I Notice I’m Getting Older

12471690_10154135949478352_3121655434780583159_oI notice I’m getting older.

The fine lines are fine, really.

Even there, where smooth skin once stretched taut and smooth.

I brush my hair, silver strands flashing through.

I’m thirty-five.  Halfway to seventy.

This is not an emergency for me.

It is interesting.

To see time change my very face; I understand that I will not be spared this, no matter how much my culture wages war on aging.

At the end of the day we all wash our faces; wash away our masks and creams.

We see the aged face in the mirror.

Women peel themselves out of their Spanx, take off their padded push-up bras; do they feel bereft when their body just is what it is?

Bare-faced, free of artifice, older and different.

We met an elderly couple.

She arranged his collar just so before they headed out into the cold.

She smiled a wreath of wrinkles and twinkles and said

“I’ve been doing this for seventy years!  Just like this!”

His eyes were on her, they rested sweetly on her face as she fussed over him.

White hair, wrinkled hands, delight.

I never want to be ashamed of my years

my wrinkles

my hair shot with silver.

I do not wish to be tucked-in, pushed up, squeezed here, injected there, dyed and fried and spackled smooth.

My two year-old’s sweet face rests in my lap.

His skin is rosy in sleep; he is beautiful.

So I wish to be also; walking forward into what beauty will become as I age, rather than trying to run back to the blooming glory of youth.

Not idolizing beauty of one age, but plucking up courage to experience new, oft-uncelebrated beauty.




2 thoughts on “I Notice I’m Getting Older

  1. I stumbled onto your blog a year ago, when my baby was 14 months old. I’d just stopped nursing, but stilled rocked him to sleep at night. (I still do.) Though that time is usually reserved for thought and prayer, a time to quietly savor the feel of holding my littlest one, I happened to look something up on my phone one evening and somehow ended up on your site. Dare I think God let me to it? Since then, I’ve been uplifted countless times by your words. Thank you. I’m 35, with young children, living on a little bit more land than I feel like I can take care of, already worrying about how I’m going to get the garden in and stay on top of the weeding this spring, fix the fence, repair the window boxes, prune the fruit trees…The list goes on and on. It’s the life I always wanted. I wouldn’t change a thing, but I struggle more than I think I should. Your words help reinforce the perspective I strive to keep — being grateful for all of life’s blessings and helping my children grow with love and grace, and trying not to worry overmuch about the weeds. I just want to say, thank you. Your words are helpful and your excellent writing a pleasure to read.

    1. Ah, Katie, we should be neighbors! We’re overwhelmed in many of the same ways! HA! My weeds and I do battle until mid-July, at which point they gang up on me with the mosquitos and drive me swatting and sweating out of the garden. My one nectarine tree is suffering a fungal invasion and every fruit tree is due for serious pruning. I’ll get to that, sure, after I wash the diapers and make supper and and and! AHHHH! There is an inner perfectionist perpetually cringing within me, especially when the kids dig a hole in the middle of the yard or there are more socks in the grass than in their sock drawers. It’s humbling; that is for sure, but that too is a gift; humility is such a slippery virtue. Keep struggling, dear one; press on! If He appoints work for your hands, He is faithful to give you strength for each day’s work. Running with you!!!

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