Wasting Away into Glory

I freaked out.
Squealed out loud in the ladies room.

I saw my first gray hair. It is brilliant. It seems to only be half committed to being silver, it is more of a chestnut and silver swirl…so delightful.

With this little aged wonder, come my mixed emotions. Do I pull it out, hide its existence or wear it proudly? So I carefully place it back in it’s home at least until I have had time to show Andrew.

God is so random, minutes ago, on my way to this truth telling mirror, I was thinking about when I would earn the honor and grace of sitting with people in their pain. At times, their anguish is so palpable I want to reach across the room and put it into my lap…but this would not do…my desire to fix them would never heal them.

So I sit.

And I wonder what to do with this tension. Pondering if I will ever be wise enough.

Wise like my Memaw.

In all of her brilliant glory, which is mostly encompassed by her rest with others and even more so herself. She is woman. She is mother. She is friend. She is beauty.

I want to be these things.

She tells me that she worked hard for her crown of wisdom. So today as I stand in my reflection holding onto what might be only a change in hormones, something of genetics, and I smile.

Although I am terrified to stand in this woman called me, as I know daily my body is losing the battle against gravity. I realize it is the only path to beauty. Beauty that when fermented becomes glory.

God, though seemingly unkind in allowing divinity to be cradled in humanity was actually breathe-taking.

Here is to the courage it takes to trust a God who made our physical beauty fade on purpose.