I really don't want to get old. At all. And for some reason I've been thinking about getting old a lot lately; maybe it's due to the fact that we'll be celebrating my grandparents' 50th wedding anniversary in August [praise God for a wonderful marriage!] or maybe it's because my dad is already sending in my applications for college scholarships and it reminds me of how fast time is going by. Who knows why I've been thinking about it so much. But sometimes, [call me lame], it really stresses me out. Today was one of those times.
However, God found a wonderful means of comforting me. As I was reading one of our church missionary's blogs, I found something she had written a while back:
"A small hand with broken fingers and weathered skin reached up to the sky. A streak of grey ran through her black hair. I could barely see her 4’10” frame around the other people in the church, but her hands stretched upward without regard for anyone around her.
The sights and sounds around me seemed to fade in comparison to this woman. I was close to tears as I watched this seasoned woman hold both hands outstretched for over 20 minutes without so much as a tremble.
This is strength and beauty; a woman whose worn heart is devoted to the Lord. Some see age, the Lord sees a true worshipper. Others see weakness, the Lord sees one who has trusted despite all odds.
As I stood there, I asked the Lord if one day my hands could look like that."
Makes aging sound a lot better, doesn't it?
[blog excerpt taken from jamieeng.blogspot.com]
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