I walked on memory lane a few weeks
ago. Following our granddaughter’s birth, her daddy’s baby pictures invited
perusal. As I turned the pages of the photo album, I remembered the love in
every cell of my body for the babe and the bone-tired exhaustion.
I noticed the twenty-six year old me,
brown eyes sparkly with joy and a big smile. A darling brand new mama. I
noticed I looked prettier than I remember feeling in those post-partum days. What
I recalled seeing reflected in the mirror was my body stretched and saggy with
post-partum weight loss and my face pale with sleep deprivation.
My fifty-three year old eyes now see
a pretty woman nurturing a healthy baby, loving a hard-working man, and
creating a peaceful home. That young woman was good, full of love and dreams. She
also had insecurities and self-criticism that kept her from being present to
the daily opportunities and gifts in her life. I am sad over what my inner
critic took from my twenty-six year old me.
As I wandered through the old photos,
questions percolate in my heart. What might my someday older self say to me
about this current season of my life? What grace would she offer? What clarity?
What encouragement?
I hear God invite me to embrace my
uniqueness, my strengths… and my limitations. He offers me grace to be a learner and offers
his presence as I examine my fears and insecurities. He reminds me of my
belovedness as His perfectly human daughter.
These days I am grateful for my progress
in releasing the need to control life. I am learning to accept imperfection
when trying new things. I am learning to
move toward my fear rather than deal with the disappointment of lost
opportunity. I am learning to extend
grace to myself just as God does for me.
When I am seventy-five years old and
looking at old photos with my granddaughter, I want to see a woman who felt as
beloved and beautiful as she was. And still will be. And am right now… perfectly imperfect.
