SheLoves Magazine

Dark is Beautiful: Learning to Love the Skin I’m In

“I want to give to young children the gift that was recently given to me: The color of your skin is not a cross you bear. It is beautiful.” 

By Lydia Durairaj

As a child and through my teens, I was often told I had so many admirable qualities that could mask the one undesirable one: my dark skin. Apparently, if I didn’t posses those “admirable” qualities, then the color of my skin would be a heavier cross to bear.

Accepting my “weakness” initially meant dealing with it the only way the world taught me. Education is an important tool used to bridge the gap between the haves and the have-nots in India. It also enables us darker girls to find our foothold in a society that undermines our value as a person.

Living in a Color-conscious World

When I worked at an inner city school in Long Beach, California, a young African-American student made the observation that she was black and yet, I was darker than she. When I returned to India to visit my sick grandmother, she remarked that even the U.S couldn’t “help me with my color.” It’s not easy to ignore these comments or the barrage of fair-skin propaganda in the media.

As I grew older, I learned to define beauty beyond color. Migrating to the U.S. helped with that process. It’s now been six years since my husband and I moved back to India. Even though I’ve embraced God’s mold for me, I still live and breathe the same air that is tainted with a preference for people unlike me.

For centuries, fair or light skin color has been a symbol of prominence, superiority and higher social ranking. An Indian girl’s marriage prospects have been— and still often are— governed by the hue of her skin. Skin whitening products today are a half-billion-dollar industry, with the latest products tailored to lighten even underarms and private parts.

Color bias crosses nations, ethnicities, races and socio-economic lines. The birthplace of colorism cannot be traced to a country or geographic region, but to the hearts and minds of those who have perpetuated this preference. Colorism impacts our thinking and our choices— whether we choose to notice it, disregard it or accept it.

Dark is Beautiful Campaign

The idea of standing up to color bias was introduced to me by a small NGO in Chennai that I now work for, called  Women of Worth. The director, a vivacious lady who witnessed the degenerating spirits of dark girls in the city, wanted to speak out against the propagation of fair skin supremacy. This gave birth to the Dark is Beautiful campaign, which aims to instill a sense of pride and comfort in one’s skin, no matter what shade of white, yellow or brown it is. 

The organization got the people of Chennai to lend their voice on this issue using various forms of artistic expressions like painting, photography, poetry and short story. For the first time,the words dark is beautiful reverberated in a public platform—not in the comfort of my mom’s shoulders or in the quietness of my meditating spirit—but in newspapers, radio waves, television news broadcasts, and social networking sites. For the first time, I witnessed people being challenged to shed their bias and value humanity.

The Gift of Color

For too long, I believed my skin color represented blemish, dirt and filth. Instead of waiting in the shadows, I should have taken my rightful place in school plays or family reunions. But I share an unspoken space and language with many other dark-skinned people who’ve hidden behind someone in a group photo, covered their smiles with the palms of their hand, and convinced themselves that they are beautiful— inside (whatever that means).

I can identify with children who struggle to comprehend their beauty and self-worth. In between hidden smiles, shy glances, and mesmerized looks of approval at the charming fair-skinned beauties, often lays helplessness, regret and shame.

As I continue to work with the Dark is Beautiful campaign, I want to give to young children the gift that was recently given to me: The color of your skin is not a cross you bear. It is beautiful. Our varied shades are expressions of our creator including and inviting us all to be his children.

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About Lydia:

Lydia Durairaj lives in Chennai, India with her husband and two children. In the coming school year, her goal is to help take Dark is Beautiful workshops to 45 schools and colleges.

Love Letter to Two Strangers

With Valentine’s Day right around the corner, you might guess I’d write about warm fuzzy feelings for those nearest and dearest. Well, you’d be half right …

By Stefanie Thomas | Twitter: @stefanie_nicole

I consider myself to be a fairly observant person (I like to think I would make a good detective), but I find it’s all too easy to go through my day without really seeing the people I cross paths with. I mean, I see them, but I don’t often pay attention to them. I see the man in the car beside me, and though we have something in common (we’re stopped at the same red light), I don’t give much thought to who he is, where he’s going, what kind of day he’s having. It’s not that I don’t care about the man in the car beside me, it’s just that I’m usually too wrapped up in my own thoughts to really consider him.

The Woman

One morning a few years ago, on my drive to work, I noticed a woman walking slowly down the street. To say she was inching her way along the sidewalk wouldn’t be an exaggeration. Her legs were bowed under the weight of her body. Having seen several loved ones struggle with “bad knees,” I guessed that this woman was living with similar pain. My heart went out to her and I prayed for God to bring comfort and healing in her body. As I put my care and attention on this woman – a total stranger – I was surprised to feel my eyes welling up with tears. Over the following weeks, I’d often see her in the early mornings, lumbering along that same stretch of road. I imagined she, too, was on her way to work. She’d round the corner and wait to be fetched by a bus. I began to look for this woman as I approached that intersection, praying for her, whether I saw her or not.

On days when I felt a bit blah or worried if I’d make it to work on time, seeing this woman snapped me right out of it. Focusing on her helped me put things into perspective. I’m not sure if my prayers were answered, but I do know without a doubt that praying for this stranger fed my heart and spirit. Eventually I found a different route to work, but I still think of that woman from time to time. I hope she has been blessed, in ways big and small.

The Man

Several years ago, one of my sisters moved into a new apartment. A big family lived in the building and I often saw the father crossing the street to collect his kids from school. In fact, I rarely visited my sister without seeing this man coming or going. Over time, sightings of the man grew more frequent. He seemed to appear out of nowhere, in different parts of town and my sisters and I would nudge each other as if to say, “Look who it is!”

The man came to recognize us and would smile and wave hello. We ran into him (and mentioned him) so often we eventually dubbed him “The Man.” The stock response to seeing him became, “Of course!”

On my birthday that year, a situation led to my family dinner being cancelled at the last minute. It became a party of two–my younger sister and I–going for a chilly nighttime walk at the beach. I was disappointed that the birthday celebration had unraveled, but decided I would  be grateful for the beauty of nature and the company of my kid sis.

And then it started to rain.

And then it started to pour.

Neither of us had an umbrella or a raincoat, so we took shelter under a big tree. As we stood there shivering, I could either have burst into laughter or burst into tears. And then, like a beacon in the night, wearing a white T-shirt and shorts (in January!), who do we see emerging from the darkness? You guessed it–The Man–out for a walk with his son.

Of course.

When I saw The Man, all of my disappointment washed away.

“It felt like a wink from God, telling me I was exactly where I was supposed to be.”

Not long after this, my sister and I were across town when we saw The Man heading our way. (Of course.) Our grins turned to surprised laughter when The Man spotted us and yelled, “I love you guys!” in his thick Eastern European accent before disappearing into a store.

Another God-wink.

Last summer, when my sister prepared to move out of her apartment, I realized that we probably wouldn’t see The Man anymore. It seemed ridiculous, but I was going to miss him. I’d grown accustomed to seeing his smile, to watching with a warm heart as he cared for his children. I never had a conversation with him, but The Man no longer felt like a stranger to me. His presence reminded me that we are all connected. Seeing him reminded me of God.

On moving day, I went to help my sister vacate her home. On one of my trips to the moving truck, I noticed The Man was also loading things into a big truck. I smiled at him and perhaps he could see the question in my expression, because he said to me: “We’re moving out today. We’re going to a new home across the bridge.”

Of course.

What perfect timing.

They would never know it, but these two strangers – this woman and this man – have touched my life. Yes, we live in a busy world and it would be impossible to pay attention to everyone we cross paths with. But once in a while, we might glance upon a stranger and pause for a beat. We might notice them, and wish for them to be loved and blessed.

Who knows, maybe we are the man who moves someone to remember God. Maybe we are the woman that someone else is praying for, right at this very moment.

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My dear SheLoves friends:

• Is there a stranger you hold up in your heart sometime?
• How does God remind you that you are in the right place at the right time?
• Any other comments?

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About Stefanie:

Stefanie is a Registered Clinical Counsellor living in Vancouver, BC. She feels blessed to work in a helping profession and is grateful that her work requires her to show up not in a power suit but with listening ears and a compassionate heart. Stefanie enjoys spending time with family and friends and has never met a kid or baby she doesn’t like. She is a noticer and appreciator of birds (chickadees, herons, eagles) and many a beach rock has come home in her pocket. Stefanie is a lover of music, tv and movies, and she is gifted at absorbing and retaining useless pop culture trivia. She loves walking, fresh air, the smell of dirt, and anything of the salt and vinegar persuasion. She can often be found puttering.

SheLoves Bubanza Project: Can Love Move this Mountain in Burundi?

This Valentine’s Day, we showed what true Love can do. 

LATEST UPDATE: Dear friends, this month we raised $7,212 for our sisters and brothers in Bubanza, Burundi. We are so grateful that together we can help bring visibility to this community and over 600 people can now have their own ID cards. A mountain has been moved, indeed.

UPDATE:  WE DID IT!!! 425 women in Bubanza will now get their ID documents. If you still want to donate, any overflow will go to fund the ID cards for the men of Bubanza. #Together certainly moves mountains of injustice. Thank you so much!

-idelette xoxo

Last week we launched the SheLove Bubanza Valentine’s Day project. We are gathering our strength to give 425 women in Bubanza, Burundi, the dignity of an Identity Card. Until now, these women have been invisible. Even though they have their government didn’t count them as citizens. We have raised $4,190 already–only 76 more ID cards to go! We want to give every woman in this community this basic human right. Please join us!

Want to give an ID card as a Valentine’s Day gift? Download your own card (as pdf) here and print it at home. (It looks great on cardstock!)

WANT TO KNOW HOW THIS ALL BEGAN?

Here’s the original story:

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Doing our part for our sisters in Burundi on the journey from Invisible to Belonging.

By Idelette McVicker | Twitter: @idelette

I remember the moment well: Driving up Granville Street, three kids in the back of the minivan and Scott at the wheel. I read my friend Kelley Johnson Nikondeha’s latest blogpost about her and hubby Claude’s work in Burundi on my phone:

“Another beginning.“

They were starting another brandnew, God-sized (read: faith required) project in Bubanza, Burundi. A community with over a thousand adults.

I read in the hurried pace of the car, speeding forward through Vancouver traffic to catch a ferry on that Friday afternoon. Inwardly, I was willing a quiet moment … dodging as best I could the crescendo of kidlet voices in the car and steeling myself against the atmosphere of Rush.

I willed myself to be present to the words … to catch my Kelley’s heart. I wanted to be open my own heart to the big work she and Claude devote their lives to.

She drew me in with this picture of a little Burundian girl:

And then these words:

“This week, life for this little girl is going to start changing.”

Kelley and Claude (a native Burundian) have faithfully visited Bubanza since 2008. They started with a small community project with the Batwa people and saw it flourishing through hard work, heart work, commitment and tenacity.

“But Bubanza,” she wrote ”is big and the terrain is tough. Hundreds of families, poor land, no water and no hope. Some have tried to help over the years–helping with some houses, but not enough. Offering occasional food, but only for a few days. No one stayed long. So the situation on the ground in Bubanza really did not change.”

“Hardship was the steady diet of these friends.”

Over the years, over dusty visits, telling stories and much dancing, the people of Bubanza have become Claude and Kelley’s friends. Each a person with a name and a story.

By this time in the story, we were at the corner close to an old favourite Starbucks. For some reason, I was aware of my own place on the earth and it seemed significant as I read her next sentence:

“We will start by advocating for human rights – identity cards, birth certificates and marriage licenses for hundreds of families.”

What? These people–these friends of my friends–don’t have identity cards? No birth certificates?

I’ll be honest: The tears welled up in me right then, just as they are now, in writing these words.

I sat there in the car with my robust family and my own story and these words stopped me in my tracks:

No. Identity. Cards.

Kelley explained: “As far as the world was concerned, they did not exist. With no official record of their existence they could claim no rights, no representation, no residence or real home. For all intents and purposes they were invisible … exiles in their own land living in the shadows of Burundian society.”

I understood a little of what this meant. I remembered the ache of not truly belonging.

While my place of nothing could never ever compare to theirs, that season of my life gave me a glimpse into the cold walls of powerlessness. I remembered how dependency keeps you small and how vulnerably naked it is without a piece of paper to mark your own spot on the earth.

I understood the world of difference between having the dignity of an identity card and not having that seemingly simple, yet profoundly important piece of paper.

The tears were streaming down my face and I had to catch gulps of air through the sobs. [This doesn't happen that often, so when it did, I paid attention.]

Lord, what can I do? I asked.

Lord, what do you need me to do?

Lord, what do you want us to do?

I emailed Kelley and started a conversation … a thread of a hope. What if one day we, the SheLoves Sisterhood, could come alongside these sisters in Bubanza?

It seemed distant and foggy.

But I set up camp by this thought and lifted my heart in prayer.

Then, over the next two months, life started to change for the people of Bubanza.

First, the arrival of trees.

Then, desks.

And, in early January, I read another one of Kelley’s blogposts:

“Come forward and be seen!”

The first 120 women in Bubanza were holding their identity cards in their hands. I could hardly believe it!

The team had decided to make the women’s identity cards a priority. These women were now–for the first time–recognized as residents of Bubanza and citizens of Burundi.

As I read that last post, it struck me how just fast the Spirit of God was moving to bring hope, dignity and strength to the people of Bubanza.

It swept through me too and I wanted to be a part of this God story.

I emailed Kelley that night, late into the night. I fought against the voice that said I was being impulsive, but I remembered the tears on that first day, so I hit “send” and enquired anyway:

- How many more women need identity cards? I asked.

- How much does it cost to get one identity card?

Maybe this would be too big for us, I doubted. I had no idea.

I asked anyway.

The next morning her response laid in the palm of my hands:

“There are 425 women in Bubanza awaiting identity cards at the cost of $12 each.”

Twelve dollars sounded so … doable. I quickly did the math on my phone:

1 x identity card @$12

x

425 women

____________

= $5,100

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Our SheLoves/LifeWomen Mama Helen Burns also caught the wind of the Spirit and said, Yes! Let’s do it!

So, this my dear SheLoves sisters, is our Valentine’s Day project for 2012–a way to show deep, meaningful and real Love to our sisters in Burundi.

- Not the hearts and chocolate kind, but the kind of Love that changes a woman’s life for good. The kind of Love that can’t help but change us as we give to others.

So, my dear friend, would you please help us in getting the word out and raise the funds to get identity cards for each and every woman in Bubanza? We’d love to do this by Valentine’s Day.

Would you join us, please, in giving towards an identity card for one woman? Five women? Ten women? A hundred women? All the women? The whole community?

As I sit with our project–and this basic human need of our friends in Bubanza–I can’t help but be reminded of this: He knows my name. He knows our names. And He knows every one of their names. And together we have an opportunity to participate in this beautiful story of Dignity and Justice.

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About Idelette:
I like soggy cereal and I would like to go to every spot on the map of the earth to meet our world’s women.

I dream of a world where no women or girls are for sale. I dream of a world where women and men are partners in doing the work that brings down a new Heaven on earth.

My word for the year is “Roar,” but I have learned it’s not about my voice rising as much as it is about our collective voices rising in unison to bring down walls of injustice.

I have three children and this place–right here, called shelovesmagazine.com–is my fourth baby. I am African, although my skin colour doesn’t tell you that story. I am also a little bit Chinese, because my heart lives there amongst the tall skyscrapers of Taipei and the mountains of Chiufen. Give me sweet chai and I think I’m in heaven. I live in Vancouver, Canada and I pledged my heart to Scott 11 years ago.

I believe in kindness and calling out the song in each other’s hearts. I also believe that Love covers–my gaps, my mistakes and the distances between us. I blog at idelette.com and tweet@idelette.

Threads of a Sister’s Story: Building Bridges of Hope

“I am inspired by women like Nikole, who recognize they are called to walk alongside others in the mutual goal of seeking justice in the world, not as a do-gooder, or a savior, but as a sister in Christ.”

By Enuma Okoro | Twitter: @TweetEnuma
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I was raised in four countries on three continents.

I am a cradle Catholic whose first memory of God is laced with multi-ethnic faces and visions of a holy Mary. I come from a family where women’s voices are loudly heard at home and in vocations around the globe. No matter how often the world and even the church may try to convince me otherwise, I cannot separate my understanding of God from my recognition of the strength and beauty of women.

It’s amazing really, the way one woman randomly encountering another woman can tell a small snippet of her story and lay a thread down, soft and silent, one more weave of rope for that hanging bridge of hope we all dangle on.

I met Nikole Lim at a speakers gathering last year. We were signed up to share a room at the conference center. Nikole is a young striking Chinese-American woman with a playful and edgy sense of style. I was not surprised to discover Nikole was a photographer and a humanitarian documentary filmmaker. As the days went on, I wasn’t even surprised to discover that she had started Freely in Hope, her own 501(c) faith-based nonprofit committed to addressing issues of poverty, sexual abuse and educational injustice for women in Kenya.

But I was surprised to find out she was only 23 years old.

And I was surprised to find out how open Nikole was to shifting her life steps in order to dance to the rhythm of God’s heartbeat, the rhythm she heard while listening to some snippet of another woman’s story.

Through a mutual friend, Nikole was introduced to Eunice, and learned about this particular Kenyan woman’s strength and resolution to overcome the violence of rape and poverty.  Humbled by Eunice’s story Nikole felt her own life forever altered and said yes to a daunting but convicting call to build a bridge between her world in California and Eunice’s world in Nairobi.

“Through Eunice’s story, I was liberated from my own selfishness,” says Nikole. “As God was challenging my heart, I felt called to start an organization to provide spiritual, educational and economic empowerment for girls worldwide. I thought that maybe, God was calling me to be a part of something greater—a part of stories that could change not only my life, but the lives of so many other women who are vulnerable to sexual abuse.”

I am inspired by women like Eunice, who in the face of horror, deep pain and mounting obstacles can courageously and gracefully hold onto the seed of knowledge that she, too, is a child of God with power and purpose.

Eunice believed in herself and in God before meeting Nikole.

I am inspired by women like Nikole, who recognize they are called to walk alongside others in the mutual goal of seeking justice in the world, not as a do-gooder, or a savior, but as a sister in Christ.

“I’ve been a witness to countless images that portray the “third world” as a place of despair,” says Nikole. “For too long, images have been used to capitalize on individuals, families and cultures. Worth has been shattered and dignity broken. My goal as a humanitarian photographer and filmmaker is to not exploit, but to leverage stories that empower, restore and transform.”

I am inspired by women who take time to listen to the still small voice of God, to discern how God would use their own unique hands and heart to foster healing in a broken world.

There are so many contexts and cultures that teach women to be passive and quiet recipients of injustice and varied forms of violence. And there are so many untold stories of women like Nikole and Eunice who do not shy away from challenge and conviction, because they believe that central to their life’s meaning and faith is the call to issue in God’s kingdom on earth as it is in heaven. Wherever Jesus went about preaching the kingdom of God and calling onlookers to reconcile themselves to God’s love, he did so hand in hand with changing people’s circumstances to reflect the type of world God envisions for all. The kingdom of God is made manifest wherever creation moves one step closer to physical, spiritual, emotional, and mental healing.

“Our vision is for women worldwide to experience God’s transformative love by living freely in hope.” -Nikole Lim , Founder of  Freely in Hope.

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My dear SheLoves sisters, I’d love to hear:

• What soft threads of another’s sister’s story have been woven into your own story of hope and purpose?
• Is there a friend, a sister’s story, that comes to mind that has particularly shaped how you live your life now?
• Any other thoughts or comments?

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About Enuma

Enuma was born in the United States and raised in Nigeria, Ivory Coast and England. She holds a Master of Divinity degree from Duke University Divinity School where she served as Director for the Center for Theological Writing. She is an author, speaker, spiritual director and continues to lead workshops and retreats on varied topics engaging the literary and visual arts, and spiritual disciplines.

Her spiritual memoir, Reluctant Pilgrim: A Moody Somewhat Self-Indulgent Introvert’s Search for Spiritual Community  (Fresh Air Books, 2010) was a winning finalist in the 2010 USA Best Books Award and received the 2011 National Indie Excellent Book Awards Winning Finalist in “Spirituality and African-American Non-Fiction.” She is co-author with Shane Claiborne and Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove of Common Prayer: Liturgy for Ordinary Radicals

Enuma’s new forthcoming book, “Silence,” will be released in Summer/Fall 2012

She also writes an online column at Patheos called “Cornering God” about women’s ways of knowing and engaging the holy. You can find her online at  www.enumaokoro.com

Photo credit: All images of Eunice, by Nikole Lim

ShePonders: Prophets

By Kelley Johnson-Nikondeha

“Prophet” is such a strong, heavy and unequivocal word in my vocabulary. But it did not begin that way.

My initial encounter with the word “prophet” was in my post-college days when I attended a Vineyard Church. People spoke of prophets as easily as they mentioned the pastor or the greeters or the janitor. Prophets were often contrasted with those gifted in mercy, implying and sometimes even saying outright that while mercy people were gentle, sensitive and touchy-feely, prophets were none of these things. A prophet saw things–about you and sometimes your future. They spoke words of personal comfort (at least the New Testament instructed them to do so); they spoke of predictions regarding the church, community and even country. They had a reputation for being brash and having sharp edges. More than once I heard it said that prophets saw in black and white.

During years steeped in this culture, I had my own personal encounters with prophets. I received many words of knowledge. These prophets claimed to know things about me or offered a God-given directive for me to follow and even spoke of grand future exploits. Some words were formative, others fell flat. Such was the way with modern prophets I surmised–even they were practicing their gift imperfectly, learning as they went.

When I entered seminary I had to engage prophets once again … but this time the robust personalities of the Old Testament. These crazed men (mostly) spoke in poetic cadence and dreamed dreams, saw visions, often acting in strange ways. They were of a different breed entirely from the prophets I knew. At first glance I wrote them off as being archaic, as outdated as the Old Testament itself. But they stayed with me and began to burrow into my psyche, those poetic verses and haunting metaphors provoking me to come closer and listen. (I must pay tribute to Biblical scholar Walter Brueggemann for offering me a proper introduction to these wild and wonderful prophets.)

And here is what I have learned about prophets–they don’t see in black and white, they see in technicolor.  Now I find it interesting that the “tech” in Technicolor was inspired by the founder’s technical training at MIT. The name of his revolutionary color process and company are an homage to inspired instruction and his own innovation in color saturation. The prophets of old are similar in this respect; they honor their inspired instruction (which comes from the Torah) and marry that with their unique innovative vision. The prophets understood deeply the words of Genesis, Exodus, Deuteronomy, Leviticus and Numbers–and that shaped what they saw and what they spoke.

Allow me to share some simple observations from years of studying these great prophets:

A prophet sees.

- A prophet can see Torah. She sees the words of God and has studied the ways of Jesus. Because these words and ways are written on her heart, she sees through them into her world.

- A prophet can see the world around her truly. She sees with clarity the good, the bad and the ugly. She sees that the dominant story of the world misleads people into elitism, racism, poverty, violence and consumerism.

- A prophet can see the margins. She sees who is there, how they got there and what keeps them on the sidelines of society.  She notices the human rights denied. She sees the invisible–who is missing from the classrooms, the hospital rooms, the voter rolls and the pews.

- A prophet can see injustice. She sees the injust structures that keep people out; the policies meant to exclude. She sees unfair trade agreements, environmental exploitation and corrupted banking systems. She sees crooked leaders and crooked laws.

- A prophet sees an alternative.  She sees another way to be in this world – a way rooted in Torah, love and justice.  She sees God’s abundance, not scarcity.  She sees humanity in her enemy and knows that forgiveness must be on offer.  She sees conflict and dreams of reconciliation, swords into plows (or tanks into tractors).

- A prophet sees newness. She sees that God is doing a new thing. God is on the move with fresh ideas and a fount of creative energy. She knows the world may be in a rut of poor choices–but God is not stuck! He is free and leading us into new freedom all the time, she has seen it!

- A prophet sees potential. She understands that the way the world is now is not set in stone. She sees potential for age-old wrongs to be set right in our day, for the brutally broken to know gentle mending, for systems of oppression to give way to unprecedented liberation, for truth to trump the lies we believe about ourselves and others.

- A prophet sees the connections. She sees the connection between her personal issues, the ones that hit closest to home, and the public practices. So her difficult pregnancy allows her to see the infant and maternal mortality rates in other countries. Her white skin and accompanying privilege help her see those in townships without access to something as simple as books. Losing her home makes her see the underside of the economic system that benefits some and exploits others. She sees the connections beyond herself, out into the larger world that God has called her to address.

- A prophet sees the colors. She sees the dark and dim for what it is. She also sees the bright and bursting hues–and all the shades in between. Seeing color means seeing life in its full spectrum.

A prophet speaks.

A prophet speaks the truth about the world as she finds it, looking through Torah-colored glasses. She speaks truth not just to power; she speaks truth to the status quo. She says that this is not the only way life can be! This is not the only way to manage your family! This is not the only way to run the world! Children don’t have to die of malaria–girls don’t have to miss out on education. Ecosystems don’t have to be trashed!

She looks at the world as it is and says it can be otherwise.

A prophet speaks about an alternative way. She tells us that there is another kingdom where justice reigns.  She says there is a better option than Caesar. She dares to say that violence is not the only way to bring peace. She tells another story and narrates a new world of possibility into existence guided by the Spirit.

A prophet speaks … wherever God leads her. She offers her voice to tell His story, she offers her voice to advocate for others (because she sees them) and proclaim good news. She speaks and allows her voice to become His–and that is what the prophets of old did when they spoke to their community. The prophets had eyes that saw, ears that heard and voices that spoke His truth into their world.

May it be so for us … women who can see, hear and speak into His world in full color and full voice!

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My dear SheLoves sisters,

• What has been your experience with the word “prophet?”
• What stirs in you and speaks to you now?
• Any other comments or thoughts? I’d love to hear.

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Audio:  ShePonders: Prophets

Click on the link above for an audio experience of Kelley’s post.

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About Kelley:

Kelley Johnson Nikondeha is co-director of Amahoro Africa and international staff member of Community of Faith with her husband Claude. She’s a thinker, connector, advocate, avid reader and mother of two beautiful children. Kelley lives between Arizona and Burundi. She loves handwritten letters, homemade pesto and anything written by Walter Brueggemann.

To Give a Hundred Thank You’s

How many Thank You’s do we have, written on our hearts?

By Idelette McVicker | Twitter: @idelette

Last Monday night, a few of us “SheLovers” gathered in my home and online to pray, hug, sip on warm Vanilla Rooibos tea and give thanks for what God had done in and through us in 2011. I am thankful for everyone of you who showed up, skyped in or tried to skype in.

I was reminded how God comes to live inside of our words and makes a home inside of our thank you’s.

God truly inhabits our praises.

So, we said thank you. And I’d love to continue to say thank you, in this very space where we gather daily, bring our hearts and our words, our comments and our shares.

Today I am sharing a list of 31 thank you’s (some inspired by what was said last Monday night), but I’m hoping you would share what you are thankful for too. How great would it be if we, together, could write a hundred Thank You’s to the God who writes this story in us and through us.

So, today I am thankful for:

1. a Sisterhood who gathers, because we believe Love can transform our world.
2. a Sisterhood who brings stories as offerings.
3. the power of words.
4. living in a time of technology, so we can connect with Stacy in Chennai, Stephanie in Kampala, Neritia in Cape Town and friends everywhere.
5. a Sisterhood that is global.
6. a daily deposit here.
7. different voices gathering here.
8. a place where we may practice our voices.
9. a place where our stories are welcome.
10. a place where we celebrate authenticity.

 I am thankful for …

11. a place where our voices get stronger and clearer as we write.
12. a community who believes in cheering each other on.
13. showing a different way for women to be together, love each other and encourage each other.
14. girl stories.
15. aligning us with Your heart.
16. a space that’s about heart, not age.
17. a space that encourages me, stirs me, moves me, challenges me, grows me.
18. a space that celebrates the feminine heart.
19. a space that facilitates the uniqueness of every individual.
20. a place that reminds me, “I am not alone.”

And thank You for this:

21. a space that nurtures my soul.
22. a place of Together.
23. a place where transparency is more than ok.
24. a place to celebrate our feminine mind.
25. a Sisterhood who sees Beauty in everyone, everywhere.

26. a Sisterhood who believes in the value of what each one of us has in our hands.
27. a Sisterhood who mobilizes.
28. a Sisterhood who acts.
29. a Sisterhood who cares about justice … in our hearts, our backyards and to the ends of the earth.
30. a Sisterhood made up of women who Love.

And yes–absolutely yes–I am thankful for: 

31. a Sisterhood who gives …

* * *

PS: 32. Thank You, God, for weaving us together into something Beautiful.

33. Thank You, God, that You tell the best stories with our lives.

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Now, my dear SheLovers:

Has this space meant something to you, called something out of you, grown something in you?
What about the women in your world?

What are you thankful for? I’d so love for us together to give a hundred thank you’s.

I’d  *love* to hear what you are thankful for–for what was, what is and for what is to come.

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About Idelette:
I like soggy cereal and I would like to go to every spot on the map of the earth to meet our world’s women.

I dream of a world where no women or girls are for sale. I dream of a world where women and men are partners in doing the work that brings down a new Heaven on earth.

My word for the year is “Roar,” but I have learned it’s not about my voice rising as much as it is about our collective voices rising in unison to bring down walls of injustice.

I have three children and this place–right here, called shelovesmagazine.com–is my fourth baby. I am African, although my skin colour doesn’t tell you that story. I am also a little bit Chinese, because my heart lives there amongst the tall skyscrapers of Taipei and the mountains of Chiufen. Give me sweet chai and I think I’m in heaven. I live in Vancouver, Canada and I pledged my heart to Scott 11 years ago.

I believe in kindness and calling out the song in each other’s hearts. I also believe that Love covers–my gaps, my mistakes and the distances between us. I blog at idelette.com and tweet@idelette.

Freedom Starts with Me: 21 Things We Can Do Today to End Sex Trafficking

By Michelle Miller

Today is National Human Trafficking Awareness Day in the United States. Today we stand for Freedom by looking at ways we can be part of the change, starting in our own hearts.

21 things we can do today to end sex trafficking:

1. Address the brokenness in my own life.
2. Oppose the legalization (total decriminalization) of prostitution.
3. Stop viewing pornography.
4. Make lifestyle choices that don’t further global inequality.
5. Educate myself and others about human trafficking.
6. Become an abolitionist.
7. Promote gender equality and human dignity in your daily life.
8. Directly ask the men in my life if they pay for sex.
9. Give women the same opportunities as men.
10. Partner with the efforts of REED and other organizations who fight for freedom.
11. Advocate for just immigration policies and safe paths of migration.
12. Pray for the freedom of men and women affected by brothels in my city.
13. Question the norm of “sex for sale.”
14. Support the education of women and girls, especially in developing countries.
15. Protest the proliferation of the “pimp ‘n ho’” culture.
16. Seek freedom from a lifestyle of consumerism.
17. Contact my governmental representative with my concerns about trafficking and prostitution.
18. Become a foster parent.
19. Do not stigmatize prostituted women.
20. Challenge those who make sexist “jokes.”
21. Pray for healing to come in the area of trafficking and sexual exploitation.

QUESTIONS & CONVERSATION:

• What idea moves you to act today?
• Where will you start today?

About Michelle

Michelle Miller is Executive Director of REED (Resist Exploitation, Embrace Dignity). Founded in May 2005, REED stands against trafficking and sexual exploitation through outreach, advocacy and education.

Photo credit: Hong Kong street sign by Kay Chernush for the U.S. State Department.

SheLoves: Christmas Card Project for Famine Relief in East Africa

What if we all did something?

By Daniela Schwartz | Twitter: @dannyschwartz

We were sitting at family dinner and I was trying to get my eight-year-old boy to eat his food. I heard the words leave my lips: “Owen, you should be thankful for the food you have, there are starving children in Africa.”

My husband added: “Actually, there’s a famine in East Africa.”

We explained how there’s no rain and no means to grow or raise food. That unless aid is sent, people will starve to death. I could see the concern on Owen’s face, but that is where we left it. Later that night, in bed, I was surfing on Pinterestfor home decor and my baby boy’s first birthday party ideas. Then, in the midst of looking at a sea of beautiful things, I saw this image:

REUTERS/Yannis Behrakis

The image disturbed me to my soul. Dinner with my son came to mind. I laid in bed that night thinking, Who am I? What am I really teaching my kid? Am I saying: Feel guilty … and eat your food, because that will help the people of East Africa? Am I a women of action?

Do I want to teach my kids that bad things happen and someone else will take care of it? That’s so not who I am and Owen is capable of doing something.

As that moment I was two days post running in our SheLoves Half-Marathon for Living Hope. My body was still in pain from the beating it took during the 90 days of training and I was tired, but I knew this was an opportunity to teach Owen.

I emailed the image to my friend, Idelette (the editor of SheLoves) and we began to talk about what we could do. She was also two days post half-marathon, but she had been equally moved/haunted. We also prayed and giggled a little at our gumption. (Sidenote: Isn’t “gumption” a fantastically under-used word today? )

We birthed the idea of a Christmas card project. The children would design the art; it was important to us that the children be part of this project.

The next night I was tucking Owen in and I told him about the idea. I saw the little wheels turning in his head; then his eyes lit up and he said to me: “That is actually a pretty good idea, Mom.”

[Yes, Owen, your mother is no slouch.]

He was so excited to get started and said, “Just wait! I’ll get my markers and some paper.”

Bingo!

Empowered.

The Project

We have put together a collection of ten pieces of art, created from the hearts of our children. These have been printed up as Christmas cards and we are selling these packs of cards to raise funds and awareness for the famine happening at this very moment in East Africa.

My prayer is that our children will know that no hands are too little in God’s hands.

All proceeds from this project will be donated to World Vision to support their efforts in East Africa. There are 10 million people in desperate need at this moment and we have the power to help.

Here’s what I know: We can’t do everything, but we can all do something.

Here’s my something … because I am a woman of action.
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Would you consider joining us in doing something, by purchasing these Christmas cards? 

• To buy online, please visit our etsy shop:

SheLoves Christmas on Etsy

• Christmas Cards are also available for sale at the Relate Church Bookstore, located at 6788 152 Street, Surrey, BC.

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About Daniela:
Daniela is stepping into the role of stay-at-home mom. She loves Jesus, her husband and kids and jumps feet first into opportunities to serve in her community. Daniela lives by this statement, “Preach the gospel always, use words when necessary.” She loves to live life big and laughs a lot. She blogs with her twin sister Trinity at Lime in the coconuts.

Advent: Embracing the Wait

On vacant bellies, forgetting a blankie and being stuck in Bangkok traffic.

By Stacy Wiebe

Tucked discreetly between Black Friday and Cyber Monday, is this day: the first Sunday of Advent.

This is a day not for pursuing or possessing, but for remembering the longing, the aching, the not-yet-possessing. It is a day for waiting.

Today, we remember the hopes and fears of the Jewish people awaiting a Messiah – the one who would atone for personal guilt and sin, as well as dismantle systemic oppression and social injustice, topple tyrants, free the enslaved, and lift up the poor.

We enter into this sense of longing today as we light the Advent candle of hope … and we wait.

Waiting is not something my humanity relishes. It tells me that I am not in control, that there are purposes beyond my own.

A few days ago, our family was stuck in traffic outside Bangkok, Thailand. We’d forgone eating lunch in the airport and asked our taxi driver to stop at McDonalds. Traffic edged along in inches, and at 4:30 pm, I realized my children had never in their lives waited so long for lunch. I felt powerless to do anything for them. Suddenly I had a window into another world: What of the mothers who send their children to bed, night after night, with hot tears and vacant bellies?

It was also in this traffic jam that we discovered that my daughter had left her beloved baby blanket at our previous hotel, now hundreds of miles away. More tears. More helplessness. And my soul opened a crack more: What of the families affected by Thailand’s floods – of precious possessions washed away?

Being stuck in Thailand’s traffic reminded me that waiting can be a spiritual discipline. Not only does it reveal my utter dependence on God, it also affords the opportunity to turn my longing into an offering—sweet-smelling incense that lifts up others to the throne of grace.

This Advent, I want to give Jesus the gift of my waiting. Whether it’s at the grocery store, at the traffic light, or just pausing as my children finish their sentences, I want to wait mindfully. For me this means:

1. Seeking to be present to others’ needs.
2. Shooting up “flash prayers” for people standing in line with me, praying that they will see Jesus in their world today.
3. Meditating on the many psalms that tell our souls to “wait for the Lord.” Choosing to trust that my children will see God work all things out for good.
4. Interceding for the poor, the displaced, the enslaved, the oppressed. Of praying, even so, come Lord Jesus!

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About Stacy: 

Stacy Wiebe likes biriyani, books and things that grow. She’s lived in Chennai, India for the past three years, writing and speaking with WOW and other non-profits.

Image: Bangkok traffic at night, by Ginny Warner

Seeking Eve Monday: On Trusting When it’s Scary

” … this year has shown me that my backup plans are useless when my world spins out of control.”

By Christina Crook
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The carelessness of childhood is, in its essence, the truest living of all.

It’s the perfect embrace of beauty. Of time and place. The unhurried presentness a seven-year-old has mastered in her 2,679 days of breathing in life.

She hasn’t had time to numb. She hasn’t yet descended into the torturous loss of perfect love. She hasn’t yet said goodbye to daddy, mommy. She hasn’t locked up the first, middle or last parts of her heart to save herself from the confusion of misdealt authority: teachers, politicians and preachers. Her eyes are still fierce with aim, clear as a glacial spring. She is new. She is here. She is now.

Jesus asked his disciples, “Who, then, is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” He called a little child to him, and placed the child among them. And he said: “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever takes the lowly position of this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.” (Matthew 18)

Who among us is real like a child? Untethered. Unscripted. Abandoned in our love?

Our friend Emily is learning to live like a child all over again …

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My name is Emily Lucima.

Faith to me means trusting when it’s scary.

What I mean by that is when you lose a child, you and your husband lose your jobs, and your health declines all in the span of three months and you can’t see how life is going to turn around, you’re left with very few options – you’re left with what lives in your heart. You’re left with the truths you believe and have the opportunity to see how deeply you believe them, how strong your foundations are.

I have discovered that I have a lot more digging to do to strengthen my foundations. I used to worry. I used to be negative. I say “used to” because I am learning that’s not who I am created to be. I’m learning to speak what I know is positive and true regardless of what I see. I’m learning to trust when it’s scary.

These last few months have taught me that in 34 years of living, I had only trusted God as long as I had a backup plan: in case what he promised didn’t pan out. However, this year has shown me that my backup plans are useless when my world spins out of control. I am learning to admit when I don’t trust God, to take time to talk with him and tell him that I’m just not there. But then, more importantly, I am learning how to ask him to hold my hand and help me walk forward, choosing to trust him–even when I have no idea what tomorrow looks like or how any of this is going to change.

When I was little, I didn’t see this year coming. I had plans and dreams of what my life would look like and, truthfully, it didn’t look like this. On the flip side, my life looks a lot more like it did when I was six.

I grew up with amazing parents who worked hard and gave us the best of themselves. Though we didn’t have much at times, I can never remember lack in our house. I went to church weekly, was taught that I am loved greatly and deeply. I was taught that I am created for a purpose and was allowed to pursue my creativity with encouragement. I grew up just knowing that things were okay and that everything would work out somehow.

Somewhere along the way I forgot the simple things I knew as a child. I lived in the missed opportunities and the hurt. I learned to expect the negative. This crazy year (and my amazing husband) have taught me to remember what the six-year-old me knew so well: that things will be okay and that everything will work out.

My days are filled with the anticipation of things to come. God has restored my health and I believe for complete restoration before the year is out. This past year, provision came from places we never would have expected: people who love us helped us make ends meet at times and people we have never even met blessed us with what they had. God picked out two new jobs for me (literally – I got a phone call out of the blue and the other I stumbled across online) in two industries I never would have looked in, at companies I had never even thought of working at, where everyone loves to come to work. I now work with amazing women who love to encourage one another!

My days are filled with hope again. I’m learning to combine hope with “scary” faith in order to see the things I imagine come to life. I anticipate growing closer to the Father because I am realizing how much he loves me, how much I have been blessed with and how much more he wants to give.

I wish this year had been different. I often find myself wondering: “What if … ?” But I am learning to stop that train of thought, resolving to stop living in the past and start living for today.

A few weeks ago, I told a large group of people that this has been the worst year of my life. Shortly afterwards I realized that it’s not. This year of great tragedy has the potential to be our year of greatest victory because we’ve had so much to overcome!

The thing is: perspective. Instead of seeing this place as a deep dark hole I’m stuck in, Holy Spirit has shown me I can choose to see this as a purposeful time and place. Not a hole, but a building site: a place where I can work on digging deeper because I need a strong foundation for the amazing things I am going to build in my lifetime alongside my Lord and the great dreamer I call husband.

Today I give myself permission to be real about where I’m at in this walk we call “faith.” But I’m choosing not to live in yesterday. I’m choosing to tell Disappointment that I won’t be entertaining it. I’m learning to live from a place where I know that I don’t conduct the time and the seasons, so I hold a little less tightly to my plan and learn to be content.

I’m choosing to live and declare Psalm 28:7 “My heart trusts in him and I am helped.”

—–>>>You can read Emily’s blog Light Waters here.

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Would you like to contribute a Seeking Eve story?

I’d love to hear your story. Please share it by emailing Christina at seekingeve[@]gmail.com

To find words for your story, try following these lines, as Emily did:

Faith to me means [community / hope / food / sacrifice / art / etc] …

What I mean by that is …

When I was little I …

My days are filled with …

I wish …

The thing is …

Today I give myself permission …

About Christina:

Christina recently traded the seaside views of Bowen Island, BC for the banks of Toronto’s Humber River where she, her husband and two young children attend Grace Toronto Church. Her work has appeared in MUSE and Vancouver magazine, and is forthcoming in UPPERCASE, Geez and the Literary Review of Canada. She is the founder of SeekingEve.ca and blogs at www.christinacrook.com.