black & white eyes

I was looking at a photo tonight of J.R.R. Tolkien. You know, the famous one of him in the garden, wearing his smoking jacket and holding his pipe loosely in hand while he laughs gently. As I studied the photo, it got me thinking about when I am old. What will I look like? I'm not so concerned about whether or not I'll still have my beard, or if I'll be bald or my eyebrows turn to whispey little feathers. More so, I wonder what children will see when they look into my eyes. Peace? Wisdom? Anger? Weariness? Adventure? Certainty? When I see the faces of Tolkien and C.S. Lewis, in particular, I don't see untouchable authors or unbelievable scholars. They were worthy giants of their time, and still, but I see in their black & white eyes men who enjoyed a good cheese and walks through the countryside. Their countenances tell me that life has it's hills and valleys, but God is constant and good. I take comfort and find strength, not only in the scribbles of these great men, but also in their gaze. And I don't know what lies ahead of me on this voyage of life, but I pray that I fare in a way that ends me up with those same eyes.