My New Face
Hope you like the new look of my site. I felt this style was more "me" than the last one. Of course, if you don't know me, you haven't been missing anything.
Yeah. Anyway, the new look comes with a few gliches, such as, when I clicked "okay" to changes, I lost all my comments. And, I lost my links. I'm working with Haloscan to try to retrieve my comments, and I have no doubt I'll figure out how to get the links back. In the mean time, try not to panic. Just adjust.
Which brings me to my own personal metaphor, of course.
I'm 42 today. Oh now, thanks friend...I didn't say that just for your acknowledgement, but I appreciate the well wishes.
I've noticed in the last year or two that parts of the physical me that I once took for granted have changed on me and completely rearranged my shadow. I have a jaw line that is different...somehow. Smaller? I don't know. And, my bustline is different. My arms are flabbier than they once were. I have little creases around my eyes that weren't there yesterday. My skin is just not the same shade, and my "natural buff" makeup simply isn't right anymore.
Wow. Getting older costs money. New foundation makeup, new bra, three quarter length sleeved shirts...cha ching, cha ching.
Or...
There's an alternative I've decided to implement as my philosophy for aging. Or, if that has a negative ring to it, my philosophy for "growing up." My friend Gin told me about something author Ann LaMott wrote about being kind to her thighs (Ann's, not Gin's!). Ann decided to treat her thighs like her old eccentric auntie's when going to the beach, treating them gently and lovingly, rather than with embarrassment. I've decided that I can groan over my maturing process, or I can "grow up" into a marvel.
When a little girl enters puberty, her body changes are a rite of passage.
"She's getting her breasts now...she'll be such a lovely young lady."
"What a sweet figure she has! Our little girl is growing up..."
Okay then. How about this?
"Look at Pat's jawline...she's aging so beautifully!"
"My, look how my breasts have dropped! I'm growing up!"
About two months ago, I met the most beautiful woman in the world. I was in a church facility I'd never entered before. In the lobby, my friends and I were approached by the woman, who had to be in her 80's and about five feet tall at most. As she came closer and it was apparent she was heading for us, I began to wonder if this would be a mental health encounter. Then I realized how closed I was to beauty. The woman walked right up to me, and gave me a big hug. I was in the presence of Jesus Christ. She was beauty and grace personified. Whatever she has experienced in this life, I'll never know. But her blaze of glory on her way out will be love. She hugs and blesses everyone she meets, just like she did me that evening. She loves.
I want to be like this woman when I grow up. I want my living and dying to be about my Lord, and about others. I want the essence of my being to be the beauty people see in me. God's light in my spirit, loving others through me, loving me.
I can't wait until I'm 43.
Yeah. Anyway, the new look comes with a few gliches, such as, when I clicked "okay" to changes, I lost all my comments. And, I lost my links. I'm working with Haloscan to try to retrieve my comments, and I have no doubt I'll figure out how to get the links back. In the mean time, try not to panic. Just adjust.
Which brings me to my own personal metaphor, of course.
I'm 42 today. Oh now, thanks friend...I didn't say that just for your acknowledgement, but I appreciate the well wishes.
I've noticed in the last year or two that parts of the physical me that I once took for granted have changed on me and completely rearranged my shadow. I have a jaw line that is different...somehow. Smaller? I don't know. And, my bustline is different. My arms are flabbier than they once were. I have little creases around my eyes that weren't there yesterday. My skin is just not the same shade, and my "natural buff" makeup simply isn't right anymore.
Wow. Getting older costs money. New foundation makeup, new bra, three quarter length sleeved shirts...cha ching, cha ching.
Or...
There's an alternative I've decided to implement as my philosophy for aging. Or, if that has a negative ring to it, my philosophy for "growing up." My friend Gin told me about something author Ann LaMott wrote about being kind to her thighs (Ann's, not Gin's!). Ann decided to treat her thighs like her old eccentric auntie's when going to the beach, treating them gently and lovingly, rather than with embarrassment. I've decided that I can groan over my maturing process, or I can "grow up" into a marvel.
When a little girl enters puberty, her body changes are a rite of passage.
"She's getting her breasts now...she'll be such a lovely young lady."
"What a sweet figure she has! Our little girl is growing up..."
Okay then. How about this?
"Look at Pat's jawline...she's aging so beautifully!"
"My, look how my breasts have dropped! I'm growing up!"
About two months ago, I met the most beautiful woman in the world. I was in a church facility I'd never entered before. In the lobby, my friends and I were approached by the woman, who had to be in her 80's and about five feet tall at most. As she came closer and it was apparent she was heading for us, I began to wonder if this would be a mental health encounter. Then I realized how closed I was to beauty. The woman walked right up to me, and gave me a big hug. I was in the presence of Jesus Christ. She was beauty and grace personified. Whatever she has experienced in this life, I'll never know. But her blaze of glory on her way out will be love. She hugs and blesses everyone she meets, just like she did me that evening. She loves.
I want to be like this woman when I grow up. I want my living and dying to be about my Lord, and about others. I want the essence of my being to be the beauty people see in me. God's light in my spirit, loving others through me, loving me.
I can't wait until I'm 43.
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