What We Do For Beauty

Women do interesting things; adorning their bodies with clothes, jewelry, 

make-up, and nail polish, to look professional, unique, or beautiful. For the clothes, 

we are grateful, most of the time. There are times when more clothing may be 

desired, or even less gaudy clothing. It is a true art form to dress well, an art that 

more women would do well to learn, especially myself. Figuring out color, texture 

and pattern combination is challenging. Add to that the task of incorporating 

jewelry and life got just a little harder. As if coordinating clothing was hard enough, 

getting your jewelry to complete the look is an equal challenge. “Does gold go with 

this or would silver be better?” “Dangle earrings or studs?” Why oh why do we make 

it so difficult! And then, we add make-up. The trials of finding the correct colors for 

our skin tone, and will we need mineral make-up due to sensitive skin or will 

regular make-up be fine? Do I wear it everyday, or only for work, or just special 

occasions? All this work just to look halfway decent makes your head spin. And then 

there are the brave souls who decide that life is not complete without nail polish. 

Nail polish, when done well, is expensive and time consuming. It is so personal, each 

bottle looked after with great care, each paint job tenderly done. 

Before I ever got caught up into the trap of nail polish, I made the assumption 

that all nail polish was the same. The only difference in my mind was the price tag. 

Why pay $9.50 for one bottle when there was a $3.00 bottle of almost the same 

color? I was cheap. I didn’t wear it that often, so why invest the money into 

something that I didn’t believe was any different from what I was already buying. 

My friend tried to tell me how nice the expensive polish was, and I used hers 

occasionally, but it didn’t phase me. It never occurred to me that the reason my nails 

were chipping so soon after application was due to poor quality polish. When I 

started working as a waitress, I couldn’t stand how bad my hands looked, especially 

since that was the part of my body that the people I served saw the most. My cheap 

nail polish wasn’t standing the test of the kitchen, so I gave in and bought the $9.50 

bottle. Why would I stop there when I could give myself manicures right from the 

comfort of my own room with a few more tools? I purchased a cuticle trimmer and 

cuticle oil, and lotion that I liked. It became an obsession. 

There is something to be said about getting a manicure or pedicure. Having 

your hands and feet massaged is delectable. You have a wider variety of colors for at 

least five times the cost of the bottle. But hey, you get to sit down for a couple hours 

while someone else helps you on your journey of beauty, and if you’re brave and 

want to live with the same nails for a while you can get acrylic or gel nails applied. 

At least then you’re good for a few weeks. 

I used to hate wearing nail polish. It smelled bad, it took forever to dry and I 

always forgot to wait long enough and smudged my nails every time. I could never 

figure out why people liked it so much. So why bother? I started to realize that there 

are several reasons why women wear nail polish. There are those who wear nail 

polish to make a statement. They use it as an art form, doing wild designs and 

bizarre colors. Then there are the beauty queens who can’t be without their nail 

polish and heaven forbid that it chip! And then there are the rest of us. We wear nail 

polish to attempt a look of professionalism. When done well it can make your outfit 

shine, when done poorly it will stick out like a sore thumb. A good color will go a 

long way in making many a hand look wonderful. Quality nail polish will last longer 

on your nails then cheap polish. 

I enjoy turning on a good movie and picking out some nail polish and doing 

my nails. It has become a weekly routine, one that I wouldn’t do without. It has 

become a habit, akin to taking a nap on Sunday afternoons. It’s a great way to relax, 

forcing you to stop long enough for your nails to dry, giving you time to enjoy a 

movie, fellowship with other ladies or just time to think. By choosing to paint wild 

colors or designs you have the option of making your nails an icebreaker in new 

environments. I always enjoy the wild nail polish choices of others, to see what 

others are brave enough to wear on their nails. 

While we women do some of the most interesting things to adorn ourselves, 

there is a sense of community and expression that goes along with our adornment. 

Women tend to do things in packs, going shopping together, having matching outfits, 

and even getting our nails done together. The fellowship involved in nail polish is 

irreplaceable. I have spent countless hours with my friends painting nails, laughing, 

swapping stories and sharing life together. There are times when I wish I 

could abandon the habit of needing to wear nail polish, because it is so time 

consuming. It is a hidden blessing though, since it allows time to sit and think or 

spend time with others. I wouldn’t trade the fellowship it has allowed me to 

participate in. Through time spent doing my nails I have spent time fellowshipping 

with friends and grandmothers. So in all, it’s a habit of beauty.

Train Ride to Disneyland

It was a wonderful September night for a train ride to Disneyland. 

There were 6 families from Cornerstone Christian Church headed to Anaheim, 

California. It was bound to be a wonderful trip, with great friends to share it with. 

We boarded the train in Klamath Falls, Oregon, at 10:30 p.m. Most of the parents 

had decided to meet us in California by taking an airplane, but don’t worry there 

were 2 sets of parents there with us.  

The trip started out ordinary and uneventful. We found our seats, 

which were on the first floor of the train. The ladies who happened to be sharing the 

same area, made it very clear they did not want to sit by a boy! Fine with us. I 

decided to sit by them, as I was the oldest “kid” of the group and no one else was 

comfortable sitting with them. We were all a little too excited to go to sleep just 

then, and since we had the next 24 hours on the train we decided to go to the 

observation car. Card games and silliness ensued, as only 10 teenagers can cause. 

Time flew by, before we knew it, it was 3:00 a.m. First a couple of us decided that 

they were ready to hit the hay and headed to their seats. And that started the 

waterfall effect. Pretty soon almost the whole group was back at their seats and fast 

asleep. Well, my friend, Joy and I weren’t quite ready to go to sleep yet, so we 

decided to stay up a little longer and talk. By this time it is 3:30 a.m. 

Joy’s dad was on his computer a few seats away from us, and there 

was another man sitting behind us doing some work, besides that Joy and I were the 

only ones on the observation car. We had enjoyed some Disney themed fruit snacks, 

and were savoring some girl time. All of a sudden a man wearing a Peruvian sweater 

decorated with llamas, karate chopped the door next to us! He apparently didn’t 

have a seat, so to entertain himself, he was exploring the train. Weirded out by this 

unusual behavior, we chose to ignore him. A few minutes later he was back. This 

time he spoke to us! To Joy he said, “You have perfect mermaid hair.” Then turning 

to me he said, “And you have perfect bed and breakfast hair.” What on earth! Who 

says things like that to complete strangers on a train at 3:30 in the morning? Despite 

our best efforts to end the conversation and somehow make it back to our seats 

without leading him to them, it kept going. I wish I could say that the topic of 

discussion got better from there, but it did not. Somehow polygamy came up, as well 

as traveling to Israel and various other places. And still we could not loose this crazy 

hippie. 

Finally at 6:30 a.m. when we had reached San Francisco, he left us 

alone. He talked to us all night long about the strangest topics and he never caught a 

hint. We are still unsure if he was incapable of catching our hints (as the night went 

on they became more obvious) or if he was purposefully not getting them. What 

made it even worse was the fact that the whole crew came back with Starbucks and 

looked well rested. We had prime seats to watch their return. The remainder of the 

trip was uneventful and I’m glad to say, restful. Disneyland was magical, as only the 

happiest place on earth can be. 

As we boarded the train to head home, we laughed and said how it 

couldn’t get any worse, or more entertaining, then it already had. But we were 

wrong. This time the whole group was in on the fun. First, there was an older couple 

that was conducting some kind of guided tour on what we were seeing out the 

windows of the observation car. I’m sure it was interesting if I could have focused on 

what they were saying. At a table near us, there were sitting 4 Amish young adults, 2 

girls and 2 boys.  They had a 2-liter bottle of Crush soda and were playing some kind 

of card game. What made them even more distracting were the four letter words 

that seemed to be every other word they said. 

Since our group was so big, we couldn’t all sit at the same table. Four 

of us sat at the first table to the right as you entered the car, the Amish group was 

across the aisle from them, then right behind the Amish group was another 4 of our 

group and across the aisle from them was a man and women and behind them was 

the last of our group. Now the man and woman were adding in their own bit to 

chaos. They were not traveling together, nor were their seats together, they simply 

met on the observation car. The man apparently practiced some form of New Age 

beliefs and was telling the woman all about how wonderful it was. She was 

completely enthralled and wanted him to teach her some of his methods. He went 

back to his seat to fetch something, and he came back with a guitar and an 

elaborately decorated piece of paper. The paper contained the words to Twinkle, 

Twinkle Little Star. They proceeded to place their hands over the guitar and 

meditate on the words of the song. This lasted for about 15 minutes. 

Suddenly a short, dark woman wearing too much make-up and clothes 

that did not fit right, burst into the observation car and asked in a very loud voice if 

anyone wanted to play cards. It took everything we had to not laugh. The whole 

situation in this one car was more then we could take and in our end of the trip 

exhaustion everything was funnier then usual. There were some college age women 

who joined her in several rousing card games. Those games lasted for hours. 

Arriving back in Klamath Falls, we were glad to have some sanity 

back. The adventures on the trains were as exciting as the adventure that they were 

to take us to. We still laugh about those times, remembering how strange they were 

and glad for the stories they provided for us to tell our children someday. And Joy 

and I still joke to this day that we are going to open a bed and breakfast named the 

“Perfect Mermaid”. 

Playthings

   

Over the last several years, I have had the opportunity to watch 

children play. I love watching the difference between the way they play with the 

majority of their toys, and the way they play with their “special” toys. They treat 

them with a certain familiarity, as if they were good friends. As a child, I had three 

favorite toys. I had plenty of toys to choose from for sure, but these three were the 

ones that I went back to time after time. They were more like things to play with, 

rather than toys. I loved to be outside as a child and my first favorite plaything came 

from the outdoors.

The first plaything was my grass people, they were pieces of grass or 

weed that I would pretend were people, and I would play with them for hours. My 

grass people went on several adventures and did many things in the world that my 

imagination created for them. Very rarely were others allowed to engage in this play 

with me, it was a special place where my childish imagination had free range. There 

were many adventures taken; many things discovered. This little world of mine was 

so well developed that it was hard to bring others up to speed enough to let them 

play. It was usually entered into when I was outside in the yard alone. Once or twice, 

I let someone else join me in my adventures, but they were the exception to the rule.  

As the years went on, it became harder to imagine what was going on in this world 

of grass people. I was growing up, and as that happened, I lost a certain ability to 

imagine to the same degree that I had before. It was hard to leave this little world of 

mine, but leave I did.

Another of my playthings was a stuffed rabbit.  This little stuffed 

rabbit went everywhere with me. I think he might have been white once, but I’m not 

really sure. I carried him around by his ears. His ears had wires underneath the 

fabric to make them stand up, but due to the way I carried him, the wires wore out 

and no longer served their purpose. They added wonderful sensory input though. 

He would go with me to the doctor’s office (by his ears of course), and to church 

(again by his ears). There were several attempts by my mom to get me to leave the 

sad looking rabbit in the car or at home, but I always insisted that he come with me.  

He was a wonderful little companion. Sadly, after several years of being carried 

around by his ears, his head detached from his body and the poor little animal was 

buried.  

The last of my childhood playthings is by far the best. This plaything is 

still alive and well, though perhaps showing his age. My little brown friend was 

given to me 12 days before I was born. He was beautiful, a wonderful shade of 

brown, and he wore a blue bow. His eyes sparkled and he was fluffy. For years he 

was too big for my little arms to go around. He, however, was typical size for a teddy 

bear. He went with me on all trips, because without him I could not get to sleep. 

Whenever I was afraid, he was there to comfort me. He has dried many tears cried in 

the dark hours of the night. This silent friend has been an open ear to hear dreams 

and troubles. He has patiently put up with the silliness of young girls during 

sleepovers. Despite how much he was loved, he weathered the years fairly well. 

However, over the last few years he is starting to look a little more dilapidated. All of 

his stuffing is in one foot, he has a hole in his back that is quite persistent against 

repair, and one in his neck that is equally tenacious. He is not as beautiful. His 

wonderful brown color is faded. He hasn’t had his blue bow on in several years. In 

short, he is a very different bear now then he was in the beginning. In some ways 

though, he is very much the same. He is still the little brown friend that he was when 

he was beautiful, only now he’s irreplaceable. Irreplaceable because he has now 

passed the test of time and has proved his worth as a friend.  He is still around 

today. He doesn’t have any name, besides “bear”, or “teddy”, or “teddy bear”. I have 

never felt the need to name him. And why he has been a “he” my whole life? I shall 

never know. It’s just what he is. It’s the same for my poor rabbit. The rabbit was just 

rabbit and also a “he”. My grass people where both genders. It has always made me 

marvel at how a child’s mind works and how they make those distinctions.  

Children certainly know their special little friends better then we do. 

There is no need to tell them that these friends aren’t real or that they must remain 

behind. Deep down inside they know they aren’t real. And the need to take a toy or 

stuffed animal with them is often for the same reasons that an adult takes a book. 

They will eventually outgrow these needs for these “friends” as I outgrew my little 

grass people, but the memories of them will live on. They will then be passed down 

for generations, whether the actual toy or the stories of those imaginary people. I 

miss the times I spent with the grass people, I miss my rabbit. But I know that I am 

also able to function without them, because I had those wonderful times with them. I 

have moved onto the meat of life, the heavy things that children cannot handle. My 

bear stands as a reminder of such times. Times well enjoyed, wonderful memories, 

times that will never be again, but will always be there to  replay. I have never found 

a rabbit that felt the same way in my hand as my rabbit did, but I can still remember 

how it felt in my mind. 

Honor and Dignity

The American culture is obsessed with ease, beauty, talent and youth. This is 

detrimental, since this infatuation leads us to murder innocent life, to hide the 

disabled and the elderly. By putting the people who fit in these categories aside, we 

are dishonoring them and not giving them the dignity they deserve. 

As a nation we have decided that ease and comfort are more important to us 

than life. If it’s inconvenient to us to care for and love the children that are in the 

womb, we play God and decide whether or not they shall live. God’s word says that 

children are a blessing, that they are like arrows in the hand of a mighty warrior. 

Regardless of whether or not these vulnerable beings will be born with a disability 

or not, is not valid grounds for terminating a persons life. And certainly our desire to 

have an “easy” life without anything or anyone to get in the way of our trip to the 

lake with the buddies isn’t worth destroying another human. 

When we ignore those with disabilities, we lose out on great friendships and 

subtle ways that God shows His greatness. So many of my friends have a disability, 

and they have taught me so much about the world, about God, and life. And yet 

because they’re not beautiful or intelligent by the world’s standards they get pushed 

aside, out of sight out of mind. This is detrimental to our society since it is missing 

out on some of the best treasures in human form. Suffering produces some of the 

best character and these people deal with suffering every single day of their lives. 

How can we do without these treasures? 

As we age we lose standing in a culture that worships youth and beauty. 

Beauty is considered more worthy then age. By pushing the elderly to the margins of 

society, we are loosing out on years of wisdom and experience. We are also proving 

to them and everyone who is growing old that eventually they will be obsolete. Yet it 

never appears to occur to us that everyone gets old eventually. It doesn’t seem to 

matter, if the elderly person has left us with amazing scientific advances, created 

beautiful art or had wonderful insights about God and His goodness, we still push 

them aside. However the Proverbs say, “Gray hair is a crown of glory; it is gained in 

a righteous life.” (Proverbs 16:31 ESV) This kind of language suggests that we 

should give them more honor than we do.

As Christians we need to be in the business of giving all human life the honor 

and dignity it deserves, regardless of whether it is young or old, convenient or not, 

beautiful or ugly, talented or untalented. The results would be astronomical. We 

would see the value of human life in all its forms; great friendships would be 

formed; wondrous discoveries would be made; and God’s glory would shine forth.