The Truth About Brows

While dressing this morning my mind revisited that scene of many years ago when I first wondered why my eyebrows seemed near lacking. The answer I remember most was, “Perhaps God forgot them when He made you.” What? At the time it seemed a reasonable answer to my young mind, but as I have matured I have grown to know that God does not make mistakes. Still, my eyebrows have remained wanton, and I have learned to live with them. What’s a girl to do? I do remember a gal who plucked out all her frustrating brows, much to her eventual dismay. They did not grow back. At least I have something to work with.

This must have been a deep seated issue for me. “Fingers, toes, and ‘Thank You, LORD,’ she has eyebrows!” were immediate thoughts when cradling our newborn daughter. It seems silly now that such a thought would even cross a mother’s mind. Yet, when I see our daughter’s beautiful face I remain thankful for those lovely wing-like brows above her eyes. And they are still lovely to this day, thankfully surviving her eyebrow piercing days.

One day when readying to go out with my husband, I was hurriedly finishing my makeup, brows near the last step in applying my “war paint,” as our son-in-law affectionately calls it. My dear husband was more poignantly blunt: “You’re just drawing lines on your face!” Good grief! I thought I was practicing some artistic feat, trying to get the most natural, un-“lined” look possible. I guess it is all in the eyes of the beholder. I do wonder if my artistic endeavors have ever worked, or not.

More recently I was sharing time with three of our seven dear grands, snuggled all together in a heap on the couch reading stories. I have become a science project to them in some ways: visible veins on my arms and hands a grand curiosity, my “ginormous” legs a wonder, glasses fascinating, and loss of skin tone hilarious. How I have maintained any sense of dignity is mind boggling! The coup de gras came that day (I had used the darker brow pencil – the one that matches the “Granite” colored brow gel, swept over those invisible hairs so I can see where to draw those lines) with the innocent question, “Nana, why do you have black marker lines in your eyebrows?” Argh! I’d been found out! What could I do but tell the truth? Explanation given, in as matter of fact demeanor as possible, the children seemed to accept my strange reasoning, while I mentally resolved to use the other, softer colored brow pencil from then on. And I have.

Many times I have laughingly said, “You cannot get away with anything in this world!” I have found this to be true in my life, especially when such questions pop out of the mouth of babes! Though the truth might be embarrassing, or occasionally even hurtful, one might as well face into it bravely. Thank the Good LORD for laughter or we would all be sunk! Especially those of us with half full . . . or half empty . . . brows!