I was taking my daily stroll through the beautiful blogosphere and found a grassy knoll under an oak tree’s shade that was perfect for sitting on a blanket as I read one of my favorite blogs. Linda (the author) is relatively new to the blogging scene but I love her voice and her writing is so engaging.
I have a lot of respect for Linda and I really like how she writes. However, I believe that we are two VERY different people. I have a sneaking suspicion that she leans a little right of center, whereas I couldn’t live more on the far left side of the aisle.
I love when I find someone with opposing views who can speak eloquently and from their heart. When we look at the world from another perspective, we challenge our own ideas and bias. In short, respectful disagreement aids each of us in growing to be a more thoughtful, intelligence, and compassionate person.
Even though we probably wouldn’t agree on very much, I can tell that Linda has a kind heart and I have a lot of respect for her. As I was reading one of her stories where she was talking about the measures she uses to remain youthful, it made me think of something that I haven’t thought of in a long time.
When I was growing up my sister always told my mom she thought her wrinkles were beautiful. They spoke to her age, wisdom, and life lived…which has been vast. It was only when I was much older when my mom told me she hated her wrinkles, but accepted them because of what my sister said.
Since Jessica thought wrinkles were beautiful, I did too (as I followed her lead always, and never thought to have a differing opinion~hero worship and all that). When we were younger my sister and I would scrunch up our faces in an attempt to induce laugh lines. I don’t have wrinkles yet, but I do sort of freak about my age (every once and awhile)…because I remember when I thought 5th and 6th graders were old and if you were 20, well you might as well be dead.
I look forward to embracing my wrinkles and will wear them as a badge of honor, thanks to my sister. It’s all in our perspective, isn’t it? It is a wonderful gift my sister gave me, because I will never fret over the wrinkles that will come.
More than wrinkles, I look forward to when my hands tell the story of the life I’ve lived. Our story, our beauty lies in our hands. I love my mom’s hands.
My mom has worked with her hands for over 4 decades and they contain great beauty and speak of times past. What strength, stories, and beauty she holds in her hands. She put food on our table and a roof over our heads, with her hands.
My mother-in-laws is an artist in every sense of the word, and creates beauty and grace with her hands. She suffers from rheumatoid arthritis. She has not let this stop her or even slow her down. She does more in a day than I do in a week and her hands tell her story. Her hands rival my mom’s for the beauty they hold.
This is my favorite photograph of all time.