I worked with elderly people for many years doing art therapy; I still love it when people grow better, and more beautifully themselves, and not bitter as they age! They become living portents of the possible! Signs of the cadences of seasons, and that a life lived well is still possible.

I watched more than a few die. How they died symbolized how they lived. The end essentialized the whole story. They had crystallized the symbols they carried. That’s the best death, because it leaves true art behind.

Some of the people who blessed me the most were in the last chapters of their lives! And were able to speak a clarified truth from experience, a sheered wise poetry into my bones and heart, which made me hear the call to life.

What they sowed in youth, grew into beauty, and even clarified and rarefied Wisdom. The laws of sowing and reaping with a huge touch of Grace, go a along way!

Some of my greatest heroes are those who aged the best like fine wine!

How we live the later seasons of our lives, teaches everyone the point of all the previous ones. And offers hope. Thankful for those who keep growing and being themselves in each season of life!

I love all generations, each has it’s unique part of the poem to carry (I see them less in terms of age, as “generations of God’s purposes”, and many of us get to live out several!), but there is something powerful about watching someone grow old well! Old oaks are the best! Thinking about this week, as an older friend passed.