I used to fight aging. Okay, I will always fight the signs of aging.
I look in the mirror and wonder where the young woman I once knew went.
I buy cremes and potions and examine the skin under my eyes ... I've considered buying crepe erase. (Ladies, don't you absolutely HATE the word crepe????)
Here lately, I've been rethinking this whole "getting old" thing. And I am beginning to embrace the positives of being fifty-something.
A few weeks ago, as one of my granddaughters played at the kitchen counter with her teapot, my daughter-in-law and soon to be daughter-in-law looked on with trepidation.
As water flowed freely over the sides of the small teacups, I tasted Lilley K's tea and told her it was delicious. I handed her a few paper towels to sop up the extra "tea."
The girls wondered why the "tea" mess didn't bother me.
Here's a positive of where I am today--I've lived through the real stuff that spills over the edges of my heart ... the messes that can't be cleaned up with a paper towel. With God's grace, I survived and gained a few lines on my face.
There are years of happiness carefully stored in my memory. I take them out from time to time and page through them. They are like vitamins for my soul. Special moments with Tommy, the joy of our babies, the pride in military graduations, peace that comes from seeing our kids grow into wonderful and kind adults, and the crown of grandchildren. Counting and recounting God's faithfulness in plenty and in need ... these are some of the lines upon my face.
Through weight gain and weight loss, grey hair and red hair (and lots of colors in between), the uncertainty of the future and the certainty of God's hand at work, and all that I have learned and have yet to learn ... well, these are the lines upon my face.
So, whether they are laugh lines or crows feet or worry lines etched across my forehead as I give my heartaches to God again and again ... whether they appear overnight or I watch them slowly grow over time ... they are beautiful. Beautiful because they tell a story only God and I know.
These lines. I hope I live long enough to multiply them. I hope most are marks of laughter and smiles.
Even so, my vanity will try to slow them down. So if you'll excuse me, it's time to wash off this mud mask. Surely there's a thirty-something face underneath it ...
