The Steadfast Heart

Several weeks ago when I was looking at myself in the mirror, I became alarmed. My gaze fell on my something shiny and bright peeking through my hairline. Gray hair. Two to be exact. At 32, the aging process has found my calling card.

Each night after my discovery, I searched through my hair to see if any more had appeared and was disappointed every time I saw that they had. I’m sure everyone has touchpoints throughout their lives when they realize that they’re getting older. This has been one of mine. As a licensed cosmetologist, I’m aware I can stage a cover-up of the external aging reality up to a certain point. As a human being, I’m more aware now than I want to be that aging is inevitable.

In complete contradiction, I was telling someone last week that I am so grateful to be out of my twenties and into my thirties. I wouldn’t trade knowing what I know now with what I didn’t know then. Wisdom is a gift.

As I have been facing my own aging, being a parent continues to remind me that it’s not just me. Griffin lost his first tooth last month, and my emotions went into conflict with one another. I celebrated with Griff on his milestone, knowing there would be many more loose teeth to come. As I locked eyes with his new smile, I searched for the baby I had years ago. A growing boy proudly beamed back at me, and the phrase, “The days are long, but the years are short.” flashed through my memory.

Time is so finite.

I’ve spent a lot of hours in hospital rooms lately. And I’m learning that growing old eventually leads to greater dependence on other people. It’s been an honor and a privilege to be one of those people for my family. And I know that someday, I’ll have a head full of more than two gray hairs and a body that doesn’t work as well as it does now. The toothless boy I care for now may be taking care of me. And that’s humbling to think about.

How strange it is to think about life linearly. To know that all the memories I have are fixed. Each day offers only the opportunity to move forward and create new recollections.

Leave it to me to find gray hair with a magnifying glass and spring into crisis management over my life. As always, when I am thinking of dramatic titles to use if my life were a movie, the Lord usually gives me a word or phrase to meditate on instead.

Jesus must have understood how much I was thinking about growing old, my kids growing up, watching my parents age as they care for their aging parents…because he gave me Isaiah 26:4.

Trust in Adonai forever,
for the LORD Adonai is a Rock of ages.

Rock of ages. I’m no Bible scholar, but I dearly love how some translations say “of ages”. My sons, my parents, my grandparents, me. The Lord is sovereign over our every decade because he is in control forever. How comforting it is that one thing is constant. He’s the everlasting rock.

The concept of aging has pushed me to process a full range of emotions the last two weeks. I’ve laughed when it seemed I should be crying. I’ve cried when I was trying to hold it in. I’ve been quiet without trying. I’ve had things I’ve wanted to say and I’ve struggled to know what to say.

So many silent prayers have only been three words: Rock of Ages. Sometimes it’s all I can offer. But it fixes me on a future filled with hope. For me. For my family who have walked with Jesus for decades. I’m so grateful we have hope beyond our years.

While I draw this fleeting breath, 
when mine eyes shall close in death, 
when I soar to worlds unknown, 
see thee on thy judgment throne, 
Rock of Ages, cleft for me, 
let me hide myself in thee.
Rock of Ages, Reverend Augustus Montague Toplady, 1776

Take care & take heart,