Dearest gentle reader,
So the question still lingers—does life truly begin at forty? I once saw a clip of Cher being asked how she felt about getting older. Without hesitation, she replied, “It sucks.” I remember pausing at that. Does it? And if so… why? Is it simply because youth begins to slip quietly through our fingers? There’s a verse that often comes to mind: “Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised.” I’ve always known age would find me one day. It was never a matter of if—only when. But I never imagined it as something dreadful. In truth, I looked forward to it. Growing up, my family would laugh and say, “She acts like an old lady.” I never took offense. If anything, I wore it like a compliment. There was something about older women that always captivated me.
Have you ever truly observed the quiet splendor of an older woman?
There is something altogether captivating about her. She walks with deliberation, unhurried and assured. She moves with a certain grace that does not demand attention, yet commands it nonetheless. Her speech is measured, adorned with wisdom refined by experience. There is an eloquence about her—born not of vanity, but of having lived, endured, and prevailed.
She appears well kept, content, and settled within herself. One cannot help but wish to draw nearer, to sit in her presence, to hear her story. Her words seem to carry weight—substance gathered through seasons both bright and bitter. you find yourself wanting to sit a little closer, to hear more. To understand how she became so steady. Give me a cup of coffee, and I am all ears. Perhaps life doesn’t begin at forty. Perhaps it simply deepens. Let's just say to be continued...
P.S. YOUR CROWN IS WAITING...
- FIRST LADY
