The first thing I do each morning is head to the bathroom, as I'm sure many people do. And every single morning, I wash my hands and stare into the mirror above the sink. Every single morning. Like the possibility exists that I may have changed physically somehow overnight ... thinner, heavier, grayer, younger, worse, better ... and on and on.
A few weeks ago, I had a revelation as I stared into the mirror on a bitterly cold January morning. I realized that my morning gaze into the mirror wasn't about overnight physical changes at all, but rather about something much more profound and life-changing. I realized that I was looking for something much deeper, something much more lasting. I've spent years of my life looking into the mirror searching for myself.
It's so easy to slip into the daily routine of life and to identify who I am by all kinds of tags or labels or names ... I'm a mom; I'm a Christian; I'm a writer; I'm a speaker; I'm a gardener. And while I fill all of those roles and more every day, who am I really? Down in the deepest recesses of my soul, in the place where only God can see and know my innermost thoughts and desires, who am I?
Perhaps the answer to that question lies in the journey of life; perhaps I will find it in the daily walk along the path. Perhaps I am ever-changing, always growing and constantly learning, and the answer will come at the end of the winding road that has been my life. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.
For now, I will rise each morning and gaze into the mirror. I will look for me for a time. Then, I'll switch off the light, feed the dogs and have a cup of tea.
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