Stories
March 30, 2020
Earlier this week I sat on the phone with one of my sacred sisters and listened to her weep. The kind of exhaustive cry that comes, not from the depth of despair, but from the weight of carrying her cross for so long.
There was a time in my younger, prideful, arrogant years where my rapid response would be to give her an anecdote to divert her attention away from the pain. Perhaps a “wise word” (at 30 -hahahaha!) or worse yet some kind of puke inducing, “cross heavy” workout to produce said strength to carry said cross.
My heart aches for that younger woman who didn’t understand the importance of shared space. Who didn’t see the value in simply sitting with her sister and saying nothing. Just consuming space together. No anecdote. No words of wisdom. No Cross(fit) workout.
“Darkness thought it had her; but it did not know her God. It did not know the story God was giving her to tell.” Morgan Harper Nichols
And oh what a story teller He is. Weaving our stories together like bits of fabric in a messed up mosaic that only makes sense to Him.
Nine years.
Nine years ago, Liz and I dreamed of a space where young women could sit and find the courage to tell their story. Where older, wiser women would affirm their worth by sharing bits of brokenness of their own past chapters.
A space that would confront the uncomfortable, talk about the “taboo” and shine light into the darkest parts of our hearts.
A place that would offer hope, grace, mercy and an invitation to rewrite the script of society.
A place to release the silly little girl who would slide in her socks, have random dance parties and believed she was beautiful.
Welcome.
Welcome to our space. You are all welcome here.
This space is universal. But just like church...it isn’t a place. It’s us. The women who are brave enough to come together. We are the space. We are the ones called to speak truth over one another. Of a God who calls us by name. Who can redeem the darkest parts of our story. Or simply sit silently and weep with the woman courageous enough to cry.
When we offer this sacred safe space to one another it becomes a human expression of God’s greater love for us, this side of heaven. You will know when you’ve entered into this territory of tranquility. A place where the lies of the enemy are eradicated by the strength of silence. Where we are reminded - I am not strange, emotional, sensitive, flawed, over-analyzing, too this or too that.. I just am loved.
“Remember who you are and whose you are. God has freely given you your identity. And when He gives us a gift NOBODY can take it from us.” Sr. Miriam James
