Dehydrating

I did not expect growing older to feel like dehydrating. I received the general heads up about the wrinkles, but I didn't think I'd feel that what was left would be more me instead of less. Parts of myself are falling away, no longer useful for who I will be, but instead of a loss these parts that remain are better, more concentrated, more distinctly, authentically me. So much time that was consumed by self-conscious fears and the complexities of bearing children, now goes to the complexities of raising children and bravely completing projects I'd have put way out of my league (and been right) in the past. The beginning of old age has been a much needed dent in my vanity. My running start is so much shorter than it used to be. The tricks of speed and beauty, essential to my youth, are not there, so I must rely on what's practiced but imperfect. I must admit I need help. I must admit I made mistakes.

These are very good things, worthy of wrinkles and grey hair.  Worthy of getting closer and closer to the the end of the show. Like all good gifts they comes down from the Father of Light.