Going Grey

There was an article in the paper a few days ago about why our hair turns grey or white as we age. Since my progress in that direction is the first thing my friends comment on when they haven't seen me in awhile, I was naturally interested. It seems it's mostly a matter of genes. But the thing that caught me in the article was a statement by the expert interviewed. Essentially, he said, there's a picture of you at the age of 100, and you progress toward that picture throughout your life. Isn't that a fascinating notion? It's made me look differently at everybody since I read it. And I think it's genes, yes, but like most everything, also environment. It's the living, not the genes, that give us laughlines, crow's feet, frownlines, scars and whatnot, and of course how we choose to adorn ourselves, wear our hair, spend time in the sun or not, are results of choices in life and how it's been lived too. Here's a picture of my grandmother when she was about 18 months old, give or take, and again when she was 94, about 6 months before she died. I do hope I'm progressing toward that silky white hair that my grandmother had, but it's still too soon to know.
Today I'm grateful for: JW, RM, AW, MH, DZ and all my good friends, for a peaceful life and good health, for sunshine and melting snow, for interesting work, for my spiritual director, for the people who keep our state parks beautiful, welcoming and accessible, and for the people who keep me in prayer.
Holding in prayer today: people who have no one to pray for them, MK, GL, LK, LN, MH, Eliot Spitzer, the presidential candidates, Selamawit Kifleyesus, the people of Belgium, people who work for ICE nad Homeland Security, religious sisters in Eastern Europe, the Sisters of St. Joseph in Tanzania.