What the Heart Reveals

When did this happen?

I looked in the mirror the other day and found someone new looking back at me. At least I hoped it was someone new, and not me. That could not be me. But it was. 

Ever had that experience? When you wake up one day and suddenly recognize the fact that years have passed and left an obvious trail across your face. Your hair has faded to gray or white and . . . well, you get my point. And why don’t we enjoy being slim when we are, instead of always thinking we’re fat? 

I was reminded of this passage of scripture:

Do not let your adornment be merely outward—arranging the hair, wearing gold, or putting on fine apparel—rather let it be the hidden person of the heart, with the incorruptible beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is very precious in the sight of God. I Peter 3: 2-4

I pulled this segment out because these are the words that apply to my post. You may recognize the passage. It starts out with “Wives, likewise, be submissive to your own husbands . . . ” Yes, that one. But that’s a subject for a different day.

I realized on this particular day that it’s not the outward appearance that really matters. We try to look our best and keep ourselves in good physical shape, but if our main emphasis is on the outward, we’ll end up an empty shell. The shell might look good, but in times of trouble (pressure), it crumbles. 

I’m not saying you should ignore what time is busy doing to the skin you’re in, but don’t spend so much time worrying over it. Don’t spend your life’s savings trying hold back the tide. Or your grocery and/or gas money, for that matter.

Do read, study, pray, do good works, show kindness, spread happiness. Smile. In this way, you bury treasures in the hidden places of the heart. There’s no guarantee you’ll overcome all that life throws at you, but your chances are better if you’ve got a stockpile of treasure laid up for eternity. 

Late to Work

The woman in the car behind me is late for work. I know this, because she is so close to my bumper I can’t see her headlights. What I can see is her mascara brush, as she applies it in front of the rearview mirror. 
     The hair on my forearms stands up as I apply the brake to see if she’s paying attention. She dropped her mascara brush. I pick up speed again and she stays right with me. I decide to do her a favor and slow down. That way, she’ll have time to finish her makeup. She waves her hands in the air. Drying her nails maybe?
We’re driving along a winding stretch of two-lane road and I still can’t see her headlights in my rearview mirror. My gaze bounces between her and the road ahead. I hope no one pulls out in front of me or stops suddenly, since she has progressed to eyeliner. I would hate to mess that up. Now that’s skill, folks. Applying eyeliner at forty miles an hour. 
By this time, I’ve decided she’s actually connected to my car’s bumper. She’s letting me drive so she can apply her makeup. Genius. As I ease to a stop at a red light, I see she’s now applying blush. I take off slowly, so she can remain attached to my bumper. At the next red light, she fluffs her hair. That should be the last phase. I think she’s finally ready for work. I decide to do her a favor and pull into a parking lot. Unobstructed, she hits the gas and hot-foots it through the intersection. 
Feeling quite free myself, I pull out of the parking lot at the first available moment and make my way through town. Five minutes later, I see her again. She’s parked on the side of the road right in front of a police car with flashing lights. 
Oops, I think she’s going to be late to work.