Guys. I have them.
My first set of wrinkles.
There's these crinkles under my eyes and creases at the edges of my smile that didn't used to be there, and when I bend my wrist there's these little lines--lines like the marks in the desert soil when it's been too long between rainfall.
I'm 26 years old, but I swear I feel the exact same as I did four years ago when there wasn't a line in sight...
Now lots of you are probably laughing because you're older than me, or because I'm being a little melodramatic (and I know that I am). But, well, still! It be crazy that I'm changing.
Kevin and I were looking at pictures the other day, and we came across one from our dating days. He looked like he was just a little boy, and I wondered how that could possibly be. We've known each other less than four years and been married for three of those, yet here we are... older... wrinklier.
This wheel of life, this motion of growth and constant change (or a house in a constant state of entropy, as my mom used to say) is part of my life and yours, yet why do we feel like such strangers to it? Why do we comment over and over again on each others' children "my how you've grown! Nuh-uh, there's no way that's Caden..." when OBVIOUSLY months and years apart result in change?
While we form and flourish and later crust and crumble, I do know this:
That old primary song for birthdays, "one year older and wiser too," they're speaking the truth. The older we get, if we're living life right, we're gaining smarts and wisdom, which is kind of awesome.
And this I know too, that we're forever. We're not just this life, guys. These wrinkles, they're not forever--the pains and problems that come with an aging body, they're dissipated--Zapped, if you will--by the power of Christ's resurrection.
I struggle sometimes with the idea of an afterlife or resurrection, because lots of people I love have died to young or suffered so much and I just wonder how they're still around when my emptiness for them is so real. But time after time, God sends me a calm, peaceful reassurance. I don't just have 100 years to live, nor do they. We've got years beyond death, and a perfect body to go with it.
Until then, I'mma embrace these wrinkles. This song by Diamond Rio helps me to do that.
But when the time comes, heck, perfect resurrected body--I'm excited for ya.
My first set of wrinkles.
There's these crinkles under my eyes and creases at the edges of my smile that didn't used to be there, and when I bend my wrist there's these little lines--lines like the marks in the desert soil when it's been too long between rainfall.
I'm 26 years old, but I swear I feel the exact same as I did four years ago when there wasn't a line in sight...
Now lots of you are probably laughing because you're older than me, or because I'm being a little melodramatic (and I know that I am). But, well, still! It be crazy that I'm changing.
Kevin and I were looking at pictures the other day, and we came across one from our dating days. He looked like he was just a little boy, and I wondered how that could possibly be. We've known each other less than four years and been married for three of those, yet here we are... older... wrinklier.
This wheel of life, this motion of growth and constant change (or a house in a constant state of entropy, as my mom used to say) is part of my life and yours, yet why do we feel like such strangers to it? Why do we comment over and over again on each others' children "my how you've grown! Nuh-uh, there's no way that's Caden..." when OBVIOUSLY months and years apart result in change?
While we form and flourish and later crust and crumble, I do know this:
That old primary song for birthdays, "one year older and wiser too," they're speaking the truth. The older we get, if we're living life right, we're gaining smarts and wisdom, which is kind of awesome.
And this I know too, that we're forever. We're not just this life, guys. These wrinkles, they're not forever--the pains and problems that come with an aging body, they're dissipated--Zapped, if you will--by the power of Christ's resurrection.
I struggle sometimes with the idea of an afterlife or resurrection, because lots of people I love have died to young or suffered so much and I just wonder how they're still around when my emptiness for them is so real. But time after time, God sends me a calm, peaceful reassurance. I don't just have 100 years to live, nor do they. We've got years beyond death, and a perfect body to go with it.
Until then, I'mma embrace these wrinkles. This song by Diamond Rio helps me to do that.
But when the time comes, heck, perfect resurrected body--I'm excited for ya.
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