Of Eyebrows and Impossibilities

 

Grace throws her green backpack on top of the pink and blue three-ringed notebooks on the floor in front of the passenger seat. She settles her flip-flopped feet on top of it all, buckles up and pulls down the visor. She studies herself in the mirror while she brushes her hair.

“My top eyelashes are darker than my bottom ones.” She bats them at me and then turns back to the mirror. “They look like they have mascara on them.”

“You have beautiful eyes.” I smile at her.

“I don’t like my eyebrows. They’re too bushy.”

“I like them. They look natural. Sporty and natural and beautiful.”

“Yeah, but look at all these stray hairs out here on the ends. I hate them. I need to pluck them or something. Stacy, her aunt waxed hers for her.”

“You don’t need to pluck or wax your eyebrows in fourth grade. They’re perfect just as they are. Anyway, lots of grown women are choosing the natural look.”

I trust that’s true.

Grace frowns, examines each side. “I hate them.”

I sigh. “Maybe when you’re in high school you can start to pluck if you still want to.”

“Wait until high school? That’s impossible!”

“Nothing is impossible.”

“What about lifting up a car with your tongue?”

I should not have taken a swig of hot coffee from my thermos at that moment.

“What made you think of that?” I’m choking.

“I saw a picture in a world record book.”

“Well, I never heard of such a thing. But I guess even that’s not impossible, then. And you know that nothing in God’s plan is impossible. He can do anything or use anybody. Like Elijah.”

“Huh?”

“He was this prophet back in the time before Jesus. And he challenged all these prophets of their false god to see if they could get him to rain down fire on their sacrifice. They prayed and jumped around and got louder and louder and even cut themselves.

And nothing happened. Big surprise, huh?

When it was Elijah’s turn, he had the people dump twelve big buckets of water on the sacrifice and on the altar and the firewood and filled a big trench around it all. Then he said a short prayer, and guess what? God shot down fire that burned up everything, including the water in the trench to show that He was God.

Pretty much impossible, right?

Oh, and Sarah got pregnant with Isaac when she was very old. And so did Elizabeth who had John. And Mary. Well, she was a virgin and got pregnant with Jesus. You know what a virgin is, right? ‘Nothing is impossible with God,’ the angel Gabriel told her. Peter told Jesus it was impossible for Him to be killed and raised alive in three days.

But it happened.

And don’t forget all the sick people Jesus healed and the demons He drove out.”

She’s rolling her eyes now, glad we’re pulling up to the curb. How’d we get here from eyebrows?

“But wait,” I say. “There IS one thing that’s impossible. You can’t please God without faith. You’ve got to believe in Him and turn your whole life over to Him.”

“I know, Grandma. I know.”

“Good. Now get out of my car, get into school, and go be a blessing to someone.”

And I hope she’s forgotten about her eyebrows now.

Counting the Gifts

My daughter was able to pull over and park in the middle of a bronchospasm.

This happened near a hospital where she got speedy treatment.

Peach-mango preserves on an English muffin.

My father passed cardiology and ENT followup.

The color black. It goes with everything and simplifies my wardrobe.

This week’s forecast for warm weather.

A Rose-Dog bud ready to bloom.

The women in my Bible study.

Minty fresh toothpaste.

Ice water.

New prescriptions for thyroid and vitamin D that could banish fatigue.

The sound of water flowing from the cats’ fountain.

The sight of a cardinal, a downy woodpecker, a bluejay, a red-winged blackbird, a sparrow, a flicker, and a dove–all at once.

Fourth-graders who love poetry.