This lovely lady has a spotlight in my YouTube video from the other day. I look forward to sharing that with you here:
She’s a lovely maiden in bronze, and someone made her by hand, and yet, I can find nothing about her creator. She lives on, but her artist’s name has faded into history. So, she sits here, unknown in name, unknown in artist, on my shelf. 5,000 miles from where she started.
I’ve been thinking a lot about beauty and its skin-deep nature.
Women are so beautiful. We’d do well to remember the blanket physical beauty that simply comes with being a woman. Curves and belly, breasts and lips, hands that work hard and show the grace of years of effort, strong thighs in all sizes, hips, and the sheer feminity of the wrist and collarbone; we’d do well to remember all the natural beauty that comes with the territory. We’d do well do carry ourselves like we know we hold this beauty.
That beauty doesn’t fade with age, but it sure changes. Hands wrinkle and leather, once powerful legs become unstable, lips thin and lose pigment…hair takes on a regal white…
I prefer to keep my time with my grandparents very private, but this time, perhaps for my own memories, I wanted to ‘document’ a touch of a recent visit… I spent some time with my 90-year-old Gram for her birthday last week; a vapor of a visit. Fifteen hours of travel so we could share 30 hours together in her little living room. A mattress on the floor and another precious pajama party…carry out pizza and puzzles in the game room…Bible verses and hymns… awakened all night by nurses visiting Grampa in the next room and falling back asleep to the endearing sound of her breathing. My bed on the floor at her feet, like a maid and her fine lady. The vulnerability of her age has wrecked me. I would do anything for her.
She is so beautiful to me. So very beautiful. True, she’s cared for herself very well and looks beautiful in accordance with our cultural standards, but that’s not why she’s beautiful to me.
She’s beautiful because of the gentle love and compassion that pour out of her in my direction whenever we are in the same room, it penetrates through the screen on video calls and pours out of simple text messages. I’ve felt this way my entire life. She’s human, to be sure. I love her in her humanity. She is an encouragement to me, I am an encouragement to her and we are true friends. Ours is a special bond, and we both know who blessed us with that bond. We are both old enough now to look back on the years and know it’s been something very special and God-given. She may sit these days quietly, like my maiden on my shelf, and to my profound and immense grief, many miles from away from me, like my maiden is miles apart from the atelier of her artist, but my Gram is beautiful because she KNOWS her artist, she knows her creator, and she never stops sharing His love. Her physical beauty is only amplified by her true beauty.
Gram and I share a reverse story from this bronze maiden and her artist. We WILL fade into history one day. I’m no longer a child. As a grown, contemplative woman, I live with the stark realization of how fleeting these days are, but OUR Artist will reign forever! He will not be forgotten.
To God be the glory for women and femininity, for Grammas and granddaughters, for artwork and beauty. For Grace and eternity. Forever and ever, amen.