Old Face in the Mirror

Have you looked in the mirror lately? I mean, really looked. The last time I studied the image I saw there, I said to it, “Hey, you’re getting old! I see the lines in your face, and I hope they are smiley lines, not frowning lines.” I remember when I was a young Sister, and saw the older ones, I thought I would want happy wrinkles someday like theirs, not sad ones. I’ve been working on that all my life, but many times I need to be reminded.

I look at my hands – they are old hands but they can still play the piano, the organ, and write letters to prisoners. I see my feet, they are old too, but they still take me where I need to go, though they complain a lot lately.

Sometimes it seems to me that everyone and everything around me is getting old; some are quite infirm, some more forgetful, and some are also beautiful examples of grace, of selflessness, of wisdom that needs to be tapped.

I work in a building that is one hundred ten years old, and it is full of memories of days gone by: the tiled floors, the beautiful woodwork and stained glass windows, our Sisters who lived and worked here, the countless boarders for whom it was a second home, the walls that have such stories to tell! And being school archivist, I deal with these things every day.

I am reminded of a poem that was given to me when I was a very young Sister at one of our diocesan teachers’ meetings. I was so happy to be able to find it today, and so I share it with you. I intend to make it part of my daily prayer:

Let me grow lovely, growing old--
 So many fine things do:
 Laces, and ivory, and gold,
 And silks need not be new;
 And there is healing in old trees,
 Old streets a glamour hold;
 Why may not I, as well as these,
 Grow lovely, growing old?                             By Karle Wilson Baker

Here is another one you may like:

Old things are more beautiful

Old things are more beautiful
than many things brand new
because they bring fond memories
of things we used to do.
Old photographs in albums
love letters tied with lace
recapture those old feelings

that new ones can't replace.
Baby shoes, a teddy bear,
a ring that Grandma wore,
are treasures waiting there behind
a door marked "Nevermore".
Old things are more beautiful,
more precious day by day.
Because they are the flowers
we planted yesterday.     Author: Clay Harrison

    Sr. Mary Carol Hellmann, OSB