A Wrinkle in Time

Today I had to purchase something that many young women often feel deflated when purchasing - anti wrinkle cream. 

Yes, it's true. I spent a solid half hour reading the ingredients, "clinically proven effects", prices, and ounces of many different anti-wrinkle creams. Sure, I probably could have waited a few more years to do so, but the other day I noticed a junior wrinkle that was considering forming on my forehead. I met said pre-pre-wrinkle with fear, disgust, anger, and eventually humility.

As a young teenager, I remember thinking that I would never spend a great deal of money or effort (and still haven't, shout out) to cover up wrinkles because, in my mind, wrinkles tell our stories. Our laugh lines tell of our joys, our foreheads tell us our deep thinking, and our crow's feet tell of the many times we've had to squint from abundant sunshine.

Well, 28 year old Erin thinks young teenage Erin needs to get off her high hose and go to the store 'cause those "stories" are thinking about being read. 

In doing so, I found myself so thankful for all that has happened to tell those stories. Praise God for dreams that became realities, laughter that echoes through time, and so many days of sunshine.