Thoughts of an Ageing Birthday Girl

A one year younger birthday girl

In the mirror I can see the birthday girl. I peer closely and notice the lines and soft skin and the few white hairs here and there among the red… I sigh.

I am desperately trying to stay in control of time, how it is affecting my appearance… but I know I am losing. The years are passing quickly. I am flying towards old age. "You’re not an old woman, Mum!” my girls insist. But I will be… soon.

I stand and look and think. All of a sudden, I am tired of fighting my ageing body. I am tired of always wanting to look younger. I’m tired of never being able to find a photo of me that I am satisfied with. I want to like what I see in the mirror (just like I like being who I am.) I want to feel comfortable inside my skin, this ageing skin. I want to feel at peace.

But I know peace will only come when I accept. Can I accept me as I am? Can I look at myself and, instead of sighing, be content? Why do I find it so hard to accept myself?

Gemma-Rose interrupts my thoughts. “Mum, you grow more gorgeous every day!” She flings her arms about me. And once again I am feeling very silly. What does it matter what I look like? I have something far better than youth.

I have love.

So I am handing over control… once again. I am going to try and accept what God sends, including this ageing body. At any moment in time, I am just as I am meant to be. I am just as God made me. I am perfect.

I look in the mirror at the birthday girl and I smile.