How to Prepare for a Beauty Contest

When I was in high school I entered our local small town beauty contest.  (No I did not win.)  The day of the event Dad gathered all of us into the yard to pick up almonds from under the tree.  When almonds grow on the tree they are covered by a fruit.  They look like small green apricots.  This is messy business and leaves fingers an unappealing shade of brown.  This was not my picture at all.  "Dad, this is no place for a beauty contestant.  I should be getting my hair and nails done."  He replied, "I can think of nothing more beautiful than a young woman hard at work with her family."  I didn't get my my manicure and styled my own hair, and I wasn't happy with his answer, but as I suspected, he was right.

Neil A Anderson said, "Work builds and refines character, creates beauty, and is the instrument of our service to one another and to God.  A consecrated life is filled with work, sometimes repetitive, sometimes menial, sometimes unappreciated but always work that improves, orders, sustains, lifts, ministers, aspires."

I wasn't very old when my parents started trying to teach me how to work.  One of the first jobs I remember was ironing washcloths.  This was exhausting and challenging and I'm not sure why Mom never ironed wash cloths...I guess no one could iron as well as me?

Sometimes the work I did actually contributed to the family. Sometimes I was learning a skill, and other times I think I was just learning that I could do hard things.  We all had daily chores and baby duty.  Once I really wanted to go to the football game with my friends.  I was all dressed and ready to go, but I couldn't leave until my baby brother was asleep.  That was the seemingly longest baby rocking episode of my life.  He kept looking up at me with his beautiful and very alert brown eyes.  Finally, finally, he was asleep. Not too many teenagers were at the game saying, "Sorry I'm late, I was rocking the baby."

Brown-eyed baby brother 2 yrs. later

My Dad liked to prepare us for the "Hard times."  He was concerned that we didn't know where meat came from.  One memorable day we killed, cleaned, scalded and plucked chickens.  I could not bring myself to eat that meat.  I know, I'm a pampered city girl.  When the hard times come I'll eat my neighbor's chickens and they can eat mine.  I hope they put it on a Styrofoam tray and wrap it in Saran wrap so it looks nothing like the fluffy feathered animals that I fed kitchen scraps to everyday.

One summer after we had a fire in my house, my job was to move the fire-damaged wood pile to the burn-pile beyond the fence.  Fresno county summers are hot.  I needed to be careful of the nails so I couldn't take big loads at a time.  My Dad let me choose my schedule so I had to will myself to get started.  I think that job took me the better part of the summer, but I learned that if you keep at it, eventually the pile will disappear.  But only if you keep working...and it may never be fun.

Of course I want my children to have all the opportunities for beauty and character refinement that I  had so I give them jobs.   It's hard work keeping them working, and we've had some scary dish nights, but  I can honestly say after all these years, we have some mean kitchen cleaners.  Unfortunately, they all think meat comes from the store wrapped in Saran wrap.

Gabe learning from the expert

Helper Aaron

The applesauce assembly line

Manly sod layers

I asked little Rebecca to clear the table and she did.