Age is Artificial.

"Age is an artificial line" she said as we sat gathered, twelve to the table, gourmet chicken salads overflowing our plates and crispy grain bread slathered with brie on the side. Crystal Light swirled pink in our glasses, our laughter and hearts the same. We were women united, women of faith. Beyond time and experience and age.

I once found myself having a conversation with my mom about this. About how I tend to unite more with women a generation older with me, than those my own age. She said, "That doesn't surprise me?" For, what is age?

What is age when your passions are the same? When your heart knows the same language? When your ministries align? What is age when you are tough, and tender and listening and endearing? What is age when you are learning and grieving and growing and knowing? What is age in the embrace of hugs or tears or hands or grace?

Age is an artificial line. I am thankful for women whose love bypass age.