by Sr Nunother  

There’s an NBA player, who, when he disagrees with the ref and the foul shooter misses the free throws, yells “Ball don’t lie!”  Well, I’m convinced mirror don’t lie either. A few days ago, a sister celebrated a milestone birthday.  I was part of a small group singing at her celebration.  It required a costume and my try-on went something like this, “Hmm, well, this neckline makes me look old; actually the sleeves on this one make me look old; you know, this color makes me look old.”

Reality dawns – mirror don’t lie – I’m aging. And why is that a bad thing?  My maternal great grandmother was a wonderful presence in my life. When she came to visit, usually for a two-week stay, my mother would buy her favorite slippers. They were either purple or blue, made of felt, and purchased at the W.T. Grant Company. They fit nicely over swollen feet and my sisters and I loved helping Grandma put them on. She was from the farm:  practical, wise, and without pretension. Her face had wrinkles, a stream of them, making her skin soft and interesting. White hair was tied back in a tidy bun and she wore dark dresses with white collars. She kept busy knitting warm mittens and surprised us with colors we hadn’t thought of. At least once during the visit, she baked old fashioned ginger cookies, so un-fancy you’d think them easy to bake. They’ve never been duplicated. She was beautiful in her simplicity and lived a long life, not trying to recapture anything. I hope to do the same.