Who Is She? Feb 20, 2008

I saw a woman this morning. She is old. And sad. Her eyes are sunken, with wrinkles around them, as if her eyeballs are too heavy for her skin. Her hair is unruly and needs to be combed, or Curly-Girled, or something. Her shoulders are bowed. She looks like she doesn't care. She looks so tired. I didn't recognize her.

She lives in my mirror.

You know, it wasn't that long ago that a teenager came to my door and asked if my mother was home. Less than 10 years. In fact, less than 4 years ago, a woman came to my door and wouldn't believe that I *was* the mom. "You're not the mom!" she exclaimed. "Yes, I'm the mom," I said. "NO! You're NOT the mom!" "Yes, I am the MOM!" I had to round up all the kids and get the babies to show them to her. She nearly forgot why she knocked at my door.

A couple of weeks ago, someone guessed my age. Now people have been guessing my age ever since I can remember, and they always guess at least 5 years too young. Seriously, when I was in the 3rd grade, someone thought I was in Kindergarten. When I was in 8th grade, back when there were Jr. High Schools instead of Middle Schools, a 7th grader thought I was there visiting my mom. When I was 29 and pregnant with my third baby, someone thought I was a college student. This time, the person guessed I was 48. I was shocked! I am 43.

Thus the study in the mirror.

So what I want to know is, why, in the last 6 years, have I aged from looking 32 to 48?

I want to explore this. To find healing, and to find rest. And to find peace.