Fifty-five plus Trenches of life

I'm learning a lot in this season of life.  How about you?  I've learned that I can't really see my face unless I use a five-times magnifying mirror.  I look much younger in the regular mirror (only to me of course) but when I use the five-times mirror...things come into focus that I didn't even know were there....like chin hairs and whiskers and trenches in my smile line and the eyes.. we'll just call them creases.  But it's the little hairs I can do something about. I've even bought a little electric thingy that will shave inside my nose!  Who would have ever thought????  I've never had my eyebrows waxed but I give them a regular tweezing. Then there's the coiffure....where did those grey hairs come from? There's a few wiry little guys that love to prance on top of my head.  I've found some delightful hair products that make my mane look thick and tame the corkscrews.  AND my beautician has found a process that highlights the color I still have. 

It's rough staying presentable in this fifty-five plus stage of life but it's worth it.  My five year old commented with concern to his mom the other day as they passed thru a restaurant drive thru ..."that lady looks like she is going to die soon."  She was older than me and very wrinkled....since I don't want my grandkids thinking that about me yet, I'll keep sprucing up what I can.  

Any tips you have to share, I'd appreciate!

Easter Hug From God

On Tuesday, April 14th, I'll move to Owasso, OK.  I have almost everything I own packed in boxes and in the process, I've sorted through it all, trying to decide what to get rid of and what to keep. 

Yesterday, I found an old cardboard file box in the garage that had very little in it. I started to just toss it but decided I'd better sort through it.  In one file labeled 'writings' I found a yellowed five page story that had been typed on a type writer.  It was entitled "God Gave the Song." There was no author's name but I"d kept the story years ago for some reason.  I took a break from my work, sat down on the concrete steps, and started to read it.  By the second page, I knew it was a resurrection story and a good one.  By the last page, tears splashed down my cheeks as I read of the Resurrection Day and saw the authors signature at the end.  It was signed and dated: Lynda Ann Basye,  March 30, 1983.  

 Lynda, my only sister, died March 24, 2001.  I had chills as I thought of the odds that I'd find her story, let alone find it on Easter weekend.  I couldn't wait to scan a copy to her daughter....my niece.  It would be equally as special for her.  She would have been only six when my sister wrote it so I doubted that she's seen it.  It confirmed to me how important writing is.  Eight years after my sister's death, her writing written twenty-six years earlier, blessed me mightily.