This Old Sink

An idea came to us a few months ago to use an old farmhouse sink we've had for a couple of decades in a new, more creative way. This old, cast-iron gal is HEAVY, let me tell you. The spigots protrude from the wall instead of the counter like the old-school types, and it has a built-in drainboard. It was love at first sight when I spotted it at a little place off the side of the road near San Marcos all those years ago. I didn't have a place for it... sigh... but I had to have it nonetheless.

Over the years this sink has graced our garden as a makeshift place to rinse vegetables and has spent some time in the backyard here at the casita as well when our son and daughter-in-law lived here. All the while we've had her, she's spent her time outside in the elements. She's a bit worse for wear, I must admit, and showing her age, but she still has a lot of life in her, and we've discovered a way to make her even more useful in the years to come.

Tom got this beast of a thing mounted last night and sent a pic to our family's facebook group. This morning I sent another after I'd had the chance to give her a good scrubbing. Before long, the comments came pouring in. There were a number of really great suggestions for how we could use this outside addition, everything from a place to serve cold drinks, to a station where Tom could process deer. I was thinking of somewhere to do hand washing or to clean up after digging in the garden. One of my girls even suggested using it as a little swimming pool for a new duckling! That last one is tongue-in-cheek, but harkens back to a time when we DID indeed have a duck... and a verrrry jealous dog who wanted to be.

As I spent time this morning scrubbing away with the soap, Comet, and pumice stick trying my best to rid this beauty of its rust and stains, I couldn't help but think about how much this old sink and I have in common.

I too have lost some of the luster of my youth. Well... let's be honest, I've lost a LOT of the luster. The shiny, sparkly self of my 20s, 30s, and even 40s has aged and definitely dulled a bit. I'm showing signs of wear also... got a few scars and more than a few gray hairs and wrinkles, but you know what? Just like this old sink, I've still got a lot of useful left in me!!

Time has a way of mellowing the dazzle, bringing a richness and depth to the patina. All the little imperfections, the crazing, the small pitted indentions tell the story of a thing well used, a history written into its very surface, becoming an integral and inseparable part of its value.

I kind of feel the same way. I'm still the person I was in my 20s to some extent, but I am also a much more refined version of myself, tempered, shaped by the heat of battle, the rough edges worn off by every struggle, every storm. There is layer upon layer of my story now, and like that old sink, the patina of the present is much more beautiful than the fresher version of the past.

I am older, yes, but I am also -hopefully- wiser. I may not be as physically strong as I once was, but I pray I am stronger in my faith. I try to take care of myself, but I refuse to worship at the altar of youth, working feverishly to slow the hands of time. I am who I am. I am WHAT I am, a sixty year old grandmother trying her best to continue on the path God sets before me each and every day.

God reminded me of something very important this morning as I was laboring over that old sink. He has built us for the long haul. He has equipped us with superb craftsmanship and an iron strength. He has prepared us for the inevitable cracks and dings that will most certainly come our way as we fulfill our purpose and His, but of all I realized today, the most important thing is this: it's not over 'til it's over... and He calls the shots on that one.

As long as there is breath and life... there is purpose. That purpose morphs and changes as the years go by, but as long as we keep our hand firmly in His, He will show us how He can use us.

I'd like to share a quick story with you, if you'll allow.

My dad's mother, Granny Ruth, spent the last years of her life in a nursing home. As time passed, she got progressively worse. She suffered from dementia and was losing her sight and her hearing. She kept being relocated from one wing to another, each requiring more and more skilled care. At the end, about all she could do was lie in bed. She couldn't sit up, venture outside... feed herself. I remember visiting in those last days. She wasn't so aware of my presence, but she was very aware of another's.

My grandmother spent her last months on this earth communing with her Lord through prayer and through song. She would sing those old familiar Baptist hymns, the ones cemented in her mind and heart from childhood... and she prayed... all the time. From an outsider's point of view, one might have concluded that her life was mundane... useless... pointless. That could not have been farther from the truth. Even there. Even then. Her life was filled with purpose. She was a witness to her healthcare workers, to the staff, to those visiting... to us.

Though she was small and frail, her life had come full circle, back to her first love. The patina of her life was never more beautiful.

We can't erase the effects of time, and I'm not sure why we'd ever want to. A tarnished pitcher still holds as many beautiful flowers as a crystal vase. It just has a more interesting story.

So, little old sink, we trek on together, you and me... fulfilling an ever-changing purpose and sporting our age and imperfections for exactly what they are...

beauty marks.

"Youth is the gift of nature, but age is a work of art." - Stanislaw Jerzy Lec, writer