Looking in the mirror this Wednesday was a jarring experience. It was not (primarily) that the image I saw disappointed; it simply did not conform to the image I carry in my own head. It was not me. The woman in the mirror looked old! How did that happen?
The pandemic years certainly took their toll on my body. My shoulders have started stooping. My spine has grown resentful of its task. The long walks I have loved since childhood have been severely curtailed. Running is out of the question. Typical middle-age “softening” has been exacerbated by lack of exercise. And the wrinkles on my face are not the smile lines I had hoped for, but furrows carved into a brow often knit together with pain. Alas!
On Wednesday my daughter’s homeschool co-op came to study at our house. While their clear, youthful voices were lifted in praise to God, my mind was wandering - searching for a plan to reverse my aging. I cannot remember what schemes I was conjuring when the Eternal One, the Ancient of Days, gently interrupted my thoughts with His humor. He reminded me of a gift He had given me 15 years, and 15 pounds ago.
Right around my 40th birthday I was invited to coffee by two lovely women in their 20’s. The young ladies had questions. They wanted to soak up the wisdom and counsel of older, godly women, and I was honored to be on their list. Even so, as I looked into their bright young eyes and saw the smiles on their fresh young faces, I began to feel old. I figured that my wardrobe needed updating for starters. Maybe I could get one of those cool looking sundresses K was wearing. Or maybe I should enroll in an exercise class…
I was running full speed down this path of vanity when my Father interrupted my thoughts.
”Amy,” He asked loudly, “Who is the most beautiful woman in the world?”
Somehow I knew this was not a trick question. An answer popped immediately to mind. “Mother Teresa! She is the most beautiful woman in the world!”
As soon as I answered, I felt chastened. I knew it was true. Mother Teresa was far more beautiful than any movie star and it was not clothing or exercise or face creams which made her so.
A few days later I happened to be in the post office. To my great delight I discovered the US government was selling Mother Teresa stamps! (This was about a year after her death.) I bought a page of stamps to keep as a reminder of my Father’s lesson and put them in a wooden desk sorter in our kitchen counter where they would stay in sight. Then things got strange.
My brother-in-law came to visit. When he walked into our house, the stamps caught his eye. “Amy,” he exclaimed, “how did you get stamps made of yourself???”
“What???” I asked.
“Those stamps have your picture on them,” he replied.
“No,” I laughed, “That is Mother Teresa.” I brought the stamps over so he could see. I think he felt embarrassed for mistaking me for an ancient, wrinkled woman, but in light of my conversation with the Father, I found it intriguing.
Then later on the very same evening, my mom joined us for dinner. When she walked into the kitchen she exclaimed, “Amy, you had stamps made of yourself. That is so cute!”
“OK, Lord,!” I thought. “I get the joke!”
Why the God of glory should find anything beautiful about me, or any human for that matter, is a mystery. I cannot comprehend it, but I know from scripture that it is true. Furthermore, the Son has taken a human face. Forever He will remain both God and Man. Jesus lives in a resurrected human body.
I have never lived apart from my body, and still I do not understand the mystery of this temple of flesh which holds the treasure of a spirit. Our bodies are not separate from ourselves. They are not mere containers for a soul. And yet, being flesh, our bodies grow weaker with age whereas our spirits grow stronger the longer and more fervently we love God. Every mortal temple will someday die. Every body will fail. Yet it is wrong to neglect the body or hate it, for our life depends upon it. So does our interaction with others. It is with our mouths that we speak, an with our arms we embrace. The image which our body carries in the material world is our key to recognizing one another. Thus the stamp-sized image of Mother Teresa evoked a sense of recognition for my mother and brother-in-law.
I find it interesting that scripture uses the image of a temple for our mortal frames. I have a strong preference for old churches! I love churches which smell like wax and churches with sagging wooden pews. I love steps worn by decades of foot traffic. I don’t mind if there are a few paint chips here and there, but I hate to see a neglected church. Neglect implies a lack of reverence for the worship which happens within a building, just as self-neglect indicates a lack of recognition of one’s dignity as a son or daughter of the Most High.
Sterile churches also make me sad. I mistrust a church which looks like an office building. Nor do I like glitzy churches which are used only on Sundays. I am not a fan of fog machines or fancy lighting. On the Catholic side, I dislike gilded baroque altars. They feel like too much make-up for me. I prefer the solidity of old stone, or the faded wood of a chapel in the country - a place where worship has been conducted in “spirit and in truth” for many years.
I hope that is what my Father sees when He looks down at my little temple. I hope that is what my friends and family see as well. And someday I hope to see Mother Teresa in all her resurrected glory and have a good laugh.