Wrinkles

 January 22, 2022

I might be in trouble for tonight’s musings, but it’s worth it if I’m able to adequately express my heart. 

Ginner ruined all those mother-in-law jokes for me. She was a rare soul, a woman of guarded strength and open love and generosity. When I say “guarded strength,” I mean she didn’t flaunt it around, but instead lived humbly, in some ways in the shadow of her husband. He was definitely the man of the house, but after he died, we were able to see in clearer light the forcefulness of her personality. She was the most selfless woman I’ve ever known, returning kindness for insult and gentleness for ill-treatment, constantly busy helping any and all who needed her.

Linda has often said she wishes to be like her mother. I think she already is. She is kind and generous to others, often at great cost to herself. She knows how to listen and hear the heart of whoever is speaking to her. I cannot imagine life without her; she can do more work in an hour than I can accomplish all day, and no matter how tired she may be at the close of the day, if one of the grandkids call or want to stop over, she will be there with a spring in her step and a lilt to her voice. Like her mother, she is generous, selfless, and kind.

There is only one way Linda didn’t want to be like her mother. As she got older, Ginner’s face was deeply wrinkled. Most of them were laugh lines that highlighted her ready smile. Linda will look in the mirror and exclaim, “Look at this! I look just like my mother!” Honestly, most of the time, I don’t notice, because I see her soul, which is as smooth and soft as the day she was born. Today’s gratitude suggestion is “something wrinkled, smoothed, folded.” Tonight, I fold my hands in grateful prayer for the wrinkles on her face, knowing I have the blessing of living with a woman who has none on her soul.