To all the beautiful women that read my blog:
I recently came into this article written for the new dove campaign. I love that they are teaching and empowering women to embrace the body they have been given. God has designed each of us perfectly. There are no mistakes. I pray that as you read this article you are reminded of what makes you, YOU! For me, it's the Mankey belly, the Coate ears, and the weird hip joint (where did we get that one dad?) For my children it may be those same traits with an addition of the Churchill golf swing, and the Redelsperger round face! No matter what the world may say, I know who I am and I know Whose I am. Thank you Lord for blessing me with an amazing family, incredible heritage and the children to carry on my legacy. May it be reflective of You with each generation!
Finding Beauty in Legacy and LineageBy Liz 
Schau 2008-12-30 http://dove.msn.com/?source=msnhp I'm in the habit of collecting old things. Old cracked-paint furniture, old colored glass, old classic books. Books are by far the most prized of my collection, because they usually tell me more than one story. I'm getting two gifts in one: the story the author carefully crafted and meant to tell and the story of the previous owner (or owners) – those who have read and underlined and creased the pages and starred favorite poems or chapters all because they felt the author was speaking to them. Aged things pull at me, because even after all of the lives they've lived, with so many families and people and years, they're still pretty, still smart and still relevant to my life. Why should I buy something new, something without back story?I blame my mother for my compulsion to love old things. She's probably not even aware that she's a collector of old stuff, but her decorating style would tell you differently; she's never bought off the showroom floor. Instead, Mom collects couches and headboards and dressers from family members who no longer need them. She collects old pictures, too. They're the kind of ancient family photos that don't allow us to be 100 percent certain of the names of the people in the picture or how they're related to us. All that matters is that the photos have been passed down, and those in them actually look like they're part of our family.It's a shame that my favorite of my mother's handed down photographs is hidden in the corner of my parent's bedroom — it's too dark in that spot to be truly appreciated. Even though I grew up with that photo in our home, I still make a point to stop by and study it when I get the chance. The picture is a black-and-white of five women in prairie style dress. I like it for one good reason: all five women have my face.Today, a lot of us women are working hard to erase our physical lineage — slimming our noses and hips, dyeing and straightening our hair, tanning to no end. Pretty soon, we start looking like no one — not our mothers, not our grandmothers, not any aunt or cousin or family member. What I've realized is that when you start to notice the beauty of a lineage of women and people, you start to forget whatever it is that makes you unaccepted by the media culture's idea of beauty (you're too wide, you're too thin, you're too dark, you're too fair). Beauty standards change by the generation; the innate structure of beauty and smiles and bones do not.Sometime down the road, when pictures of me and my family are passed down to newer generations, I want to be telling the truth. I want my young relatives to see the back story of their own face and body with honesty, not a story of plastic surgery and alterations here and there and not a story that was fabricated in a hospital or a surgeon's office. I want these people to look at me and see themselves: button noses, chubby cheeks, skinny fingers (because even though this all will inevitably vary with new people and romances and births, we still come from the same genes.)For me, prettiness isn't a man-made illusion, something without a back story. It's not hair extensions, push-up bras or lipstick or concealer. Real beauty isn't bought or created. Real beauty is lineage.
Schau 2008-12-30 http://dove.msn.com/?source=msnhp I'm in the habit of collecting old things. Old cracked-paint furniture, old colored glass, old classic books. Books are by far the most prized of my collection, because they usually tell me more than one story. I'm getting two gifts in one: the story the author carefully crafted and meant to tell and the story of the previous owner (or owners) – those who have read and underlined and creased the pages and starred favorite poems or chapters all because they felt the author was speaking to them. Aged things pull at me, because even after all of the lives they've lived, with so many families and people and years, they're still pretty, still smart and still relevant to my life. Why should I buy something new, something without back story?I blame my mother for my compulsion to love old things. She's probably not even aware that she's a collector of old stuff, but her decorating style would tell you differently; she's never bought off the showroom floor. Instead, Mom collects couches and headboards and dressers from family members who no longer need them. She collects old pictures, too. They're the kind of ancient family photos that don't allow us to be 100 percent certain of the names of the people in the picture or how they're related to us. All that matters is that the photos have been passed down, and those in them actually look like they're part of our family.It's a shame that my favorite of my mother's handed down photographs is hidden in the corner of my parent's bedroom — it's too dark in that spot to be truly appreciated. Even though I grew up with that photo in our home, I still make a point to stop by and study it when I get the chance. The picture is a black-and-white of five women in prairie style dress. I like it for one good reason: all five women have my face.Today, a lot of us women are working hard to erase our physical lineage — slimming our noses and hips, dyeing and straightening our hair, tanning to no end. Pretty soon, we start looking like no one — not our mothers, not our grandmothers, not any aunt or cousin or family member. What I've realized is that when you start to notice the beauty of a lineage of women and people, you start to forget whatever it is that makes you unaccepted by the media culture's idea of beauty (you're too wide, you're too thin, you're too dark, you're too fair). Beauty standards change by the generation; the innate structure of beauty and smiles and bones do not.Sometime down the road, when pictures of me and my family are passed down to newer generations, I want to be telling the truth. I want my young relatives to see the back story of their own face and body with honesty, not a story of plastic surgery and alterations here and there and not a story that was fabricated in a hospital or a surgeon's office. I want these people to look at me and see themselves: button noses, chubby cheeks, skinny fingers (because even though this all will inevitably vary with new people and romances and births, we still come from the same genes.)For me, prettiness isn't a man-made illusion, something without a back story. It's not hair extensions, push-up bras or lipstick or concealer. Real beauty isn't bought or created. Real beauty is lineage.
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