on aging

I plan to be beautiful my whole life.

I don't plan to be 20 my whole life, but I plan to be beautiful my whole life.

I will grow old and get wrinkles and gray hairs and stretch marks, but I'll tell you what, they'll be sexy stretch marks.

When it is my birthday, people will ask if I'm 29 again, and I will say no, I'm 67.

I am a fallen woman, and deep in my heart I doubt. I wonder. I ask: "am I beautiful?"

I won't take my question to the world: they will say "no, you are old and wrinkled, and all beauty is vanity."

I won't take my question to my husband, a fallen man. Some days he will say "yes" honestly. Some days he will conjure this required answer.

I will take my question to God, and he will say "I made you, I created you, I know you better than anyone else. Yes, you are old and wrinkled and beautiful. You are a captivating, beautiful woman, desired and loved. Let me wash you with my blood so you can be seen." And deep in my heart, deeper than my doubt, I will know this is true.

I will empty myself and let Him fill me with His love.

And I will go to my husband and say "Look!" and I will not be ashamed of my wrinkles; I will not be afraid. I will be beautiful, and my husband will see my beauty. He will speak and I will hear Christ's voice: "you are truly beautiful."

I have no beauty that does not come from my Creator. To Him I owe infinitely more than I have or am. I deserve nothing. But "deserve" is irrelevant to love. I am empty and grateful.