Something has happened to me . . . and somewhat out of the blue. Or maybe it’s simply a by-product of moving into my 40s. I find myself studying people in a whole new way, as though I am a student of a master artist in awe of His work. I’m not critiquing what I see in others. Rather I’m noticing every detail, from the fine lines and wrinkles to baby smooth skin and squishy dimples. I notice every shade of every strand of hair. Every nuance of every eye color. Every shape of every eyebrow.
It’s as though God has given me a new set of glasses to see His work, and this is what I’m discovering: The transformation of our physical bodies reflects a gift from God that ought to be celebrated. It means we’ve been given one more day. It means we survived something we thought we’d never have to live through. It means we’ve learned a lesson or two worth passing on.
Aging is a gift, because it’s evidence of a life unwrapped. Those fine lines tell stories of loves and losses. Celebrations and disappointments. Accomplishments and failures. Fears faced and brave steps taken.
Maybe that’s why God impresses upon the older women to train the younger. They have something worth talking about. They have something worth teaching. And yet, who is the older woman? There’s no magic number indicated in the Scriptures. Maybe the older woman is the one with one fine line more than the next. Maybe she has just enough wisdom to pass onto the generation?