There is an aging image in my mirror this morning; an image that I feel I should know. He appears familiar, yet I can’t or perhaps, choose not to place him. The seasons of life have etched his face with wrinkles and a weathered look. His eyes seem to reflect a hint of the stories he could tell, if someone took the time to listen. The hair that once was is now sparse and white. There is sadness in his face, perhaps from unspoken regrets or an ongoing loneliness. What life paths has this image in my mirror traveled? What disappointments and losses has he experienced?
I find myself curious, wanting to find the answers to these questions, interested in knowing more about this aging man who stares at me from my mirror. I wonder when I glance away if he, too, deflects his eyes away for a moment. What is he thinking as he looks at me? Does he have the same questions I do? How does he see me? Perhaps he sees me as I see myself with youthful face and curious eyes, wanting to explore all that life has to offer. My long black hair combed back, reflecting the idol influence of my time. There’s a smile on my face with no care in the world, feeling the invincibleness and permanence of youth. Yes, he must see these things, he must see my reality as well as I see his.
We are like the seasons, this image and I. He is winter and I am spring. He has lived his life and I am just getting started. There is a summer yet to come and a fall, but for now, I am enjoying my youth. It’s good to be alive and seventeen with all the seasons ahead of me, all of my hopes and ambitions yet to be realized. I don’t envy this aging image in my mirror and can only hope he has had a good life, yet by his sad stare I am certain that his life wasn’t the way he had thought it would be. His youthful hopes and dreams must have not worked out as he thought they would.
A noise in the background interrupts my thoughts, a sound familiar, yet unexpected. As I open my eyes to look, the image in the mirror is fading and an unclear brightness is taking its place. I rub my eyes to see clearer and at that moment I realize it is morning. Have I been dreaming? Was this image in my mirror just a dream? I shake my head as the realness of the dream lingers. It takes me a few minutes to convince myself that it was a dream, knowing it will be awhile before I accept that reality.
“Lord, I thank you for this day,” praying as I usually pray each morning. “Thank you for all of Your blessings in my life and for my family and friends”. Heading for the bathroom, I still felt the lingering effect of the dream, but more convinced that it was just that, a dream. Turning the light on, I look in the mirror.
Startled, I rub my eyes and look again. The aging image in my mirror is still there, but how can that be. It was a dream, which I am sure of, so how can the image in the mirror still be there.
A scripture comes to mind; “To everything there is a season and a time for every purpose under heaven: A time to be born and a time to die; a time to plant and a time to pluck up that which is planted;” (Ecclesiastes 3:1-2 KJV)
An aging image in my mirror this morning; an image that I feel I should know. He appears familiar, yet I can’t or perhaps, choose not to place him. “Lord, forgive me for not wanting to accept my reality. You have created me in Your image and have established my life and times. I know I am exactly who and where I need to be at this moment. Help me to accept this and remember it with each moment of each day. Thank You for the seasons of my life, Amen.”
Copyright © 2011 LeRoy Dean All Rights Reserved