When I was growing up there was a woman at church who had a bee-hive hairdo, wore no make-up, and always dressed in an A-line skirt. As a teenager my aunt from Denver fed me the latest fashions (I was the first in town to wear leg warmers!), so I always felt sorry for this lady with the bee-hive hairdo. As a teenager I loved the Lord, hungered to understand the Bible, cared about missionaries, and enjoyed going to church. I was the weird one. The other teens my age at church didn't care about those things. While they tipped back in their chairs in Sunday school, I was bent over my Bible, straining to take in every word the teacher said. The woman with the bee-hive hairdo understood me. She often would see my loneliness and lack of fitting in, and quietly she would say, "Don't you worry about them. You're the one who cares about the right things." I just got a Christmas letter from her today, and I was thinking about how often she encouraged me toward being whom I am today -a pastor's wife who loves the Lord, hungers to understand the Bible, cares about missionaries, and enjoys going to church. Who cares about style.