“Do you suppose you will look the same when you are an old woman as you do now? Most folk have three faces—the face they get when they’re children, the face they own when they’re grown, and the face they’ve earned when they’re old. But when you live as long as I have, you get many more. I look nothing like I did when I was a wee thing of thirteen. You get the face you build your whole life, with work and loving and grieving and laughing and frowning.”

―Catherynne M. Valente, The Girl Who Fell Beneath Fairyland and Led the Revels There

I’m getting older, and with that comes a lot of expectations—some self-appointed, and some societally imposed. As our looks change, fade, and shift, our priorities often do, too. And while I am all about taking care of myself—getting proper rest, exercise, and eating right—I do not want another 9-step skincare process each and every night, including paper-mâchéing my entire face (i.e., Frownies), using a stirrup-style strap under my chin, and adding a slew of serums, creams, and lotions to possibly prevent wrinkles, age backward, or preserve something that cannot possibly be preserved: youth. In fact, beyond looks, the older I get, the less I want to edit myself at all, even though I’m really good at it.

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I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and automatically, almost without thinking, my fingers run along my jawline and give it a slight tug, pulling my skin just enough to make it smooth. Jowls—I think I’m getting jowls. Now, at almost 50, aging has felt like it happened little by little, then all at once. Sometimes I look in the mirror, and the reflection looking back reminds me of the insecurities that come with getting older. I’m not comparing myself with any other woman; I’m comparing myself now with my younger self. My body has changed. Things have shifted, and not in the way I want them to. I don’t look the same. I don’t have the same energy I once had.

My coloring has changed too. Did you know that your color season can change as you get older? I did not. I used to be a true Winter. I have cool undertones, so that hasn’t changed. But the “winter” season is about high contrast: dark hair, pale skin, dark eyes. My coloring has softened; that’s a nice way of putting that I’m literally fading. My hair has lightened with the added greys, and my lips and cheeks are paler and have lost their plumpness (almost as if other parts of my body absorbed it), while my skin remains as pale as ever. So I’m no longer a True Winter, but now a Soft Summer.

I wonder why all these changes seem to happen around the same time that our kids grow up and move out? Why do they happen when we’ve just finished raising, pouring into, and preparing our kids for the world, for them to move on from us in such a significant way? It’s good and natural for them to do this, of course, and this was our goal. But it’s like that short but intense feeling after you’ve given birth, of a void -where something wonderful has been. The feelings are so raw and vulnerable, and you wonder if you’ll ever feel that fullness and purpose again.

Just like with appearance, middle-aged women seem to fade into the background, which can feel like fading into oblivion. I protest, thinking, why didn’t anyone tell me this would happen? Why didn’t anyone tell me how hard this season was so I could prepare? Then I remember that other women did share this with me—some much older and some just slightly older—confiding in me how hard it was for them when their kids moved on, how their bodies had changed, and how they no longer recognized themselves. How fast everything went. I had listened to them. I had heard them and maybe even pitied them, thinking that would certainly not be me, since I was preparing now!

Now I realize there are things you cannot prepare for because you do not have the context for them. You don’t understand the pressures, emotions, or circumstances of what will happen. The only way to truly understand it is to go through it yourself.

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” 2 Cor. 12:9

This season, when I’ve felt like I’m fading, sometimes into oblivion, I’m reminded of my need for Jesus’ grace. He doesn’t give it to us before we need it or all at once, but daily he ministers to our needs. He still sees me as fully and vibrantly as I ever was, and I still am that way in Him.

“…Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.” 2 Cor. 4:16

Even with the struggles of this past season, I’m finally settling into and enjoying being an empty-nester. I’m establishing new goals for myself and looking forward to the future in a new way. I am reveling in being a Grandma (the absolute best thing ever!). I’ve mostly stopped tugging at my skin, but I hope that one day soon I won’t walk past the mirror with the automatic urge to do so. And instead, my slightly sagging skin, grey hairs, and weakening body will testify to God’s faithfulness and love for me.