by Joanie Butman
Do you remember my elderly friend, Hedda, I’ve written about? Her actual age is a mystery. When I first met her last February, she was 98. Now she’s 90. My guess is the truth lies somewhere in between. I don’t even think she knows for sure. Regardless, when I arrived for a recent visit I noticed a bandage on her forehead. Concerned, I asked if she fell and hit her head. “No, no” she scoffed, “It’s for wrinkles.” It was probably rude, but I laughed out loud. She rarely leaves her apartment except for doctor visits so I asked, “Who’s looking, Hedda?” to which she replied, “I am - every time I look in the mirror.” Good thing she doesn’t have a full-length mirror. She’d be wrapped up like a mummy.
Our society is overly concerned with our outsides when it would behoove us to concentrate on what’s inside. Being thinner, less hairy, more fit, straighter, whiter teeth, and of course, less wrinkles - the quest for beauty is endless. None of which makes us any happier. Another mature friend confessed to me recently that the number on her scale determines her mood for the day. Dang! I thought for sure one of the blessings of aging is that the preoccupation with beauty would fade. After all, there’s just so much you can do. Nature has a way of catching up with you.
I have to admit that vanity got the best of me a couple of years ago, and I’ve used Microblading and Botox, which violates my original “no sharps” mandate toward self-improvement. The premise of that decree is that I would take advantage of any beauty/age defying enhancements as long as they didn’t involve sharp objects. I’d leave any carving of my body to the surgeon whose kept me alive thus far. The treatments did eliminate a few lines on my forehead and restored my lost eyebrows - not that anyone noticed but me. I’m not so different from Hedda because let’s face it, whether you’re in your 60s or 90s, no one’s looking anymore. Growing bangs is just as effective and a lot cheaper.
I’ve also been playing a life-long game of tag with my weight, succumbing to the same pitfall of letting a number determine my mood on any given day. It doesn’t help that a standard greeting these days usually involves some assessment of our appearance. For example,
You look great.
You look like you’ve lost weight.
You look so healthy (a euphemism for the extra weight you’re carrying).
Maybe we fixate on the outside because it’s easier to change our outer self than our inner self. There are many days that my soul sags worse than my boobs or my butt. Other days it feels more wrinkled and shriveled than a raisin. However, authenticity puts us in a vulnerable position so we put on our best face for others. That may work on social media, but “the Lord does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart” (1 Samuel 16:7).
Christ is the only filler we need, but His technique is different. He doesn’t fill in our cracks, He uses them. It’s precisely through those fissures that His presence shines through into the lives of others. The beauty that radiates from a God-filled woman endures well beyond our wrinkles and more than ‘makes up’ for what we lose to age. I should know by now the only beauty treatment I will ever need is His Word tattooed on my heart and a smile on my face.
No stranger to cracks Brennan Manning, author of The Ragamuffin Gospel, teaches,
“God not only loves me as I am, but also knows me as I am. Because of this I don’t need to apply spiritual cosmetics to make myself presentable to Him. I can accept ownership of my poverty and powerlessness and neediness.”
Until we accept how utterly unworthy we are, we can’t appreciate or experience God’s amazing grace. God doesn’t love us because of who we are. He loves us because of who He is. Choose to let that healing, rejuvenating truth serum soak into the depths of your soul.
It’s the only foundation I choose to apply every morning.
What foundation do you rely on? Choose wisely!
