10 May 2015

Wisdom in the Wrinkles

I remember my gramma had—gramma skin. You know the kind, when you pull on the elbow skin it stays suspended in the air and then sloowwwly sinks back into crepe-papery place. I remember, as young girl, lying down to take a nap with my gramma, stroking her face, pulling on her elbow skin. I asked her if my skin would be like that one day. She laughed her soft little laugh and told me it would be a long time before that happened.

Time flies, doesn’t it? Here I am, fifty years old, probably not too much younger than gramma was at that time, and I find that there are places other than my elbows that are not as springy as they used to be!  For years, I tied my sense of self-esteem, self-worth, and self-love to the vibrant beauty of youth. Perhaps I chose to believe that the pull of time would not catch up with me.  But it has. My bones complain and muscles whine when I tax them with the tasks that once came so easily. Restaurants with ambient lighting are out of the question if I have forgotten my reading glasses.  And it is probably time to admit that these I’ve aged out of the mini-skirt (unless it is a golf skirt!).

Pictures hold a thousand words and thoughts.  I look at this last “generational” photo of me, my daughter, mother, and grandmother. You can look at the four of us and quickly pick out the most beautiful—my daughter! But who has the most beautiful heart? Whose soul has the most peace? Whose heart is closer to God’s? Who’s soul sings with more peace? The older I get, the more sure I become that the loss of elasticity of skin is replaced by a tightening bond with God, the most beautiful thing one can have. 

Where does that leave me? A few short years ago, I would have said that I would fight to keep the sexy on, to use face and form to feel worthy of a place in this world. Because I did not know I had anything else to offer. 

Gramma put Vaseline on her face every night. Mom was on a first name basis with the lady at Merle Norman Cosmetics. And I continue to sample everything in my monthly Birchbox.  However, the grace of God and the wisdom He grants me have now become my makeup, my perfume, and my confidence. I am clothed in righteousness. I am more than beautiful in my Father’s eyes. Psalm 92:12-15, (ESV) promises that I have all that I need:

The righteous flourish like the palm tree and grow like a cedar in Lebanon. They are planted in the house of the Lord; they flourish in the courts of our God. They still bear fruit in old age; they are ever full of sap and green, to declare that the Lord is upright; he is my rock, and there is no unrighteousness in him.