Today I celebrate aging. Why not? It happens to all of us. And as some have said, the alternative is not that appealing.
Today I celebrate Mary and Martha. I don't know why I named them those names, but I did. Five years ago I discovered them. They have nothing to do with those sisters in the Bible.
Or do they?
In September I will turn 47 years old. It's not a big deal.
27 was earth-shattering. 30 was torture. 40 was an absolute blast.
But 47 is just a number.
However, I have found myself fixated lately with Mary and Martha, two signs I am definitely getting older.
At age 42, I sat deep in thought one day. If you know me, you know this is not a daily event. But as I thought, I reached up and touched my cheek. No big deal.
But then I felt Martha. I couldn't believe it. I reached to the other cheek and I felt Mary.
See, for some strange reason, part of the aging process for me has been the appearance of two single hairs. Symmetrically placed on each of my cheeks.
Left to grow, they shoot up like tall lonely reeds. Sometimes, I twirl them. Of course no one can be anywhere near me when I do this. I'm sure I look like a man straightening out his handlebar mustache. Or a cat cleaning his whiskers.
Two hairs. No more. No less.
Mary and Martha.
So, though I've owned these aging oddities for 5 years, just recently I've pondered, no, I've obsessed over them.
Maybe Martha represents that part of me that is worried about getting older. It's easy to get sidetracked into the disappointment of unrealized dreams. Or caught up in thoughts of wrinkles, walkers and wasting away.
Mary, on the other hand, or cheek, may represent that part of me that says "Who cares about the past or the future? Right now is what counts!" Sitting at Jesus’ feet and enjoying my life today as a 46 year old woman.
Every time I pluck Martha, I pluck Mary, too. I always hope I've seen the last of them. But they always come back. As a reminder of the ticking clock. Or a reminder to Carpe Diem.
Maybe I'm analyzing them too much. Yep, that's probably it.
So today I celebrate my two-haired beard. My symmetrical whiskers.
My Mary and Martha.
8 comments:
You're right, Robbie -- 47 is just a number. And take it from me, the numbers just get more ridiculous with each passing year :)
Robbie:
I couldn't name all my wild hairs! Glad you only have two.
Love the post, glad you're back.
Now to get to mine...
You have been missed. Glad you are back posting.
Martha and Mary - only you, Robbie would name your hairs and dare to post about them where we all can know your deepest, darkest, hairiest secrets.
Wait until the age spots start on your hands. When you are sitting in a waiting room you can play dot to dot and see what creative design you come up with.
Cheryl, Thank you, it is just a number!
Loretta, Go girl! I'll be checking your blog!
Diane, You CRACKED me up! Dot to dot. :0)
I love your honesty, Robbie. You have inspired me to name, and make friends with, all of the wrinkles growing around my eyes. Oh wait, I don't know that many names...
Dianne, you made me laugh! But when I see you I see someone extremely young looking - never noticed any wrinkles. Your young heart shines through.
You're one of a kind, Robbie!
I would never talk about my scraggly beard and one wild neck whisker online. You are brave.
You know we will all be checking out your cheeks from now on.
Kay, uh-oh. If you start looking at my cheeks you may only see the nuts I'm storing up for winter. Mary and Martha are blond. :0)
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