There will be days for debates on the Equal Rights Amendment and for discussions about feminism and the shocking injustice done to women in our expanding world. But today is for the quiet strength. The mundane rhythms that tie us together. The brokenness and the hope and the corporate act of holding both together.
The LORD God said, “It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him.
There are only a handful of times that I remember sensing the quiet, internal strength of women, uncorrupted by conflicting notions of power or debates about proper place. Groups of women, gathered after productive days, resting and coming together to continue weaving our legacy into the next generation.
On Easter Sunday, after the egg hunt finished and the ham had been eaten and most of the company had left, we remained, sharing stories of families and failures, of hopes and disappointments. The front porch held just seven women, spanning nearly 40 years in neat stair steps, marking our own unique generations. And there we sat, aware of the young children roaming in the front yard and the men shooting baskets nearby, but utterly wrapped up in the divine unfolding around us through the tales of heartache, redemption, and strength.
Here, in this place, all feels sacred and safe.
And in this, the power of women lies.