The Women That Let Their Roots Show

She grabs a bottle of Nice-n-Easy on her way to the check out line. She is always forgetting to cover up her roots and wonders why, in the autumn of life, she even bothers. She sweeps the dirt piles under the rug and tidies up just minutes before her house is full of young women with Bibles tucked into diaper bags and little ones tucked under arms.

Strength is her beauty now, but she hasn't always laughed at the time to come.

Sometimes she doesn't laugh at it now and she shakes her head to the rhythm of God's heartbeat for every woman filling her mosaic-of-a-life lived in home.

She is as real as they come and even with a house busting at the seams with chattering women she wonders in fear and awe what she possibly has to give any of them. 

Her kids aren't perfect. Her marriage has had it's holes and found it's wholeness only in recent years and only in Christ alone. Some days she wonders if she got any of it right and other days she is certain that she didn't.

But Jesus...

She has a secret. She has a secret and she is just dying to share it with her younger sisters, her daughters in the faith. Her secret isn't the best beauty creme to ward off crow's feet. Her secret won't give more bounce to your locks or unlock the key to keeping a spotless house.

Her secret is grace.

Grace experienced. Grace given freely. Grace drank in deep and infused into every area of her life.

The women that lug heavy car seats and even heavier hearts into her home each week can rest deep knowing that they are welcome. They are welcome to bring it all in, the tired, the hurt, the sweetest mama joys, the frustration, their faith with all it's holes and hearts with the broken edges and all of their I-just-can't-do-it-alls.

I've been privy to a circle of women like this one. I've been blessed by older women who let their roots show and who grew mine a bit deeper at the same time. The older women that have gathered me close never felt like they had much to give, but they gave the little that they thought they had and just like the loaves and fishes there was far more than enough.

They had more than they knew. Diamonds, rubies, jewels of the faith only tarnished a bit, but glowing when presented simply, humbly with open hands. You don't have to be Mom of the Year or Woman of the Year to open your heart {and maybe even your home?} to younger women.

Worldly accolades don't qualify us to love one another and your own insecurity doesn't amount to a hill of beans when Christ is at the helm. Christ did that. He spilled grace far and wide, once and for all and now we can do it from here until eternity for one another.

I've been blessed by some amazing older women who have held the hand of this motherless daughter and who have been bold enough to share their own brokenly beautiful journey with me. I hope more older women will be inspired to do the same.

My friend Linda Thomas author of Grandma's Letters from Africa is a precious mother in the faith and she is going to be coming by the blog on Friday to offer her story to all of us, but especially to the ladies who are a part of the (in)courage (in)motherhood community group.

I really can't wait to share Linda's words with ya'll. They are the most beautiful kind of grace.

Are you longing to invest in younger women, but aren't sure what you have to give? Do you wish you had an older woman walking the long days by your side? Leave a comment and let's talk about how we can invite each other to open our hearts and share grace at each stage of life.