Grandma

Sometimes I really feel old. Not physically old, but I feel aged. I feel used up. I feel spent. I feel like I am looking back at everyone else, wishing to be in their shoes: the world at their feet. No, I wouldn't care if the shoes had holes in them from the places they've been, or dirt caked onto the side from the messes they've admittedly made, stepped in, and then walked off; no. Just the chance to breathe free air again: the chance to make of me whatever I would wish at that moment.

I look down and see my own shoes. Why don't I recognize them: the shoes with the holes and the dirt that I've developed and watched and ironically loved? Someone once said that we let people take pieces of ourselves, we give them away. I still feel you, gnawing at me like a ghost, even though I try to push you away. I feel like a grandmother, watching all of my children live with the freedom and the rapture and the boundless energy that I once had, smiling to myself that I was once in my prime, oh yes. Once I jumped without fear of not landing square on my feet, once I loved with a heart brimming with hope, once I sang at the top of my lungs and didn't care. But those times are over now.

Are they?

I keep trying to tell myself, "No, this is just the beginning; don't be fooled into thinking you're all used up. You are at a new beginning, a different beginning. One admittedly more terrifying, but wonderful and exhilarating." But then I catch sight of my worn shoes, pick them off of my feet, and examine their flaws - my flaws. I look down at the dust on the road, down at my scabby old lady knees who've seen a million years of spills and getting-back-up-agains, down at my weathered hands, down at my aching, wishful heart.

God sees beauty here, I think. Because when I see my worn shoes with their holes, God sees the times that He has carried me because my own two feet could not withstand the journey. When I see the lifeless dust on the road, God sees my past and loves me despite my mistakes. When I see my scabby old lady knees, God sees the twin instruments I bend to, fall to, and am thrown to in times of need. When I see my weathered hands, God recognizes their grip from when He has pulled me upward. And when I see my aching, wishful heart, I hope that God sees someone who is just scared and needs Him, more than anything, and loves Him more than anything.

I love to hear You say
Who I am is quite enough.
You make me worthy of love
And beautiful.