"Why," she asked, "don't you color your hair? Don't you see there's gray creeping in there?"
I have to admit it's tempting sometimes.
But I'm going with real instead.
How do you make someone see that it's joyful to embrace the imperfections?
How do you explain that it's the gray in life that brings the colors out?
I've been noticing gray this week and taking great pleasure in it.
Gray little mushrooms on the forest floor...
... the restfulness of cool gray fog.
Gray has so many quiet shades we hardly ever notice.
But it brings peace to a view.
And how is it that so many with gray hair have an essence of peace to their spirits, too?
It's something to think about and aim for.
I looked up and saw a hawk soaring in the vastness of a gray winter sky.
Just beyond, the sunset was lovely in the soft monotone of a winter afternoon.
There are so many vibrant colors, and I treasure them all.
But sometimes the peace of gray brings rest and joy that all the colors of my paint box could not contain.
There can be great comfort in a little bit of gray.
Why hide it?
