I’m pretty sure my wedding dress is still in there–though I can’t be totally sure since I haven’t opened that box since the cleaners sealed it in 1971.
They buried my husband’s grandmother in hers. If I passed on today, there’s not a chance they’d be able to squeeze me into mine.
Not. A. Chance.
I can’t say it doesn’t bother me.
I notice things that maybe others wouldn’t give a second thought.
Like how that MSU shirt seems to make things that roll and sag more prominent—that I didn’t see until I saw a photo. That shirt’s in the goodbye bag now.
Like how much broader my shoulders and how much wider my upper arms seem, along with the back-of-the-hand crepe.
Like how my waistband slides up. We won’t mention the bunions or the skin tags.
I can definitely say it all bothers me.
I don’t remember ever judging my silhouette, and if my weight crept up a couple pounds, I simply avoided dessert for a couple days.
I never was one much for exercise, but then that didn’t matter much while running hospital and public health department halls.
But now that I’m more sedentary…
I’ve tried various exercise and diet plans and simple clean eating, and even a trainer for a short time–not just for appearance, but also for health—and was never disciplined over the long haul. But this past Saturday, I watched runners and walkers line up at Alpenfest, and realized I’ll be 65 by this time next year. Then my sissy reminded me I’d be 70 in our next family decade birthday year. That sealed it. I want to be around for that party, so I’ve decided I’ll be lining up at that line next year. That means I need to do some serious training.
I also want to look good, maybe even better than now.
I’ve been thinking all week about Jesus—how we really don’t know what He looked like. He must have been in good shape considering His line of work and all the walking He did. But the only real hint we have to His appearance is how Isaiah described Him.
For He grew up before Him like a tender shoot, and like a root out of parched ground; He has no stately form or majesty that we should look upon Him, nor appearance that we should be attracted to Him. ~Isaiah 53:2 (NASB)
The Bible, my pastor says, does not tell us what Jesus looked like because looks don’t matter.
God sees not as man sees, for man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart. ~1 Samuel 16:7 (NASB)
Because the external is extinguishable, but the internal is eternal.
God doesn’t care about muffin tops or age spots or wrinkles or warts. He doesn’t care if we’re disfigured or disabled. He favors the forlorn and forgotten, the fearful and the faithful.
He loves the beautiful, too.
But the good news is that His eyes behold us all beautiful.
A perfect fit.
And we’re going to make a beautiful bride.