The Quiet Grace: Why I'm Finally Truly Hearing the Wisdom of Older Women of Faith

There's a shift that happens, isn't there? One minute you're buzzing through life, juggling work and kids' schedules, feeling like you've got a handle on things (mostly). The next, your nest is clearing out, the house feels a little quieter, and suddenly, you find yourself with more space in your mind than you've had in decades. For me, that space has been filling with echoes – whispers, really – of conversations, observations, and quiet lessons from the older women of faith who have waltzed through my life.

When I was younger, I listened, of course. Out of respect, sometimes out of obligation. But did I hear them? Not really, not in the way I do now. Now, as we slide into November, and my thoughts drift towards Thanksgiving tables and the comforting rhythm of family gatherings, I realize these women weren't just sharing stories; they were offering blueprints for a life well-lived, grounded in something so much bigger than ourselves.

Lessons in Steadfastness and Grace

I think of Mrs. Eleanor from my childhood church. She'd been a widow for years, yet her hands were always busy, her smile always genuine. I remember one crisp autumn afternoon, helping her rake leaves – a task that felt enormous to my young self. She paused, looked at the bare branches against the brilliant blue sky, and simply said, "Seasons change, dear. Some bring blossoms, some bring a quiet rest. God is in all of them." Back then, it was just a pretty thought. Now, facing my own seasons of change, of letting go of the busy parenting years, her words are a balm. It’s about trust, isn’t it? Trusting that even in the quiet or the stripping away, there's a divine purpose and a gentle hand holding it all.

Then there’s Aunt Carol, my husband’s great-aunt. A woman who raised five children, saw countless heartaches, yet never lost her joy. Her faith wasn't loud; it was woven into every casserole she brought to a new mother, every handwritten note she sent, every prayer she offered without fanfare. She taught me about practical faith – the kind that shows up, rolls up its sleeves, and loves fiercely. She used to say, "The best sermon you'll ever preach is how you treat the person next to you." And you know, she was absolutely right. Especially now, as I reflect on how important it is to be present and grateful for the people around us during this time of year.

Why the Volume is Turned Up Now

So, why the sudden clarity? Why am I leaning into these memories, these quiet wisdoms, with such intensity now? Part of it, honestly, is the empty nest. The constant hum of demands has quieted, leaving space for reflection. There's a new kind of looking back – not with regret, but with a deeper understanding of the path I've walked and a hopeful gaze toward the paths ahead.

Another part is simply maturity, I suppose. There's a realization that some answers aren't in books or podcasts, but in the lived experience of those who have walked the path before us. Their stories aren't just tales; they're roadmaps that show how faith can carry you through the messy middle, the joyous highs, and the crushing lows. They show that resilience isn't just about bouncing back; it's about holding onto hope, even when the grip feels weak.

And let's be honest, there's a growing awareness of time. These precious women won't be with us forever. Their stories, their gentle nudges, their unwavering faith – these are legacies. And I want to soak up every last drop, not just for myself, but so that I, too, can carry forward that flame for those who come after me, perhaps my own children when their nests eventually empty.

Embracing the Season of Listening

This November, as we gather and give thanks, I'm feeling a profound gratitude for these women. For their patience, their quiet strength, and for showing me that faith isn't just a Sunday morning activity but the very thread that holds a life together. I'm choosing to listen more intently, to honor their journeys by learning from them, and to carry their lessons in my own heart as I navigate this new, reflective season of life.

It's a beautiful thing, this passing along of wisdom. It's like a warm quilt, stitched together over generations, offering comfort and truth.

What about you? Has an older woman of faith (or anyone, for that matter) unexpectedly shared a piece of wisdom that resonates with you more deeply now than it did before? I'd love to hear your experiences.

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Have a cup of coffee & a quiet moment...

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