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Today is my birthday!

Nov 30, 2020 | My sort-of Sermons, Sacred Stories, Women's Wisdom

I am 60 years old today. How is that even possible?

The days leading up to this one have been filled with reflection, to be sure. I suppose that is always the case, but this year – given that 2020 has been, well, 2020 and that I left my corporate position and that both of my daughters have moved far away from the city we’ve called home for 25+ years now and that I’m turning 60 (!!) – it feels like a lot.

Still, there is a lot to be grateful for: health, family, friends, airplanes (made far more accessible, hopefully, in the months to come). And this year, in even more significant ways than ever before, I am grateful for the ancient stories of women that have endlessly companioned me along the way.

I drew a card for myself this morning. Though I’ve done this literally thousands of times – for others and myself – I never cease to be amazed by who appears and what She has to say. As I shuffled the deck, I asked “What is uniquely mine to know on this, my 60th birthday?”

Ready for this?

Mary Magdalene:

  • Honor and distinction are yours.
  • You belong in the inner circle.
  • Oh, the wisdom you have to impart.

I could tell you of her story – how it’s been told, how it’s been misunderstood, how she’s been silenced and shamed, and still, how she rises up anyway, always, and speaks. I could tell you of the many ways in which her story mirrors my own. And I could certainly tell you much of how powerfully these three themes speak to my heart. Maybe I will do all of this and then some in a later post…

But right now?

Oh, how this touches me. (Had I done this on video, you would have seen my tears.) Oh, how I needed these words – her words. And oh, how relevant and timely and compelling and challenging and honoring! Especially since this is exactly why I’m writing this post in the first place today…

Honestly. I started this post because it is my birthday. Because on my birthday I offer New Year Readings to you at a wildly discounted rate. Because I haven’t done this the past 2 years. Because 2020 has been, well, 2020. Because I am offering them again this year (at a wildly discounted rate).

Honestly. I hadn’t intended to draw a card today, right in the middle of this writing. I certainly couldn’t have anticipated who showed up on my behalf. And I shouldn’t be remotely surprised.

Honestly. This is always what happens!

And this is perfect, actually! You can see who has shown up for me and I can invite you to find out who longs to show up for you. Truly. There are 51 more stories I work with besides Mary Magdalene’s – each of them powerful in their own right, each of them offering exactly what you need to hear and trust in 2021. Because, let’s be honest:

You deserve a year that does not disappoint.

Your 2021 Reading and the woman within will provide you every bit of the advocacy, wisdom, and grace you desire and deserve.

How can I be so certain? Well, the list of reasons is endless. But for now, let’s go with what just happened – for me (which is exactly what will happen for you)!

Today, my birthday, right now – I am clear and certain that honor and distinction are mine because I have the privilege of doing this work in the first place, being blessed by the presence and power of these women, and offering every bit of that to you. I am standing in an “inner circle,” embraced by 52 amazing women and their stories. And I am imparting wisdom – learned over 60 years to be sure; but endlessly supported by that of the ancient, sacred women who long to support you. Perfect!

Oh, how I’d love for you to receive all of this for yourself – as gift from me; the gift of your 2021 Reading. 

And the “wildly discounted” part?

Starting today, in honor of my 60th birthday, I am offering the first 60 Readings sold at 50% off.

  *****

I still find it impossible to believe that I am 60 today. But it’s not impossible for me to believe that I get to be here, right now, writing this post on this day and miraculously, graciously, still offering my deepest heart to you: these women, their stories, their knowing – and all on your behalf.

I hope you’ll take advantage of the 50% off. More, I hope you’ll receive the 2021 Reading that is yours – already waiting for you and filled with the perfect-perfect-perfect words your heart longs to hear, your year longs to make manifest, and your deepest, truest self longs to live into. 

Learn more.

She was a voice

Nov 16, 2020 | Hope & Encouragement, My sort-of Sermons, Women's Voice & Power, Women's Wisdom, Writing

I ordered and read The Book of Longings last week. Written by Sue Monk Kidd, author of The Secret Life of Bees and The Dance of the Dissident Daughter (required reading for any woman who grew up in the church), it is the imagined story of Ana – wife of Jesus.

I won’t give the plot away, nor is that what this post is about; rather, the prayer Ana recites, cherishes, and lives into:

…Bless the largeness inside me, no matter how I fear it. Bless my reed pens and my inks. Bless the words I write. May they be beautiful in your sight. May they be visible to eyes not yet born. When I am dust, sing these words over my bones: she was a voice.

She was a voice.

She was a voice.

This nearly takes my breath away. 

But not before I inhale deeply – and then exhale an inexhaustible stream of words and emotions about how profoundly I long for this to be true. For me, to be sure. For my daughters. For my friends. For you. For countless women of the past who were not given voice (and about whom I write).

For too many women, yet today, who are still silenced – because of patriarchy, political realities, racism, bigotry, abusive marriages, fear, oppressive corporate structures, a predominant culture that blatantly prefers us quiet and compliant. The list goes on. 

Still, she was a voice.

More powerful than all that holds us down and back, within and without, is exactly that for which Ana prays:

sing these words over my bones: she was a voice.

A woman’s voice heralds wisdom.

A woman’s voice offers truth.

A woman’s voice brings justice.

A woman’s voice articulates desire.

A woman’s voice invites hope.

 

And without a woman’s voice? Well, that explains everything, yes? The lack of wisdom, truth, justice, desire, and hope. The list goes on.

If we want a world defined by wisdom, truth, justice, desire, and hope, then we must be a voice.

 

We are the ones who speak into being the life and reality we long for. This is the largeness within us…

No matter how we fear it.

Be the voice. The voice that you alone can express and embody. The voice that whispers and shouts within. The voice all of us long to hear – and already know dwells within you. Beautiful. Powerful. True.

She was a voice. May it be so.

My voice comes forth, at least in part, by reimagining and recreating the voices of other women – some you’ve heard of, many you have not. I do this through Readings – the personalized and powerful voice of one woman who speaks into your story in bold and winsome ways – who is already choosing you. 

I’m days away from making 2021 New Year Readings available (with an amazing discount!) All the wisdom, truth, justice, desire, and hope you desire and deserve as you (finally) put 2020 behind you and step boldly, courageously, and beautifully into all that is ahead – including your voice! SIGN UP to be the first to hear.

[Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash]  

The power of women’s stories…and yours!

Oct 26, 2020 | My sort-of Sermons, Sacred Stories, Sovereignty, Spirituality, Women's Wisdom

There’s an old, old story told that begins with a narcissistic, paranoid, and power-hungry man (which sounds vaguely familiar); an Egyptian Pharaoh who was worried about the slave population growing too fast. So he issued a decree that all newborn sons were to be put to death (as though it were up to him: the choices women made). And who was to carry out this ridiculous and violent rule? Yes, women. He mandated that the midwives in his employ would make sure the deaths happened – the very women whose sole purpose was to make sure life happened.   

Two of those midwives decided that their principles, their ethics, their choices mattered more than his, so they ignored his mandate – not willing to participate in genocide. They continued their work. They stood alongside women, reminded them to breathe, wiped the sweat from their brows, talked them through their pain, and placed their children – no matter the gender – into their waiting arms. 

At one point, the two of them were brought before the Pharaoh – now even more red-faced and angry than before (which also sounds vaguely familiar). “How is it that the slave population continues to grow? Did I not say that all the boys were to be killed?” Without missing a beat, the two of them explained that the Hebrew women were not like Egyptian women. “They are too quick! They give birth before we even get to their home!” 

The story ends by saying that “…the people multiplied and increased greatly.”

If I were preaching a sermon (which, admittedly, I sort of am), here’s my first point:

Women’s advocacy, friendship, and support for one another changes everything. Everything!

I suppose it’s possible, even probable, that one midwife could have stepped out of line on her own and saved a generation of humans. But the fact that she didn’t have to, that she wasn’t alone, is what makes this story so powerful. Together, the two of them let the baby boys live…which caused the Israelite nation to keep growing…which created the conditions for an entire nation’s escape from slavery to liberation. These two women did this! Their advocacy for one another. Their friendship. Their support. In the face their courage and integrity, the Pharaoh didn’t stand a chance. Not really. Not ultimately. These two women (who are rarely, if ever heard of) changed everything. 

We have the same capacity, you know. We are advocated for, befriended, and supported by the women we know and love. Even more, we are accompanied by the generations of women upon whose shoulders we stand – including the two midwives.

We are not alone! Ever.

And with this much beauty, power, and wisdom in our corner, what can’t we change? 

One more point (I’m making myself stop at only two): 

The stories of women (even when unknown, unheard, uncelebrated) are what enable the possibility of so many more yet to come. 

At about the same time of this story, another one was taking place. A baby boy was born. His mother, understandably afraid that he would be killed, put him in a basket made of reeds and let him float down the river – hoping that he would be rescued and given safety. Her hope was fulfilled when the Pharaoh’s daughter, bathing in the river, happened to see the basket and rescued the baby. Though that boy grew up in affluence and privilege, he could not ignore the ongoing mistreatment and oppression of the Hebrew people. He left his position and power behind – leading their rebellion and escape. His name was Moses. Maybe you’ve heard of him? The parting of the Red Sea. The 10 Commandments. And a few other juicy tales…

Could the midwives have possibly known how their courage would instill hope in others? Could they have possibly imagined that their actions would lead to one mother’s willingness to do whatever was required on behalf of her son’s life? Could they have known that this mother’s choice compelled compassion in yet another woman – the Pharaoh’s daughter – who took in that baby in as her own? Could they have known that their story would birth, nurture, and enable not only the story of Moses, but that of the Hebrew people’s deliverance? 

Of course not, but that’s the point. The stories of women, the ones we know and perhaps even more, the ones we don’t, are what enable the stories that are yet to be told. 

Guess what?! This includes your story. You are this powerful, this influential, this amazing. Just like the midwives. Just like Moses’ mother. Just like the Pharaoh’s daughter. Just like story after story after story of women since… Just like you. 

When we know these stories – the strength, courage, and beauty from which we descend – we begin to recognize just how powerful we are, the ways in which we shape the future of all that is yet to come, the way in which we have the capacity to change everything. 

Imagine all that you are yet to do – companioned by such a legacy of women; living your own story in ways that will champion so many more yet to come. How amazing are you? (I already know the answer.)

May it be so.

 

Retrieving the Fragments

Feb 4, 2019 | Sovereignty, Women's Voice & Power, Women's Wisdom

Although women’s words have been censored or eliminated from much of [our] heritage, in the midst of the pain of dehumanization women have nevertheless always been there, in fidelity and struggle, in loving and caring, in outlawed  movements, in prophecy and vision. Tracking and retrieving fragments of this lost wisdom and history, all in some way touchstones of what may yet be possible, enable them to be set free as resources for transforming thought and action. ~ Elizabeth A. Johnson, She Who Is

This is probably NOT the stuff that keeps you up at night. But what if it did? What if this was the conversation we were all-and-always having – women together, women with men, even men together? What if we were consumed with the painful history of women? What if we were determined to “track and retrieve fragments of lost wisdom and history?” What if we believed that this was crucial to “transforming thought and action?” What if, indeed.

How do we take the time to talk of old stories? How do we find the threads of our own history as women? How do we somehow weave them back into our day-to-day lives?

I wish I knew.

Here’s what I do know:

If we don’t, if we forget from whence and whom we came, we are destined to repeat the same patterns.

The plight of women does not improve. The conversation does not change. The world does not transform.

To shine a spotlight on the censorship and dehumanization of women is the very thing that helps us – now, in this moment, in our day-to-day lives – understand why we think the way we do, why we often feel slightly crazy, why we struggle with ways to articulate our position or stance, why we are disconnected from our bodies, why we witness people in power deny the harm they inflict and attempt to silence the brave women (and men) who name such anyway.

It’s hard: the work of remembering.

We want to move on, to move forward, to make headway, to not look back.

I get it. I’m not all that crazy about having to remember my own story. It’s hard to look back and honestly acknowledge the places in which I’ve known harm and perpetuated it against my very self (and others). But it is only when I do so, that I experience any transformation and growth; it is only when I do so, that I can have the perspective and wisdom needed to make different choices today – not only for myself, though that is paramount, but also for my daughters, my family, my friends, my colleagues, my community.

If this is true for me, for each of us individuals, how much more so the collective – all of us together?

Mmmmm. Yes, this. All of us and always – remembering, telling, naming, honoring, acknowledging, truth-telling, “tracking and retrieving fragments” so that we can discover the “touchstones of what may yet be possible.”

May it be so.

The you you know best

Jan 28, 2019 | Hope & Encouragement, Sovereignty, Women's Voice & Power, Women's Wisdom

Who would you be if you didn’t hold back?

If all your power, compassion, love, and strength roared into any room, any conversation, any relationship? If you glided through earth and sky and sea, nothing able to hold you down, hold you under, hold you captive? If you rode upon the back of a lion, blazing across the surface of the sun? If you danced in the light of the fire with abandon; no hint of restraint? If you spoke at a nearly guttural level, bringing words, ideas, and emotions to the surface that surprised even you? If you conjured up the most powerful and potent wisdom then dispersed it into the darkest of spaces, the hardest of hearts, the saddest of souls, the hopeless, the helpless?

You would be you.

The woman who is set-loose, impossible to contain, and a carrier of the Divine. The woman you see in your dreams and get glimpses of when you’re angry, ecstatic, passionate, heartbroken. The woman who knows what to do and what to say. The woman who would eradicate all injustice with a single flick of her wrist. The woman who would heal all hurts in one huge embrace. The woman who would sing her kin into strength like a Pied Piper-ess.

The woman who, with one inhale, would gather the galaxy into her very soul and with one exhale, restore our wounded planet to wholeness once again. The woman who dances and dances and dances the world into joy and fullness and passion and truth.

Within you dwell all the women who have gone before – your direct lineage, to be sure, and that of every woman whose story was ever told and especially those that weren’t. Within you sing the voices of thousands who have lain silent for generations but who are, even now, gathering their strength, their force, their shared wisdom to cry out, to proclaim, to weep, to laugh, to transform. Within you flows royal, sacred blood that is yours to own, yours to take nourishment from, yours to transfuse into all and everything you love. You know that this is true; that this is you.

You’ve been feeling it more and more. And truth-be-told, it scares you a bit (though not all that much). This you is powerful.

Ahhh yes, you know her!

May it be so.

Redefining Ordinary

Jan 14, 2019 | Hope & Encouragement, Sacred Stories, Women's Wisdom

The desire, temptation, and lure to live an extraordinary life is strong; to figure out our “one thing;” to do, create, be, achieve, rise up, astonish, accomplish, shine.

It’s exhausting, really.

And it’s a relatively new phenomenon. Far before pressing existential (and advertising-inducing) questions like “what is my life’s purpose,” everyday choices were shaped by survival and perseverance, seasons and hours, shelter and sustenance, tribe and family.

Ordinary life took precedence. And somehow, in the midst of such, extraordinary lives were lived.

A few examples from my lineage of stories:

  • Hagar: a slave who was forced to bear the child of her master and then banished to the desert with her young son, Ishmael – the eventual patriarch of Islam.
  • Ruth: a too-young widow who took care of a bitter mother-in-law. Hungry, she stole gathered wheat left behind by the harvesters. Eventually found out by the wealthy owner of that land, he married her. Their great-grandson was King David.
  • Mary: an engaged girl trying to make sense of an unexpected pregnancy became the mother of Jesus.

Their stories (and so many more) are of ordinary life lived. Like us, they were wives and mothers, daughters and cousins, sisters and friends. They knew desire and choice, tears and trauma. They birthed and nurtured, fed and cleaned. They spoke and sang, laughed and loved. They were fertile and barren, healthy and ill, strong and less-than, brave and afraid, named and unnamed. They lived ordinary lives that changed the entire world.

What if we redefined “ordinary”?

Parenting. Paying bills. Grocery shopping. Brewing coffee. Fixing meals. Cleaning. Driving. Writing. Working. Having conversations. Drinking wine. Sleeping. Waking. Laughing. Grieving. Being alone. Being together. Living life.

Maybe it’s only me, but I still feel the incessant and insipid pressure to do more, be more, achieve more, accomplish more.

Those internal and external messages have the wily ability to take front-and-center stage in my mind and heart. And when that happens, all the day-to-day aspects of my life get shoved into the shadows; the ordinary becomes drudgery in the illusive pursuit of the extraordinary.

BUT THAT’S NOT HOW IT (actually) WORKS!

It is in living an ordinary life that we are profoundly extraordinary. Not because we are trying. Not because we are striving. But because we are surviving and persevering, even thriving – day-in, day-out. Good and bad. Easy and hard. Joyful and excruciating. Wins and losses. Gifts and hassles. People and places. Normal, everyday stuff.

Our choice to be ordinary, to simply be awake and present to what is happening around us, is what enables an extraordinary life.

Nothing more. And certainly nothing less.

If, in the mix of all that we write a book, or stand on a stage, or build a successful business, or raise an amazing family, or keep a marriage together, or leave one entirely, or (you fill in the blank), it will only be because we have – in obvious and ordinary ways – taken the next step, done the next thing, walked through the next door, lived through the next day. NOT because we have pushed and prodded and persuaded ourselves to be more amazing and incredible than we already are.

Follow the lead of Hagar and Ruth and Mary. They did not spend one moment trying to figure out how to be amazing and larger-than-life and phenomenal and extraordinary. They lived ordinary lives – focused on what mattered most, on the things about which they could not remain silent, on the work they could not not do.

Believe that you are enough…and not too much. And then live your ordinary life. That is extraordinary.

So are you.

May it be so.