Pictures

Pictures are worth a thousand words, or more. Sometimes they are my greatest allies, yet others they seem like a cruel enemy. The frozen moments in time that were once happy and now, they are gone.

          I am in the de-cluttering process, and yesterday I dove into the storage room, the room holding countless pictures stored in boxes; Pictures from the past. They portrayed the days before I had GRAY HAIR, (previous post, ha!) the days when I was a wife and had a family of four. I looked through the happiest days of my life, wondering how and why they could not have matured. Granted, I have many great pictures of the here and now, but still, it hurt. Words cannot explain the evolution of change when one loses such a part of herself. Maybe that explains why those pictures are hidden in boxes. (And why there are not photographers at divorce ceremonies or funerals ...) 

          I looked at the married me and began to see my identity. Have I changed? Am I still the girl in those pictures? Yes and no. Somehow I could relate to her, and in other ways she had the look of a stranger. I cannot help but wonder who am I now?

Gray Hair. The Honorable Crown of Righteousness

           "So, would you or would you not want a good friend to tell you if you had gray hair? Like do you want to know, IF you did, or not?"
          These words were spoken to me last week by one of my best friends from high school ... Hence, the start of this gray topic.
            Youth is all I have ever known. I've looked young, (because I am small,) and act young … but I don’t know why. I simply have never felt like a grown up.

          Things are changing. The evolution has begun …

In one way, it has been a slow fade; yet in another, I feel like I woke up from sleep one morning and noticed a stranger’s reflection in the mirror. For example, my grandmother died 14 years ago; yet, I see her when I look at my hands. HER hands are now on my body, complete with the brown spots delicately faded into thinning skin. All I’m missing are the purple bruises, similar to an apple or banana that fell to a hard surface or sat somewhere too long.

          I can’t help but think:

The skin on elbows, knees and necks … that is not pretty.

How can a wrinkle look like a scar? A scar of age, I suppose.

Jowls? What the h*** are jowls and how do they simply become part of me?

Where did my butt go? It’s like it fell.

20/20 vision, PLEASE come back! Small print is not my friend.

And gray hair?! Seriously?!

Sure, I had noticed a gray hair or two here and there. Not to mention, that is what I do all day and has been my profession for 23 years. I color gray hair. One would think I would be prepared since I am surrounded by its existence and it is a reality in my world.

No. Not the case … It caught me by surprise, somehow.

Hosea 7:9 Foreigners are using up your strength, but you don't realize it. You have become a grey-haired, old man, but you don't realize it.

I hear that. Makes sense to me now.

Last night I sat on my countertop until 1:30 am in an approximate 2 hour rendezvous that turned into an obsessive addiction. I plucked hairs until I had a white/gray bouquet of hair beside me, like a grandmother-looking wig. They were everywhere; shiny, white hairs … AKA: My “crown of righteousness.”

Proverbs 16:31 says, “Gray hair is a crown of splendor; it is attained by a righteous life.”

Oh yay … I must be doing something right?

Proverbs 20:29 gets even better, “The glory of young men is their strength, gray hair the splendor of the old.”

"Splendor” and “Old.”

Isaiah 46:3-4, “I have cared for you since you were born. I will be your God throughout your lifetime – until your hair is white with age.”

So is He done with me? Am I on my own now that my hair is white with age?

Yes, last night is when I officially crossed over into adulthood. I am a grown up and have reached acceptance on a newfound level. I thought I was grown when I graduated high school. Then again when