Mirror, mirror, on the wall…
We all know the story that goes with that phrase. We know about the evil queen and the mirror. Her obsession with it. Her compulsion to be the fairest of them all. Until one day, it wasn’t true any longer. Someone younger and fairer had come along.
Don’t we all have one of those mirrors? The one that we go to for affirmation. For confirmation that we do indeed still have it all. Until one day, we don’t any more.
And don’t we all have that inner evil bitch queen? The one that tells us our looks and the things seen on the surface are where our worth lies. The one we believe over and over again, especially the older we become.
When I look in that mirror these are the things I typically see…
…old hair (as one sweet 5 yr. old once said). Hair that some days I wish I could afford to color and keep colored. Because I’m tired of being mistaken for my daughter’s grandmother.
…eyes that are surrounded by wrinkles. A face lined where it shouldn’t be and I wonder, when did all this happen?
…those extra few pounds that are determined to stick with me because I love chips and queso. And pasta. And bread. And exercise? Not so much!
…a body that frankly has seen better days. Gravity, while it keeps me tethered to this earth, is not my friend. Not now! Not ever!
I see someone who is 52 years old. Someone who doesn’t seem to have a place, or a voice, in this blogging world. A world dominated by those who are younger. And smarter. And more clever. And more talented. Those who always have something relevant to say and the ability to say it so well. I see unfulfilled dreams. I see failure. I see regret.
I see my time quickly running out…
So some days I think, why bother?
As soon as I finished that last sentence, I of course checked twitter. You know, because I am writing! And one of the first things I see is an answer to the very question I just asked. Because God is sneaky like that.
“You are not a mistake. You are never too old. And it’s never too late.” POTSC
But how in the world do you embrace that? Believe that? Live in that moment every day? It’s difficult for me. I’m sure it is for most of us. We have this inner voice, our inner
bitch queen, that continually tells us what we see in the mirror is all there is. All that’s important.
This has been my struggle with my OneWord for this year. Believing and accepting the fact that I am Beloved. I’m learning that I can’t find it in people. We are fickle that way aren’t we? I certainly can’t find it in that damned mirror. You just can’t get a complete picture with it. We are more than the sum of our surface. And that bitch queen? She lies. All. The. Time.
I’m finding that I have to make a choice every day not to give in to those lies. To make a conscious effort to say to myself that I am beloved. In order to silence my inner critic I need to change my inner dialogue. I need to see that reflection through the eyes of the One who says I am beloved. I need to also look past that reflection to see that I am more than what is on the surface.
When I look in that mirror these are the things I will see…
…silver hair. Hair that people tell me all the time they wish they had. Because it’s beautiful. And I know that when I finally do become a grandmother, I will be a damn good one. Not simply because the color of my hair says I’m one.
…brown eyes flecked with gold. Eyes that have seen a lifetime of sorrow and happiness. Eyes that are looking forward to what’s ahead. And those lines? They are the map to that life. Showing that I have lived well and laughed much.
…those extra pounds and not let them bother me quite so much. I’m going to start walking again. I’m going to enjoy spending time with family and friends over good food. Because there’s love and laughter at the table. Communion at the table.
…the body that gravity has a fierce hold on and embrace it. Because I still have curves that I will celebrate. Because it’s still beautiful and desirable to my husband. Because I’m not ashamed of it any longer.
I see someone who is 52 years old. Someone who has a place, however small it may be. Someone who does indeed have a voice because my story is uniquely mine to tell. And I know it is relatable. Someone who is wise. Because some things you have to live to understand. I see dreams waiting to be fulfilled. Failure that I can learn from. Regret that spurs me to make different and better choices.
Mirror, mirror, on the wall who’s the fairest of them all?
You are, my beloved, you are.
Let the beloved of the Lord rest secure in him,
for he shields him all day long, and the one the Lord loves
rests between his shoulders.