Getting older....

I hear women talk all the time about getting older.......and surgically fixing their selves. On our drive through Utah I was noticing all of the billboards for lipo-suck-tion, skin peals, no cut face lifts and tons of others. This has been on my mind alot lately.

On Saturday I was sitting in the Temple..........doing as I love to do....... looking at every ones hands. I love old people, cute, white haired, old people. I am not sure what my fascination is with them, it sorta boarders on weired.....But what do you expect from me right? So going to the temple for me is great.....I get to sit next to them, talk to them and who knows maybe they will tell me a story or two. I think that its their history that I love. They are a walking, talking, history book, full of information, helps and hints.

For a while, well....... while in Portland.......my old people fetish was ruined by a cute little old man........ I would see him ride his bike or drive up and down the same street.....82nd. I just thougt he was lonley and had nothing better to do.......Then one day he turned into a dirty little old man. I figured out why he was driving up and down the same street.......I saw him picking up a prostitute on 82nd. After that my thoughts of little old men had been sorta smashed......

Old people in Idaho are so cute.....the men wear overalls, and are true farmers, that learned it from there fathers and grandfathers. The women are tiny, great at gardening and can grown anything in a rock bed. They seem so hard working...

and by their hands you can tell. Wrinkled, freckled, tough ........ but at the same time, soft and gentle.

We have been going to the temple alot lately and I have been Hand watching. I love to see peoples hands.....I Love to look at the person and try to tell if they are a gardener, a farmer, a mother, career minded or just a pampered person. Everyone in the temple looks the same clothing wise.......so thier hands are the best way to tell what the person is like. I still have baby hands and I often wonder what that means....or what people see of me when they see my hands. I am excited to have wrinkly hands, I want freckles and vanes that pop out. For me it just seems like a right of passage. Something that happens....so why fight it.

I don't wear alot of makeup and I am far from a high maintenance kinda gal. I like to wear casual clothes...comfortable ones..... and My shoes must be the same. You Will not catch me wearing high heals......the closes thing that I own to dress shoes is my sandals....and those stupid shoes that Nancy made me get for her wedding. (Yes I still have them...........and the dress). What I am trying to say is that I am comfortable with myself.....maybe not the extra 20 pounds I am carrying around. But I don't think the way to solve it is to go and change your self because of what others think about you.....its how you feel about yourself. I am looking forward to be old wrinkly and to have my right of passage.

Those Wrinkled Hands

by Sarah Berthelson

I saw those wrinkled hands the first time today

Thinking how often they were folded to pray Asking God's guidance to guide the way

Those wrinkled hands

Seems like just yesterday they changed the diaper For three little boys

They were not wrinkled then, just smooth and soft

Wiping a tear from their eyes to show great love

Placing a band aid on a wounded knee

Those wrinkled hands

The tender touch to those that was so loved

The hands were beautiful, young and fair

Took for granted that they would always be there

Those wrinkled hands

God had guided those hands to do many things for Him

To cook the food, clean the house, to weed the yard

IT was often for others you see

The hands were strong not a concern at all

Those wrinkled hands

Today as I looked into my lap I saw knurled and wrinkled hands

It was a surprise to me as I could not believe

They were not there yesterday or were they

The biggest shock of all was

Those wrinkled hands belonged to me

Sarah Berthelson