Multitude Monday with a Side of Self-pity

We don't own a full-length mirror or a bathroom scale. Most of the time then, I'm unaware of how my weight is doing or how my aging body appears. The scary glimpses come four times a year as I try something on at thrift stores.

It so happens that 10.5-year-old Peter outgrew all but one of his size 12 jeans. His doctor told me if Peter keeps growing at the current rate, he'll be 6 feet, 2 inches tall as an adult (regardless of his parents' heights of 5'8'' and 5'3''). The five pairs of jeans I found for him back in June are now waiting for brother to fit into.

Yesterday I went off to the thrift store in search of size 14 slim jeans, or at least size 14 jeans with adjustable waists.

A high-quality, fairly new ladies sweater caught my eye so I meandered over to the dressing room, only to nosedive into self-pity.

Youth, where have you gone? We just rendezvoused together last week, didn't we? Why have you forsaken me, oh comforting friend? What becomes of me now?

My hair, thin and lifeless, badly needed a new perm or a cut to revive the March perm. The self-pity of youth-long-gone, something I'm usually too busy to dwell on, caught up with me and I stopped by Best Cuts on the way home, hoping for a lift in spirits and hair. The last two times I've been there I vowed to never go again, but I felt desperate.

They messed up a one-length chin bob but after 60 minutes of my working on it at home too, I like it. You have to pin up most of the hair and cut the underhairs very short before going forth with a chin bob, otherwise the underhairs peek out and look ridiculous. You'd think cosmetology school teaches this concept? Probably, but maybe I've just run into people with no work ethic?

I pinned up my hair and tried to get my fingers and arms and elbow in the right position to cut my own underhairs, before evening up the rest--in the same weekend I cut Paul and Beth's hair. I'm learning new things, friends. Beth's natural curl is gone and she needed a shoulder-length cut to have any bounce to her hair. The length weighed down her body and bounce, as happens to my hair.

As I struggled in the mirror, God worked on my self-pity. He hates that emotion and never lets me bathe in it for long. Being low-income is hard a lot of the time, particularly when it means you can't make the most of the looks God gave.

So what did God do? He brought third-world women to my mind, who usually don't have a bathtub or shower and must bathe in dirty water, with or without soap. They don't own curling irons, hairspray, home color treatments (I'm still too scared to use one), make-up, moisturizer or acne medicine.

God spoke some more. When you age and lose any looks you had, or when you're unable to make anything of your looks, what do you have instead? What do you have instead of self-involvement and vanity?

You fill up more on God. The more that's stripped from you, the more you feel connected to God as the lover of your soul. Only God doesn't change. Only God gives a fountain of life that never runs dry. 

Youth? Fleeting.
Looks? Fleeting. 
Motherhood? Fleeting.
Your possessions? Fleeting.

Wisdom comes with age? I think yes, but only because wisdom comes when one's focus shifts from inward to outward.

The solidarity God makes me feel with the poorest of the poor? It keeps me ever thankful and ever concerned about caring for the least of God's people. They not only need His love, but ours too. His love sustains their souls and our love brings them right-now hope, comfort, and physical health. Our love is an extension of God's love. It's the necessary, earthly version.

Giving Thanks Today:

• The Lord, my fountain of Life.
• The Spirit, who teaches, comforts, and gently rebukes.
• My husband, who made dinner while I fixed my haircut nightmare.
• My husband, who denies I've probably gained four pounds in the last two years (not good on a small frame but lowered metabolism is expected at my age. I have to make some changes.)
• That fantastic sweater on sale for one dollar.
• Three pairs of nearly-new jeans for Peter.
• Brand-new holiday dresses for my girls--tags still on one of them--for singing in the Christmas choir on stage. God keeps track of my needs before they're even on my radar. I hadn't even thought yet of what they'd wear on stage, but last year they were the shabbiest of the girls up there and that made me sad. God understands my Momma heart?
• Sight word learning videos from the library for my girls.
• Finding a newer version of Charlotte's Web at the library with real people and enjoying it as a family movie. The spider and all the animals were so realistic, even as they talked! 
• On Saturday Paul performed in a piano recital the library offered. He did as well as most and better than some, even without formal lessons. My tears started with his first note and I couldn't halt the flood. God arranges things in ways we could never duplicate. The glory went to Him, not to Paul or to Paul's parents. The way the piano fell into our hands, the dedication Paul displayed, the procuring of piano books....all of it was God and He did it so that no mistake could be made as to whose power was at work. 
• As much as being low-income is hard, I see more and more that it gives God a unique opportunity to shine. He wants everyone cared for but he doesn't want everyone rich or well-off, regardless of what the prosperity preachers spout. A diverse society leaves room for the Glory of God. 
• The Bobbin Girl by Emily Arnold McCully, a perfect library find. It's about a ten-year-old mill girl from the 1830's, an era in which children worked long, exhausting hours six days a week. It fits in perfectly with Turn Homeward Hannalee, one of the historical fiction novels my boys just finished.
  Hannalee is a fictional, Civil War-era 12-year-old mill girl who worked 12.5 hours a day, six days a week for $8 a month, along with her 10-year-old brother, Jem. If they didn't work they didn't eat, which was the case with many children of the era (with the exception of the rich, Plantation-owning southern families). During the Civil War, Union soldiers burned down the mills making Confederate cloth and sent the child workers--without their parents--off to distant states to be used as low-paid labor for whomever was interested. Turn Homeward Hannalee is the incredible story of a young girl's strength, determination, and love of family. I highly recommend it for any child in need of a thankful heart this holiday season. Children need to know that life has not always been so easy for America's children.
• Loving gesture from a sweet, tender-hearted friend.

 Giving thanks with Ann today.

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