In her youth, Iris was impetuous, idealistic, supremely confident, ready to burst out of her sheltered existence and make her presence felt in this world.
Like an iris bud pushing its way out of its protective cocoon, there was a great deal going on inside.
….Years passed….
As a middle-aged woman, Lady Iris had important roles in her community and was well loved. Her beauty was unrivalled but she was increasingly aware of her limits. She was productive in a measured and steady fashion.
Like her namesake, she was comfortable in her identity, idiosyncrasies not withstanding.
….Years passed….
In her latter years, Grandma Iris exuded wisdom gained from experience and accentuated by distance from the action. Productivity was no longer the point.
Like a wrinkled iris, her charm had past, though a wistful beauty gently emanated from the flower’s lines, swirls and fading colours.
Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting;
but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.
Honour her for all that her hands have done,
and let her works bring her praise at the city gate.
Proverbs 31: 30 -31 (NIV)