Photo courtesy of Pioneer Woman Photography Contest
Just look at her and admit admiration. She inspires me to grow old the way she has.
When I’m her age I don’t want to be afraid of doughnuts either.
I hope I’ll have never said – "Just a teeny piece of cake for me." I hope I won’t be afraid of my gray hair and its old lady curls. I hope I’ll have more laugh lines than you can count and use them every day…ever other second.
I hope I’ll wear a purple stripe shirt too, and high heels. Unless I have bunions. And then I’ll order my orthopedic shoes in pink and walk in confidence.
Yes indeedy – this picture should be me…
And off to one side there’s a man sitting and smiling at me. You and I can’t see him from where we are, but I think he probably has skinny old man legs and a plump middle (that you can bet I haven’t grown tired of hugging!)
Maybe he’s waiting to take a treat home to our grandbabies – the only kind of multiplication I’ve learned to love. I hope our house is full of chatter and crayoned drawings. I hope our floors are never clean for long, and that I don’t ever get tired of hearing an infant cry…seeing their first steps…
Is it too much to believe that it’s all possible?
What if, in reality, we’re left short at the end of life, tired and worn from living? What if jubilance isn’t possible when your body begins to break down?
But do sunsets grow less glorious? Does spring ever stop surprising us each year? Do kisses grow less sweet? Do God’s graces ever run dry? Ever?
That’s why I’m going to be this lady someday. His mercies are new every morning and even with arthritis, wrinkles and saggy skin, I’ll be fountain of His Grace.
And I’ll be able to love doughnuts to the very end.