Painting the Barn

I woke up this morning and assessed my situation. There was no denying the facts: it was as plain as the nose on my face. Down the corridors of my memory came advice so clairvoyant and clear like a clarion call. It was the only counsel my mentor and spiritual father, Rev. Paul Hackett, ventured to give the female segment of the student body.

There I was a young, eager, bright-eyed freshman looking up with veneration at a veteran minister with many campaigns; battle tested twenty years in the fierce jungle that made up Compton California.

"Ladies, please remember this..." he paused for effect. I, of course, was leaning forward in my seat with bated breath. What pearl of wisdom would he utter next, I wondered? In stentorian tones he somberly pronounced, "Do not paint the barn unless the barn needs painting!"

"Huh?" I said stupidly as I looked at him blankly. My neighbor, a sympathetic soul of sisterhood took pity on this tomboy and translated in a whisper, "He means don't wear make-up unless you need to!"

I nodded my head in acquiescences; I was only a a budding twenty-one year old. I had no intention of wearing make-up.

Adamantly through all the ensuing years I have been faithful to the vision. I only dabbed the war paint on if I had to attend a wedding or other special occasion. But alas, time moves forward and I am now over the hill. I momentarily brighten when I realized that when things go over a hill they pick up speed but the elation did not last long.

I looked in the mirror for a closer inspection. "Was this the face that launched a thousand ships and burnt the towers of Ilium" I pondered? Definitely not! How about sunk a thousand ships, I thought ruefully. Christopher Marlowe did not have my face in mind when he wrote the epic poem of Homer's Helen.

I sighed heavily and began to apply the paint, I mean, make-up. The barn definitely needed painting. "It's not the years; it's the mileage!" a sage-like Harrison Ford said long ago...I quite agreed with him.

Then like a bell another truth came ringing. This is for all of you out there who like me keep pushing middle-age further and further back the more you age. As far as I'm concerned, middle-age is about 65 now. I remember the days when they said you couldn't trust anyone over 30!

"God does not see as man sees: for man looks upon the outward appearance, but God looks on the heart." (1 Sam. 16:7)

I am so grateful that He does because in my heart I'm still 21 years old.