Beauty and the Bitch

Every year magazines publish lists of the world's most beautiful women. Recently, however, I was asked a different question:

Who are the most beautiful women you have ever known? Not the prettiest, or the most successful, or the most glamorous because the truth is, I know a lot of pretty, successful and glamorous women. No, the question was for me, far more profound. Who are the most beautiful?

A handful immediately came to mind. And this isn’t because I haven't known miles of wonderful women. I have. But it would seem that I could come up with a few who had left such a lasting imprint on my heart that decades later I still remember them.

As I reflected on each one, I realized something else profound. None stood out because of what they looked like, although all were beautiful women. No, what made them unforgettable was how they made people feel. And one woman in particular comes to mind.

Years ago, I hosted a large women's conference. The morning was hectic. Volunteers were setting up. Speakers were arriving. Exhibitors were organizing booths. And one exhibitor seemed determined to become the event. No, I mean really, she was a royal pain in the you know where. She was demanding, critical, and constantly talking about her future success telling all that she was the next Oprah, I am not kidding. If arrogance were an Olympic sport, she was gunning for gold. And she could have won!

I found myself already exhausted from her energy and she was also taking all of my attention away from all the other exhibitors who were lovely and pleasant.

Then one of my speakers arrived, Helen Burns, who was also my pastor. And honestly, it was like a light beam followed her into the room.

She didn't arrive making demands. She didn't arrive trying to impress anyone. The first thing she did was stop and admire the beauty of the venue. She was filled with wonder.

Then she spotted me. "Good morning, Sunshine!" She wrapped me in a warm hug and sincerely appreciated what had been created. “Look what you have done! she exclaimed as her eyes followed the exquisite architecture of the event’s venue.

Within minutes she was mingling with the volunteers, asking questions, listening intently, and making people feel important. The atmosphere changed and the room felt lighter and warmer with her in it.

Meanwhile, the demanding exhibitor slowly faded into the background, kind of like the muted trombone voice of Charlie Brown’s equally annoying teacher, Miss Othmar.

And that was a lesson I learned and will never forget:

The woman trying to be noticed became forgettable. The woman busy noticing everyone else became unforgettable.

Helen didn't need to teach that lesson from the stage. She was the lesson. She lived it. And the older I get, the more I believe there are two ways to live. One is focused only on appearing beautiful and then of course, the other is focused on actually being beautiful. Those old cliches like, beauty is skin deep really do ring true. One seeks attention, while the other gives attention, one competes and the other contributes. One focuses on the self only while the other helps others shine.

And strangely enough, it's the second woman we remember.

The truly beautiful women I've known share many of the same qualities. They are warm, generous, curious, encouraging, secure, joyful, and genuinely interested in others. They bring peace instead of drama and make people feel seen instead of small.

Years later, I can't remember a single thing that exhibitor was complaining about, what her business was or her plans to be famous. In fact, I barely remember her at all. But I do remember Helen.

Which is probably why the words of Maya Angelou continue to resonate:

"People will forget what you said. People will forget what you did. But people will never forget how you made them feel."

That may be the highest form of beauty. Not the kind that captures attention for a moment, but the kind that changes the atmosphere. The kind that lifts people, the kind that helps others believe in themselves and leaves a searing and lasting impression. And more importantly the kind that quietly leaves the world a little better than they found it.

Mother Teresa once said, "If you want world peace, go home and love your family."

I love that. But perhaps world peace could also use a few more Helens. A few more women who walk into a room carrying warmth instead of competition. A few more women who light candles of another woman instead of measuring whose candle is brightest. Because over a decade later, I still remember that moment.

And maybe that is the story of Beauty and the Bitch.

Both women walked into the same room. One was demanding, the other was commanding. One entered the room wanting to outshine everyone, the other walked into the room and just lit it up with enough sunshine for everyone! One woman tried to take over the room, while the other one simply transformed it by bringing beauty into the room.

To this day I am not sure what contestant number one was trying to prove but I do wish her well. But if there is one thing Helen certainly taught me that day is that when true beauty enters the room, it changes it….and it changes all of us for the better.