Bold Red Lip Moment

on discernment and the things we outgrow

When I was in my twenties, I loved a bold red lip moment. I was a young makeup artist and was often given free product from high-end brands (a nice perk, for sure), so I tested every shade of red lipstick available. Often, I would wear a shade of bright red, and the color would overtake my whole face…you couldn’t really even see me because all you were looking at were my lips. For whatever reason–probably a mid-2000s trend–the shades were often super saturated, and usually had an orange base of color.

I know now, after having my colors done a few years ago, that orange-based makeup is not my friend. My skin tone is too fair and neutral, and especially if the product is super saturated or heavy, it will drown out my whole look. Nowadays, I tend to wear lip colors that are a cool nude, or, if I want a bolder lip look, I’ll do a berry-red (and a soft-matte or sheer texture is always best for me). That’s not to say those bolder looks of my youth were wrong per se, they just didn’t enhance my very specific design. No shame on my younger self, I just didn’t know. And that’s okay.

But because of my color analysis experience, I now have information/data that can help me make better decisions. Now I know.

I’m also thinking about how this applies to the vocational journey that I’ve been on for 20+ years. In my twenties, I traveled and lived in many places and had stints working at coffee shops, but my passion was working as a makeup artist. I started by working in luxury retail and then as a sales rep for specific brands–this helped to build my knowledge of the products, as well as sales, financial planning, and corporate training. Soon enough, I became an assistant to a sought-after production makeup artist, and eventually built a clientele of my own. My favorite moments were working together on set with a crew for a video shoot, a commercial, or a photoshoot. I loved the creative work and being an entrepreneur, but it was difficult to maintain steady work during that season of my life.

After marrying Michael and starting our family in my late twenties, I had to become more discerning about the jobs I took; the finances needed to make sense (i.e., be worth it) for me to be away from our boys. I remember having a week-long job on a TV show (well paid, great crew, and super fun) when my second-born was only a couple of months old. We really needed the money at the time, and I was so appreciative of the opportunity. Still, I found myself having to politely ask for the privacy of the green room (the only room on set without windows or glass walls and a door that closed) so I could pump breast milk 2-3 times a day. It was awkward and embarrassing (the actors were all quite young), and I felt alone in those moments. Who can understand the feelings of a woman in a moment like this? She is caught between two worlds–one, where she has the autonomy to make money, contribute to a larger project, and express her creative skills, and the other, where she, being physically bonded to her baby, is needed to sustain the life of her child, who must be provided for in every way possible.

This job was a turning point for me. Sometimes it takes testing the limits to find out where your boundaries are; for me, I didn’t want to take jobs that required me to be away from my newborn for 10-hour days, no matter the cost. It wasn’t that the particular job was wrong, or that I couldn’t do it; in fact, it helped us get through a tough financial patch, and I’m so grateful for that.

However, this job also gave me something else…it helped sharpen my instincts about what was best for my life. Discernment is one of those life-things that takes time to develop, and you have to go through a variety of experiences to develop a keen sense of what is right for you. Even though I enjoyed being a production makeup artist and could have continued down that path, I sensed that I wanted more out of my life. The path was good for a while, but once I learned more about myself and what I wanted in life, it no longer made sense to keep going in that direction. I was at the first of many crossroads, and I felt my life opening wide and myself ready to open up too. I made the hard decision to lay down my makeup kit and search for something else, something more.

In the letter to the Corinthians, Paul writes about the attributes of love. He says, When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put aside childish things.¹ Our childhood or youthful experiences are not diminished by when they happened, as long as we are wise enough to glean good, helpful information from them to inform our future selves. My career as a makeup artist was good for a season, but once my life expanded with marriage and children and homemaking, it didn’t help to build toward the vision God had for my life, the vision He was actively calling me into (and to be honest, at times, some jobs actively worked against it). This is the process of maturing, of becoming who God has called us to be. When the grace of marriage and motherhood invaded my very shallow experience, a deep well opened up within me and filled to the brim, to overflowing, with love for my family. This love moved me, moved my desires and ambitions, and the horizon of my life stretched beyond the nearsightedness of what I had known up to that point.

Maybe you’re still in the middle of collecting yours–the information, the experiences, the moments that feel awkward or isolating or hard to make sense of. You might be standing in your own green room, or at a crossroads that doesn’t look the way you imagined. That’s okay. The data is still coming in. And slowly, you’re learning your own design.

Until next time,

SBL

1. 1 Corinthians 13:11