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| http://www.tnooz.com/2010/11/24/news/where-are-all-the-women-in-travel-technology/ |
Today I am linking with Sarah Bessey in honor of International Women's Day Synchro-blog. Go here to find out more.
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| http://citiesofmigration.ca/good_idea/mentoring-that-takes-the-other-out-of-the-picture/ |
When I think of biblical saints I think of my heroes
like Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of Jesus. I think of Deborah and Rahab and Ruth. I think of the widows who were persistent and
the one at the well. I think of those who
may have had a hand in writing the words we read today.
In the church I think of those women who have gone
before me. Those like the Philadelphia 11
and Florence Li Tim-Oi and Katharine Jefferts Schori. Yet I also think of those women who have
been faithful to the church whose names have never been recorded. Those who gave of their hearts and souls in
ways many did not see. Those who
polished the brass and silver, arranged the flowers, waxed the pews, and prayed
without ceasing for the church and its people.
Those who showed up and gave week after week in faithfulness to a place
that did not always value them. They are
spiritual midwives as well.
In my own life there have been teachers, mothers of
friends, childhood friends, and those occasional superstars like my first grade
teacher who taught me a love for books (that would become an escape from a
painful world when I needed it). While I
wish for more tangible memories there are the stories and the emotional
memories of the grandmothers who loved me and prayed for me daily. Those hints of hugs and smells and smiles
that have been lost with age yet their patina of recollection colors my soul
today.
There are those women who believe in God sized
dreams and write from the heart about being a woman, a mom, a sister, a child
of God who stumbles and still triumphs. I
won’t name names because many you know, but most you don’t.
They are those women like the young mother
who is reaching out to other single moms or the one who touches others
struggling with PPD.
The ones who create
art in words or paint or fabric to tell the story of telling the truth and
encourage me to do the same.
They are the sisters God has sent into my life.
The one who believed in my call to ordained
ministry and walked with me for coming on twenty years even when I was running
from God.
The one I met on a holy
mountain who taught me to trust women for the first time ever and who teaches
me daily about laughing in Wal-Mart and breathing when I can do nothing
else.
The one who helped me untangle the
knots who I still run into from time to time and even now gives those life giving hugs
that help put me back together.
The one I met
in a little southern town who prays for me when I have no words.
The one from high school who is finding joy
in the pain of living into her new life.
The one I have never met in person who I trust with the hot mess me
because God shows me daily she is safe.
The
daughter who battles against the odds for the beautiful grace filled gift I call
da baby.
And da baby who surprises us
every day as she reaches another mark and jumps another hurdle.
Tears flow as these words fly…oh how lucky I am!
Why do I forget these women who show me how
to live, love, laugh, and breathe?
These
women I meet in the Bible, the church, and always in Wal-Mart.
How can I feel alone when some have walked
before me and many walk with me even now?
Thank you God for the gift of Spiritual Midwives. Women who use the ordinary to make the world extraordinary.
