Beauty Tips for... Me

Beauty Tips for Ministers became one of my favorite blogs after my friend and fellow chaplain Marie pointed it out to me over a year ago. It helps me answer many of questions I have because, prior to seminary, I've had very few female role models in ministry, and really none that were in their 20s or 30s.

It's amazing the amount of questions about physical appearance that come up as I think about myself in ministry.

What type of jewelry is appropriate? When do fun accessories cross over into the realm of distraction?

What can I do with my hair on a bad hair day? Ponytail? Updo? Cute hat? Scarf?

What says, "Young professional pastor" and not "Frumpy weird pastor," "Creepy spiritual person," or "Waaayyy too trendy to be a pastor"?

How do I tread the line between approachable and professional? I sat across from a friend over coffee awhile back and saw that she had a gorgeous French manicure and perfectly applied eye makeup. My first thought was, "Wow, I feel disheveled and unpolished. I should definitely get a manicure." My second thought was, "No, I should not, because I don't want the people to whom I'm ministering to feel like I'm feeling right now."

It's a tough call, and audience plays a big part. When I sit in people's living rooms and pray beside the bedside of their dying family members, I want to communicate that I'm a professional, but also that I'm a safe person. A person who doesn't take notice of dust on the mantle, dirty dishes in the sink, or people in their pajamas because it's just been an awful day for them.

This is all on my mind because I bought *gasp* some new makeup today. I spent almost $30. It almost killed me. $30?!? On MAKEUP?!?!? Couldn't I have used that money to do something much better, like feed the poor/care for the homeless/buy Daryl some new slippers so his feet aren't so darned cold in the morning when he gets up to make me a breakfast smoothie?

Sigh. This is how my mind works.

Yet, as dear PeaceBang (as she calls herself) reminds those of us in ministry: Appearance isn't everything. Your heart and soul are what matter. But you should still look appropriate for your age and your job. Clothing and makeup and skin care and hairstyle matter. Not as much as the inside, but they are necessary to help you present a professional appearance.

When you're officiating a funeral, standing by a dying patient's bedside, celebrating a wedding, or preaching a sermon, you want to project an image that says, in essence, "I love Jesus, and I'm here to be the minister." Loving, professional, polished, human. What a balance! I'm certainly still learning.

These are the products that graced my Target shopping basket today:

Rimmel's Kohl eyeliner pencil in "Jungle Green."

Maybelline's Volum' Express mascara. I'm super excited to try this, as I usually go for the boring standard mascara. Also, this version is waterproof, which I desperately need. I tear up probably once a day with my hospice patients and families, and I don't want to continue fearing the dreaded "Tammy Faye Baker" moment...

L'Oreal's eyeshadow in Desert Sunrise. It has numbers, for folks like me who are a bit makeup challenged... I think my youngest sister got all the artistic makeup genes. I fall into a rut all too easily. I usually don't gravitate towards browns, but I like how subdued and polished the colors are, without being too juvenile. Also, I bought jungle green eyeliner... so clearly I know how to have some fun.

Finding lipstick that is gluten-free is tricky. I've worn Clinique for years, but they can't give a definitive statement on whether their products are gluten-free. This has forced me to do the dreaded trial-and-error with some Clinique products I'd already purchased. I love their lipsticks, but last time I put one on the tummy gurglings began. Boo. Enter Burt's Bees, a company that does disclose gluten. Since nude lips are in, I purchased their lip shimmer in Peony. More glossy than lipstick-y. Totally my style.

I suffer from the dreaded shiny-face. My skin hasn't yet heard that I'm no longer a teenager, so I get shiiiiiiny with lovely afternoon oil by around 1pm. Yuck. Enter: blotting sheets. Cheap, simple, and they soak up oil without smudging makeup. Hooray, hooray.

And my impulse purchase... Gunmetal gray nail polish, which went straight onto both my fingers and toes. It looks rad. Does it look appropriate for chaplaincy? I'm not sure. I may take it off my fingernails before tomorrow morning. Or I may dress super-professionally (hellloooo, blazer and heels!) and just let my nails be a spark of excitement. I wouldn't wear this in the pulpit, but chaplaincy is a bit more informal. We shall see...

What are your favorite products for looking polished, in life or in ministry? Does anyone know of a good matte powder that helps eliminate shine? I usually use Bare Minerals, but I haven't been too happy with it lately. Perhaps I just need a new applicator brush... But that would mean $15 more dollars. And that's certainly not in the cards for me in the near future. A girl can only go so far.

Gather 'Round, for I Have News!

Whatcha Readin'?

Daryl knows when I'm healthy and happy because I'll have two or three novels going at one time. One will be at the head of our bed, another in the back of the car for waits at the DMV or the dentist's office. A third will be sitting on the coffee table, or in the dining room where I eat my breakfast.

I devour books. Love them. Live off of them. Nom. Nom. Nom.

Sadly, right now I find myself in a bit of a novel dry spell. I'm just not that inspired by anything new I've seen out there (Jonathan Franzen and I are not good author-reader buddies, for one), and I have not yet hunted down our local library to check out what they have in store.

I've just started Jeanette Walls' Half Broke Horses, which is  beginning to be wonderful, but I want more. I am the Cookie Book Monster.

So I'm asking you: what's a good book you've read lately? Why did you like it?

Thanks to: http://scientopia.org/blogs/childsplay/2010/08/08/blind-item-cookie-monster/ for the Cookie Monster pic!

Achoo.

So it turns out I'm allergic to Nashville.

After dragging through work all week up until Thursday, feeling like I was carrying a 50-pound backpack full of sand (thanks, Biggest Loser, for that image), I finally gave in and went to the doctor. It's always a tough call when to stay home sick as a health-care worker. Granted, I'm a chaplain, so I'm not changing bandages or administering medication. Yet I do spend my days in close quarters with people who are very, very ill, and I'm supposed to stay home when I'm sick to avoid spreading germs to those with suppressed immune systems. But how sick is sick?

Health care workers are historically terrible at gauging this. When I worked at a hospital in New Jersey I actually overheard this conversation at the hospital library:

Nurse 1: Yeah, so I'm supposed to stay home today until the test results are back.
Nurse 2: Really? They're being that dumb?
Nurse 1: Yeah, they think I probably have a mild case of the swine flu.
Me: (quickly standing up and running out of library)

So my problem always is: what constitutes sick? The sniffles? I get these every few days. The flu? I get this probably once a year, but since I'm contagious the day before, should I stay home for sniffles, just in case?

Add to all of this the fact that at my place of work sick days = vacation days. That's right, for every day I'm out sick, I subtract one vacation day. This is the WORST plan ever for health care workers, who are bad at staying home even when they're SUPER sick. This policy definitely contributes to sick doctors/nurses/techs coming in declaring themselves "not that sick." And come on, if going into work with the sniffles means we can still take Christmas off to be with our families, most of us will probably do this, right? How sick is sick?

By Thursday evening, I decided I needed to get checked out. I wasn't dying. I didn't have the flu. But I certainly felt crummy. Sore throat, plugged sinuses, general malaise. My energy level was at about 24%. Walking from the office to my car felt like a mile and a half. Blech.

So I stayed home, went to bed at 8pm, and slept until 10am the next morning. Then I went in to get checked out.

The verdict, according to a very kind Nashville doctor?

I'm very allergic to Nashville.

Not uncommon, from what he said. It usually takes people a few weeks of living here before their bodies get really angry at all of the pollen/pollutants/tree offal/etc. I didn't think it was allergies because my eyes weren't itchy and my nose wasn't running. According to the doctor, my "ears were full of fluid that is draining down [my] throat." EW.

So now, doped up on antihistamines, with cough drops and nasal spray in tow, I'm doing a bit better. And the good news is that I was never in danger of getting anyone else sick, because for as miserable as an allergy attack is, at least I get to keep it to myself.

Ah, Nashville. Why so allergen-laden?

Wedding Bells and Belles

My good friend Tonia got married this weekend.

You can check out her awesome blog on greenin' up your life here.

She was pretty much my third sister growing up, so both of my sisters and I got to be in her wedding! It was so fun to be bridesmaids together, though we couldn't help continually cracking this joke:

"Oh my gosh! I can't believe we showed up in the same dress! How embarrassing!"

And then laughing like ninnies.

It was an amazing, beautiful wedding, and one we'll never forget. Here are some of the photos from the big shindig:

My awesome cake-making sister Caroline made them a Packers vs. Vikings cake. Tonia (the Packers fan) fed Mike a Packers piece and Mike (the Vikings fan) fed Tonia a Vikings piece. That's true love, that is.

Almost all of the decorations were handmade, green, and gorgeous.

Aleah was adorable and hilarious, as usual...

We danced and danced, but stopped long enough for a few photos. We don't look this good that often!

I hear that this is called "photo diving." I call it super fun!

Thanks for the party, Tonia and Mike! Many, many, many blessings on your marriage as you begin this wonderful journey together.

To Make You Laugh

I discovered this hilarious website a few days ago, and haven't been able to get enough:

Not Always Right.

It's folks in customer service who deal with customers who are... well... not always right. Occasionally there's a crass one, so my apologies if it's a little too much. It makes me giggle, so I thought I'd share.

The "no pancakes" one is my current favorite.

Sunday poems - A Song for Simeon

I'm working as a hospice chaplain these days.

It can be very, very sad.

It can also be joyful in some strange ways, helping to usher people from life to death, from this world to the next; trying to help people find comfort and peace in the living as they prepare to die.

I came across this T.S. Eliot poem the other day that speaks to the end of life in a way nothing else I've come across does. It's a reference to Simeon, the old man at the temple who spoke to Mary and Joseph and their brand-new baby, Jesus. He had waited all his life to see the Messiah, and the Messiah had come.

I know it's not Sunday, but here's the poem.

"A Song for Simeon"
by T.S. Eliot

Lord, the Roman hyacinths are blooming in bowls and
The winter sun creeps by the snow hills;
The stubborn season has made stand.
My life is light, waiting for the death wind,
Like a feather on the back of my hand.
Dust in sunlight and memory in corners
Wait for the wind that chills toward the dead land.

Grant us thy peace.
I have walked many years in this city,
Kept faith and fast, provided for the poor,
Have given and taken honour and ease.
There went never any rejected from my door.

Who shall remember my house, where shall live my children's children
When the time of sorrow is come?
They will take to the goat's path, and the fox's home,
Fleeing from foreign faces and the foreign swords.

Before the time of cords and scourges and lamentation
Grant us thy peace.
Before the stations of the mountain of desolation,
Before the certain hour of maternal sorrow,
Now at this birth season of decease,
Let the Infant, the still unspeaking and unspoken Word,
Grant Israel's consolation
To one who has eighty years and no to-morrow.

According to thy word.
They shall praise Thee and suffer in every generation
With glory and derision,
Light upon light, mounting the saints' stair.
Not for me the martyrdom, the ecstasy of thought and prayer,
Not for me the ultimate vision.
Grant me thy peace.
(And a sword shall pierce thy heart,
Thine also.)
I am tired with my own life and the lives of those after me,
I am dying in my own death and the deaths of those after me.
Let thy servant depart,
Having seen thy salvation.