My reflection in the mirror reveals disheveled hair and a face devoid of makeup. Wrinkles that never used to show now line my forty-something skin. Dark bags hang beneath my insomnia-racked eyes. Man, I’m a mess!
This is not who I think of when I think of me. Where have I gone?
Do we all get to that place where what we see in the mirror is not who we remember being? Age, time, and life happens, and suddenly we don’t look the same. Don’t feel the same.
“Mirror, mirror on the wall…” I whisper.
Although I write fantasy, I know there isn’t a voice that will answer my question of where the fairest me of all went.
I point to my reflection and stick out my tongue.
Are you not created in my image? I can hear God asking me midst my frowning dismay. That head of gray hair? It is your glory. (Proverbs 16:31) Wisdom can be found among those strands and those lines. (Job 12:12) Look not to your outer being, but seek that which is inner to judge your beauty, child. It is worth more than you know. (1 Peter 3:3-4)
I glance in the mirror one more time and to try to look beyond my blemishes and gray hair. Why is it so hard to give myself the same grace I give to others? Is it a plot from the beauty industry that makes me believe I need to use this cream or that new and improved dye to color my hair? Is it a societal flaw that we don’t respect and honor ourselves when we begin to show a little wear and tear?
I’m so glad God doesn’t judge me on such a superficial basis. I’m so glad He looks at my heart and sees my intentions. Time can be a thief, but only if we let it be. I make another face at myself in the offending mirror.
“Mirror, mirror, on the wall. You’re not so truthful after all.”