On the syllables of root words inherited from the fall./ In the history books you rewrote with your existence./ Story begins where we dare
I’m used to being let down. I’m used to looking at myself through the lens of other women, instead of resting in the promise that I am fearfully and wonderfully made. When I look at another woman, I must know and feel, that she too is fearfully and wonderfully made.
Hope looks like an unexpected welcome.
We must learn to discern what belongs in our hands and what does not. Are we willing to blindly grab hold of what could potentially destroy us only because we were never told the consequences? God’s sacred mark is upon the earth and pulsates within each human life. Of all the beauty we hold dear, I pray we hold more than glitter and fame. I pray we hold more than an image of fancy fun.