Tree Rings

Cake is in the oven.
Presents are wrapped.
Card is signed.
Dinner reservations need to be made.

My oldest daughter, my firstborn, is celebrating her thirtieth birthday.
I don’t know how it happened.
One day she was playing and riding her bike with streamers on the handlebars.
Then, I blink and she is a beautiful, Godly, accomplished young woman.

Trouble is, I still see the little girl in her every time I look at her.
I still see the facial expressions that I know so well.
I still see the old teddy bear that everyone thought was a monkey.
The heart on its chest had fallen off many years ago.

Teddy is still there, on her bed, in her own apartment.
He is the sentinel, the watchman, the guard sitting silently.
He has been the faithful friend through ear infections, strep throat, and fevers.
He is a marker, a standing stone, a reminder of all that is precious and fleeting.

I look at myself in the mirror and see lines that were not there when I was younger.
My smile lines, marking all the wonderful moments of life.
My badge of honor for the privilege of having and raising five children.
Lines, like the rings of a tree, that mark the years.

Where have the thirty years gone? I asked my husband on her birthday morning.
We realize how young we really were.
Married at twenty-two and had our first baby at twenty-four.
Four more children would come; twelve years from the first to the last.

The passage of time.
I used to say, I will fit into my wedding dress when I am older.
That has not been true for quite a while.
That is fine; more than fine; I have been busy journeying and growing all these years.

Why would I want to airbrush away the memories?
I have been a wife for thirty-two years and a mother for thirty years.
That is fine with me.
Time has been passing but I have been too busy living to really notice.

It is days like this when we pause.
It is days like this when we need to check our perspective.
I cannot possibly have lived the years I have lived and look like I did when I was younger.
I really don’t want to.

We need to foster an appreciation of the passing of time in our children.
Growing older with grace is a natural beautifier.
We do not surgically enhance the giant Redwood trees.
Their longevity is part of their beauty, a sense of timelessness and magnificence.

We would never think to alter the number of rings we find when we look at its trunk.
We are amazed when we think of all the tree has withstood.
Somehow, we don’t allow ourselves the same leeway.
It is as if we want to take age rings away from our life to make us something we are not.

I have gray in my hair; lines around my eyes.
I will probably never tuck a shirt in ever again.
Each mark of my age is a badge of honor.
If I erase any of it, I am in essence erasing the years they are marking.

A seasoned face tells a story.
A body, softer around the middle, has nestled many sleeping babies and crying children.
The sprinkles of gray highlight the face, brightening it, illuminating the story it tells.
Age need not be an enemy; Age is the narrator of our life story.

For You have been my hope, O Sovereign Lord, my confidence since my youth. From birth I have relied on You; You brought me forth from my mother’s womb. I will ever praise You. I have become like a portent to many, but You are my strong refuge. My mouth is filled with Your praise, declaring Your splendor all day long. Do not cast me away when I am old; do not forsake me when my strength is gone…Even when I am old and gray, do not forsake me, O God, till I declare Your power to the next generation, Your might to all who are to come. (Psalm 71:5-9,18)

No matter our age, we have a job to do.
We have to proclaim the mighty works of the Lord so our children will hear.
They, in turn, will tell their children, who will tell their children.
A legacy of faith.

Tree rings telling the faithfulness of the Lord.
Tree rings proclaiming His mighty works.
Years to tell others about Him.
Years to make sure our generational faithfulness is intact.

Tree rings to tell His story.
His story that is written on the lines of your face.
His story that cannot and must not be erased.
Age is simply a marker as you journey with Him.

How can I airbrush away His faithfulness?
When I look at the woman in the mirror, my tree rings tell a living story of a living Savior.

Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as braided hair and the wearing of gold jewelry and fine clothes. Instead, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight. (1 Peter 3:3,4)

Tree rings on the outside, depicting the beauty on the inside.
That is our prayer; that is our hope, in Christ.

 

 

2 responses to “Tree Rings”

1. Beautiful, Gina! Absolutely beautifully written. I’m so thankful for the Godly influence you are in my life.

   Reply

   • Sarah,
     You and your family are very precious to me.
     What a blessing to be part of the same church family and worship the Lord together.
     Gina

     Reply