way you are.

Embrace it, every bit. And know I am learning how to be more like you.

Love,

A younger you

Beautiful Woman Photo via Lee Jeffries | Portions of this letter referenced from Proverbs 29 & 31, ESV

Sunny Style (Without The Sunburn!)

Tomorrow I'll be on a plane to California. Hurray! And while trips to the beach, hiking, and sitting poolside are at the top of my to-do list, having a fair complexion makes me ever so prone to sunburn (and sun damage). It seems with each new summer, I feel a little bit wiser and thoughtful about how I spend my time under the sun--or how I protect myself under the sun.

Bathing suits with a bit more coverage, light weight cover-ups with high necklines and longer sleeves, wide brimmed floppy hats, UV protected sunnies, helioplex sunscreen & beauty balm with spf, and button or zip ups to throw on while sitting pool-side--these are all what I am currently living in when soaking up Vitamin D. The items in this round up I own (or something similar) and use personally, and can confidently say that I feel stylish while being smart about protecting myself from the sun :)

1 // Target | Lakitia Flip Flop
2 // Anthropologie | Dots and Dahlias Chambray Button Down
3 // Neutragena | Ultra Sheer Sunscreen with Helioplex
4 // Stila | Stay All Day 10-in 1 BB SPF 30
5 // Aeire | Soft & Cozy Hoody
6 // Von Zipper | Elmore Sunglasses in Tortoise
7 // Target | Rugby Shirt Dress
8 // Gap | Metallic Floppy Hat
9 // Aerie | Solid One Piece Swimsuit

Cat Eyes, a Mirror, and Dresses

Eyeliner has never been my forté, but after reading Natalie's post on her cat-eye crush, I could not resist trying the latest trend. My eyes are rather deep set, so liner always annoyingly leaves smudges above my lids ad doesn't seem to stand out. Also, somehow, by the end of the night, my eye liner seems to disappear. Most likely because it rubs off on my eyelids as I blink and what not. After a recommendation from my sister-in-law Morgan to use cream eye liner with a brush, my eye lining problems have become less and less. Morgan always has stunningly done up eyes, and I've always wanted to try her lined look (but never have due to my smudging/liner disappearing problems). Cream eyeliner has proved, for me, to be the easiest to apply, and the most long lasting--especially when paired with an eyelid primer. So with brush, eyeliner in a jar, and primer, I gave the cat eye look a go when I went out for a glass of wine last night with my girlfriends. 

{From the Archives} You are lovely, and don't you forget it.

Marilyn Monroe on the beach.

Photographed by Andre De Dienes, 1949

Today I (Lauren) had my makeup done at Ulta for this free event they were putting on. I had a lovely day with my lifetime sister, the beautiful Miranda. We had a great time sitting and getting our eyes smokey, lips glossy, pores minimized, and cheeks blushed. We bought new products, beauty balms, and fun girly things that are even more fun to play with and wear when you are with a handful of girlfriends. Dancing. Wearing bright colored wedges. Sipping a raspberry Sparkeltini. Or twirling in a vintage style dress (for example). But even after all the makeup, priming, and prepping, I feel most myself after face washed and skin fair, stripped of powders, rouges, and liners of sorts. I feel most like me, when every imperfection is free to breathe.

This is something I need to remember, and so do you. You are beautiful when you first wake up in the morning. You are beautiful even when your eyes are puffy after crying during You've got Mail. You are lovely even with chipped nail polish and chapped lips. You are lovely when you have a cold and your favorite slouch sweatshirt on, for maybe 4 days in a row. You are beautiful even when you feel that you aren't. And don't let anyone tell you differently. You are you, and you were made to be just that way.

But, it is okay to play dress up. Because you are beautiful even then, and you will be even more beautiful at the end of the night when the mascara runs into the sink, you pull your hair back with a head band, and stick in your retainers. You, and I, are lovely.

Originally posted at my personal blog, on February 25th, 2012-- over here.
For more on true beauty, head on over to thoughts by natalie-- over here.