Rollin’ with the Wrinkles Matters of the heart create hidden marks and knobs of pain. Suffering comes in all sorts of shapes and sizes and is part of the privilege of aging. Everyone has a story, sometimes leaving wrinkles on our hearts.
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By Kathleen Wrigley
ell, I turned 50. A new decade. Older. Wiser. More wrinkled.
I am passive-aggressively sifting through reflections that come with this middle-aged milestone. For fun, I re-read my very first “On the Minds of Moms” column, “Rollin’ with the Punches.” I wrote that debut column 11 years ago as a token for my kids prior to a landmark date in my history: brain surgery on September 1, 2009. Penning that piece was for our children, Quinn, Patrick and Harper, to document how significant and whole they make me. Eleven years later, here is the sequel, “Rollin’ with the Wrinkles.” Wrinkles and dimples — in all the wrong places — are a natural part of aging. There are multibazillion dollar businesses built around smoothing out the lines in an effort to . . . what? Pretend they don’t matter? Or perhaps to erase the past? As if it were that easy. Believe me, I get it. I spend whole minutes smearing anti-aging creams over the cracks and crevices of my face, neck and hands, trying to reverse the years of skin-damaging, baby-oillathering sunbathing. The skin exposes age blemishes. Other wrinkles are buried deep in the cracks of the heart.
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ON THE MINDS OF MOMS | AUGUST • SEPTEMBER 2020
A Bismarck writer and television personality recently asked me to be part of a panel to share the journey of my wrinkled heart. She said it would help others. The request took my breath away. Although touched by the invitation, I politely declined. I have built some hefty gates around this vital organ these last few years, which goes against every grain of my being. The specifics are unnecessary here, but the painstaking process of healing and mending the broken pieces is critical. Does the heart have to be fully intact before helping others? The flight attendants tell us to “put your own oxygen mask on before helping others.” Some hurts will change the landscape of our hearts forever. Do we suffer a lifetime without helping our neighbors? Heck, no. Suffering is a bad word in our society. Plug your ears. Gate your hearts. Do not talk about matters of the heart. Often people would prefer not to listen to private heartache. Let the social media highlight reel roll. Ultimately the results can be devastating. Silent suffering with wrinkled hearts. We march on, hurting, nevertheless pretending. The restrictions make us bitter, not better. The pain ensues and then multiplies. This is not God’s will. Recovery and healing are excruciatingly raw and soulful chapters. Whatever the circumstances, healing is our responsibility. That process ultimately falls on our shoulders. Healing belongs to us. Maya
