So I posted 2 pictures a couple days ago with no explanation, just the title 'Strength'. They're not really beautiful photos per se, yet I saw beauty in them. Both were taken by son during his Christmas visit to Ohio. Both speak of age and strength. The second picture is an old tree root in the woods where I tramped around as a kid. I thought it a perfect accompaniment to the first one. The woman is actually my mom, the strongest woman I've ever known.
When I was breezing thru the picture slide show and this one came up, I actually gasped. It was startling. Jarring. Mom? Her poor hands are so knotted with arthritis and why is she covering her face? It was disturbing. I'm not liking my parents getting older. They are frozen in my mind as youthful, vibrant, bold and brash. Mom and Dad always seemed fearless to me and so brave. Dad was the Dragon Slayer, my protector. But truly, Mom was too. Picture Eowyn in Lord of the Rings, in full armor, bravely confronting the evil witch-king. That would be Phyllis. Not this aged woman with the crooked hands, sitting in a wheelchair.
She was actually goofing off while son took pictures. She's still fun to be around, telling long-ago tales of our family, amazing us with her detailed memory. She tires easily and often is sad. But the fire still burns within and she still confronts life head-on. Two years ago, the evil witch-king tried to kill her and she fought fiercely. She was wounded in that battle and still bears the scars. But she lived to tell about it. The witch-king will never have her.
The bible says that man looks on the outward appearance but God looks on the heart. My mom has a lot of heart. God bless her.