Going gray is a fate to be feared. I have countless memories of the women in my life rejecting their gray hair as if it were the devil himself. And now as I look into the mirror and see gray hairs of my own, I hear those messages surfacing.
Years of healing work with myself and other women have taught me that God loves all of creation, including the parts I’d rather exclude from love–like the increasingly droopy skin encasing my upper arms. If I can’t love my body exactly as it is today, whatever my weight or state of health or disease, then I settle for far less than the fullness of life that lives in my by the Spirit of God. And I cut myself off from the transformational power of God’s love.
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