Wrinkles

   My 4 year old, William, loves to take pictures, and he took this one.  When I looked at it, the first thing I noticed was the way baby Silas' yellow shirt compliments my blue shirt (I often notice color)... but before I could really finish that thought I noticed "WOW! My WRINKLES!"

   Justin and I have always looked a bit young.  When we bought our house, we were asked on multiple occasions, "Are your parents in?"  A neighborhood boy was so excited to come meet the "kid" who just moved in after he saw Justin run and jump over our fence (because, as he exclaimed to his dad, only a kid would do that!).  He was disappointed to find out it was really just an "adult."  

   Often, I still feel like a kid.  Sometimes it seems like just yesterday that I was catching fireflies in my backyard.  Was it really that long ago that I drove my Little Blue car to high school, painted all over with swirls, frogs, and a big face on the hood?  Here I am with three children of my own, and I still feel like a child myself!  Except now I'm the one holding all the dirty tissues and snack wrappers for them (Did you ever use your Mom as a trash can? I think that is somewhat universal.)

  So lately, when I look in the mirror, I am a little taken aback.  "Wow, I don't look 18 anymore...  Wow, I look... tired."  

  It's different, this getting older thing.  But it's not all bad.  You see, I've always had a fondness for wrinkles.  Always had a fondness for things that are a little old and worn.  

Time.  Old.  Weathered.  Wise.  Wrinkles.  Familiar.  Real.  Stories.  Beauty.

This is our house.  It's a bit old and worn.  I'm not always a fan of that fact, but I can still see the beauty and see the stories in the chipping paint.

   I got married right out of college and shortly thereafter began working in an assisted living home.  Wrinkles.  I loved looking into the faces of the residents.  What had they seen in their lifetime?  What stories did their wrinkles tell?  

   It has been quite some time since I've drawn a portrait, but when I did, I was always pleased to draw an older subject.  Wrinkles are interesting and more fun to draw than smooth young skin.  It's like choosing between drawing a piece of flat paper or a piece of crumpled paper... the crumpled is more interesting.  Here are two portraits I drew at the assisted living home:

This is Gene.  He had Alzheimer's.  There was a gentleness about him.  I always wondered what he was like before his illness.  I'd stare into his wrinkled, worn face and try to guess where he'd been and what he'd seen.  

Ans this is Violet.  Always smiling Violet.  Wrinkles didn't hold this gal back a bit.  She and Mr. Jack hit it off and looked like giddy teenagers cuddling on the couch in the lobby.

Life takes us from little wrinkled baby feet to, God willing, gray wrinkled faces.

I pray my wrinkles will speak of love and kindness, and that I will be able to embrace the journey at every stage.