My band took a lot of abuse--because I wore it almost all the time. In the garden, scrubbing toilets, painting walls, changing diapers, beating eggs, stripping layers of old paint---sanding--scrubbing---it stayed on my finger---and thus suffered the abuse in the day to day of living. It has dings and dents which seem to mar the perfection of the perfect circle.
My sweet neighbor--a dear Southern belle--one of the last of that dying breed, softly told me one day not to worry. Her wise words were "Those dents and dings are all part of living and make the band even more special." I looked at her with amazement for who knew this soft spoken-always gentle icon of the South harbored such wisdom!
The band is gone now--but my body is showing the dents and dings that have come with time and living. Scars, wrinkles, sun spots, and the less permanent bruises--all resulting from life. I could wrap myself into a safe cushioned cocoon and stay hidden under the cool cover from the sun---carefully preserving the perfection of youth, but at what cost?
I believe I prefer to tussle with the boys and wear my bruises with pride. Those scars all tell a story--a story of birthing three amazing off-spring---a story of failed body parts which had to be removed---a story of adventures and mishaps. The deep lines at the sides of my eyes---all came after hours of smiles and deep side splitting laughing. The spots from too much sun would fade--if I were only willing to stay out of my yard, off the beach, away from the pool, and off the trail. I could look more perfect, but at what cost?
So--here I am---dents and dings---living life to the fullest--with the scars, wrinkles, bumps and bruises to prove it!
You make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.