One season must always give way to another. It is the course of nature. We accept it, for it cannot be changed. And, similarly, so it is with mankind. Toddling childhood goes on to become swift-footed youth. Years pass, then mid-life reluctantly moves on to the mature years. Before too long–oft glancing back–one goes forward to the winter of life, for it is the time for that season.
Life is easier if one can accept the season, and, no doubt, many more would were it not for the present pop-culture insisting on eternal youth. Gray hair must be coloured. (And Hollywood long ago banished “grandma buns.”) Botox and paint must fill and cover winter’s lines. But, decree what they will, for winter to try to be spring would be both foolish and futile.
Why not just be natural? Let snowy white cover the head. Refrain from those vain visits to the stylist. Chemical rinses are damaging at any age, and seniors certainly do not need more strain on their already insufficient monthly pensions. Stay home with a soothing cup of tea. It is winter.
And please, grandma–tattoos and skinny jeans?! They are a disgrace on women of any age, but with the years we hope for wisdom, not folly. It is confusion to walk behind a woman decked in the wardrobe of spring, only to have her turn around, revealing her face with the hard lines of winter. Make-up cannot hide the season!
How refreshing to see a woman of years, attired comfortably for winter, knowing full well that spring is past. How content the heart who has long ago learned to disdain the vanity and fashions of this world. She is too noble, too honourable to bow to its dictates. She laughs with joy to be free.
“The hoary head is a crown of glory, if it be found in the way of righteousness.” Proverbs 16:31.