A few weeks ago, I turned 33. Several friends joined our family to enjoy cake and ice cream together. An older couple that was there asked me how old I was. I made the dumb mistake of asking them how old they thought I was. Maybe 39? Uh, no. Try 33. Really? (smiling…) I’m not sure how to take that. I guess I figured that you seem wise beyond your years. Really, you’re just 33?
As long as I can remember, I’ve always been mistaken for being older than my real age. I’m not sure what about me exudes that kind of maturity. But I’ll take it.
I don’t actually have any gray hair . . . or at least very little of it. Apparently, I don’t need any help on appearing mature. But I really value the wisdom and life experience of those around me that have gray hair. Of course, I’m using that as an euphemism for decades and decades of life.
What if we thought of gray hair as a badge of honor? A sign of a life lived humbly, one day at a time, through thick and thin. A sign that this person has accumulated wisdom the only way possible: with time, perseverance, and patience.
So, I say — instead of covering, coloring, or otherwise hiding the gray, we should wear it gladly. And look at others that are blessed with it as having earned it.
Okay . . . I know that gray hair can come prematurely. And wisdom and age are not the same thing. Fine. But you know what I mean. If you really want to know why hair turns gray, take a look at this article.