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The power of women’s stories…and yours!

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.

 

The you you know best

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.

4 Takeaways that Matter

I spend countless hours in the midst of the ancient, sacred stories of women – wanting and wondering how to tell them, believing they matter, oft’ overwhelmed, admittedly, by the sneaky voice that tells me my readers won’t “get” their significance, their beauty, their relevance, their wisdom.

Regardless of the voice, my heart cannot let that happen. And so I press on.

We need these stories. We need these women. Why? Because we need muses, mentors, companions, even, midwives who call us forth and birth us into the lives that are ours to claim, to live, to love.

This is what these stories do. This is what these women do – over and over and over again.

The more value and worth we give to any woman’s story, the more value and worth we give to our own. And that, it seems to me, is worth any effort, any risk, decrying any voices within or without. (For me AND for you.)

So, all that said, here’s one of those stories (along with 4 takeaways that matter):

*****

Once upon a time there were two midwives who worked for a king. In an attempt to control the population of his slaves (who he feared would one day become his enemies), he told the midwives to kill every boy-child they birthed. They didn’t like this idea and so, chose to do nothing of the kind. Not soon after, the king called them on the carpet, demanding to know why they had not obeyed him. They said, “The Hebrew women are much too strong and fast! They have the child before we can even get there!” The ancient text tells us they did this because they respected and honored the Hebrew God (of whom they would have known little-to-nothing) more than they feared the king. And because of this, that same God blessed them with children of their own.

I can see a gazillion take-away’s from this story, but here are just four…for now:

  1. Do what you can’t not do – even before you feel ready. You are.
  2. Neither the voices within, nor those of “power” without have the final say. You do.
  3. Trust that life is yours to bring forth on your own and others’ behalf, no matter the risk. It is.
  4. Stand alongside other women – always and in all things. It matters.

The midwives (and countless others) stand alongside you…and me. And that’s the takeaway that matters most.

What I need you to remember:

We are desperate to see ourselves in powerful and empowering ways. It’s no wonder: we have too-often and for too long been deprived of stories that remind us who we truly are. We are ravenously hungry for those stories, for the stories of women in our lineage, our line.

Take heart! Though we live in a world that has based its predominant understanding of women on the (poorly told) story of Eve, there is another one, almost the very last story of a woman in the very same text, who once heard, makes all the difference, who does remind us of who we truly are – over and over and over again.

A while back, I made a video about her, the Woman of Revelation 12. And I’ve spent time writing more about her. Including this:

Remember who you are. Remember who you are. Remember who you are, she says.

Anything, anyone, all that has made you feel less than, even remotely disconnected from the truth that you reflect entire galaxies, that you are a veritable constellation of beauty and strength, has not really seen you and somehow, in such, you have forgotten. This breaks my heart.

Remember who you are. Put on your gown of sunlight. Step into your silver-as-the-moon stilettos. Place your crown that’s laden with glistening stars upon your head. And glow, glide, blaze through your world. Shine light in the darkest of places. Bring warmth to the coldest of nights. Sparkle brightly in the dingiest and dirtiest of places. And in your own darkness, cold, and less-than-desirable places? Turn within, turn within, turn within.

Remember who you are. Remember who you are. Remember who you are.

This is all you need to know, all you need to recall, all that ever matters.

If you will remember who you truly are, all the unnecessary and less-than-worthy things that have taken up space and energy and time in your life will fall away. If you will walk through your world today and all days embraced by the celestial light that is yours, you will not falter.

If you will remember me, the Woman of Revelation 12, you will, without question, be able to step into who you are, take your throne, and don your royal robes. And then, oh, then…you will be able to be you, be you, be you. The you you’ve always been – though sometimes disguised and distracted.  The you you’ve forgotten. The you the world has been waiting for. The you you have been waiting for. The you I have always remembered and will never forget.

Remember who you are. Remember who you are. Remember who you are. Rise up. Shine. Beam. And then some.

*******

Have I repeated it too much? Can I possibly express it enough? It’s all I want to say.

Even more true, it’s all I want to hear. It’s what I need to hear. It’s who I want to be. More than anything. And it’s what I want for you…more than anything.

Remember who are. Remember who you are. Remember who you are.

I’m right about this…

Chances are pretty high that if your desire is strong enough, acute enough, and impossible to dissuade, others will think you a bit crazy and probably way too much.

That’s the strongest indication that you’re on the right track.

Chances are pretty high that even if you get what you most desire, that more loss will yet come, that heartbreak will still occur, and that you will somehow yet endure.

That’s the strongest indication that you are amazing, strong, and more than enough.

Chances are pretty high that holding on to hope and letting go of control seem like complete contradictions and that you have the capacity to allow them both.

That’s the strongest indication that you are other-worldly and powerful beyond-compare.

Chances are pretty high that you will be called to stand your ground and defend that which you know-that-you-know-that-you-know is right and true and worthy.

That’s the strongest indication that you are oh-so-wise and most-definitely not to be triffled with.

Chances are pretty high that you need not listen to one voice / person / god / demon / cultural message / internal hiss that tells you anything other. And when you don’t?

That’s the strongest indication that you are listening to that know-that-you-know-that-you-know voice within; you believe you are worth being heard.

Chances are pretty high that I’m right about all of this. Not because I’m so amazing, but because you are.

No additional indication needed.

May it be so.