Reaching Through the Crowd for Holy: The Power of Tenacity

“Like a stranger in a crowd, she reached through life’s thick noise and laid finger on my skin, asking …”

By Idelette McVicker | Twitter: @idelette

vi. Reach: to move toward something in order to touch or grasp it

Girl gets on a bus and travels three days across the country to reach a place where she’s heard she may find Freedom.

Swiss girl ignores noise and naysayers, pushes through red tape and bureaucratic objections and gets on a plane for the country where she believes she’s meant to live.

Woman thinks doors have closed, but listens to the still, small voice in her heart and tries the one more thing. She pushes in, pushes through and the holy doors finally–finally!–swing open wide and welcome.

It would have been easy not to. Easy to give up. Easy to stop for a latte, instead. Not to push and reach and stretch and lean in to touch the skin of the Holy One.

The crowds were so thick.

It would have been fully understandable not to.

It would have been easy to stay right where she’s at.

But what would she have missed?

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My phone beeped with a Twitter text. Direct Message (Twitterspeak) on a Saturday night from a girl in another city who is both facebook and Twitter friend—enquiring if perhaps we could Skype sometime? Voice to voice. Heart to heart.

Like a stranger in a crowd, she reached through life’s thick noise and laid finger on my skin, asking for an hour of my attention.

I already had to postphone once, so this–her second ask–compels me to look at my calendar. The seven times 24-hours of the week brimming with the demands and joys of life.

Monday. Booking a birthday party for the seven-year-old. Buying invitation cards. Writing invitations. Driving kidlets to and from school. Back and forth. Back and forth.

Same Monday–pushing through the details of booking a three-city trip to Africa. Arrangements and travel plans and emails and phone calls.

Tuesday. Mom, far away, going in for surgery. Calling South Africa on the other side of our day to be “with,” somehow.

Wednesday. One meeting in the morning. Two meetings out in the evening.

Thursday. Hosting ten bookclub darlings at my home with papaya salsa and shiraz and connecting over written words.

All week: Spiritual mom fighting her own fight, a little closer.

And through this life-that-is-a whole-lotta-life, I also make dinner and school lunches and pour Rice Crispies into three blue porcelain bowls and squeeze in a hug for husband on his way to work.

But she asked. And there was something in the asking, the persisting—the reaching through the crowd—that crystallized into an appointment on my calendar.

Friday. 11am.

Speak to the Bones

When Friday morning came, my four-year-old had a playdate. The house fell quiet and I opened my pink Message–time feeling so much like the most delicious luxury–to a favourite passage in Ezekiel. The 37^th chapter.

“Breath of Life,” the heading. About dry bones: a picture of death, finality, impossibility. A story of God and prophet, standing side by side and the Divine directing the human to speak Life to the already-past-hope emptiness.

And as prophet spoke, the bones started to rattle and stretch and move and come together. Until prophet-man saw that the bones had no breath in them and he’s instructed this time: “Prophesy to the breath.”

I opened my exercise book with the blue cover. Black pen moved to curve out sentences of scripture … a quiet practice to calm the rush within and let Spirit speak. Copying, like ancient scribe. I slow down and watch my pen move, writing these holy words on such ordinary paper.

Then it’s time. We Skype and in I hear about a past threaded with both filling hunger and denying hunger.

Moments of decision I know so very well in my own bones: whether I would choose good for my body because I have a body worthy of good things. Or whether I would give in to the inner battle, that wanting to deny deny deny self.

I have heard those words shouting from within: You are not worthy of a good feeding. You are not worthy of the nutrition and the time and the effort of feeding your body of what is good.

I have fought that voice over many feedings—including hasty Mommy days when I would chop veggies for the kids, but would neglect to set a plate for me. Who has time to sit and eat when you’re serving and feeding hungry mouths?

We talked about Jairus’ daughter and she shared how different it was to sit with this story in a room of women who struggled with denying self of good food. And how Jesus specifically instructed those around the awakened daughter to feed her.

“ … he told them to give her something to eat.” –Mark 5:43

With the words from a holy hungry Friday post one week earlier still echoing powerfully in my spirit, I finally asked: May I pray for you?

Yes, please, she said.

We prayed and invocation streamed from lips and heart.

Speak to the Hunger, I heard.

And I thought about Jairus’ daughter and girls everywhere who need to rise up and eat, eat, eat and so I prayed more, all the while doing my best to listen from Above  …  Praying:

That she would eat from the goodness of God

and the feast of friendship

Eat eat eat

from the gift of community.

Eat from a table of purpose and know what she is to do in this world.

Eat from unconditional Love.

Eat, girl, from Value. Even swallow Worth whole, if you like.

Eat from Heaven and be nourished, satisfied, full …

Amen.

Talitha Koum

I dolloped it out in words as best I could from a heart so hungry for more girls to awaken and rise and eat and get well.

The words flowed strong and when I looked up, she was wiping tears.

What gift, I thought. For me as much as her. What gift that we could meet and she could find nourishment in these prayer words. What gift that I could find such inspiration in her faith–this woman-girl reaching through the crowd, asking for what she needed. 

That holy holy holy moment on a Friday morning reminded me:

- What power in this faith-stretched Asking for what we need.

- What power in sharing stories and bending hearts together before Heaven.

- What power, so readily available when we are willing to sink our teeth into the knowing-that-we-know and push through the crowd to find Holy right there at the end of our reach.

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My dear SheLoves friends:

• I would love to hear a story of when your tenacity led to a Holy touch.
• What do you need or want to push through the crowd for in this season? Today?
• Who or what represents the crowd keeping you from where you want to go?
• O, so many days I need to eat from patience. Some days I need to eat from forgiveness. Today I need to eat from quiet confidence. What do you need to eat from today?
• Any other comments or thoughts?

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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.

ShePonders: Ruth the Moabite

Who are the Moabites in our community? Do we exhibit the hospitality of Naomi or the courage of Boaz toward them?

By Kelley Johnson-Nikondeha | Twitter: @kelljnik

I’ve always found Ruth to be a lovely person–kind, gentle and good to her mother-in-law.  I just never found her to be very compelling. From time to time I have read commentaries on the Book of Ruth in an attempt to connect with her–after all, we are part of the sisterhood. But still, this story failed to captivate me even a little bit.  Until I came across a new lens which reframed the narrative for me.[i]

What if Ruth is not just a beautiful story, but a parable meant to challenge the way we think?

Rebuilding

When the story of Ruth was first told, Israel was just hobbling back from the destruction of the temple and exile in Babylon. The Persians, after conquering Babylon, decided to send the Israelites back to their homeland in the hope that they would stimulate that local economy and increase the tax base for the Persian Empire. So, under the leadership of Ezra and Nehemiah, the restoration began–rebuilding the temple in Jerusalem and redefining what it meant to be a good Jew. What the Jewish community craved in the aftermath of national tragedy was certainty about their geography and clarity about their identity.

Now returning to the pages of Ruth, we notice something quite curious. There is a steady drumbeat; a word repeated so often that no self-respecting Jew could miss it: Moab/Moabite. The writer of this story does not let us ever forget that the story began in Moab; it crossed the Jordan into Israel with a Moabite in tow. As a matter of fact, the writer refers to Ruth the Moabite in each of the four chapters of the book. Again, we are not allowed to forget that the protagonist of the story is a Moabite woman. If you were Jewish at the time of the temple rebuilding, this would leave a rather bitter taste in your mouth. It is a lovely story, but why all the mentions of Moabites?

In their hunger for defining their new place in the world, the Jewish thought leaders of the day made one thing very clear: No Moabites allowed. 

According to Deuteronomy Moabites were not allowed in the assembly of the Lord, not allowed to ever convert to Judaism. According to both Ezra and Nehemiah, no Israelite was allowed to marry a Moabite.  There was to be no hint of Moabite blood in the new Israelite lineage and no trace of them in the temple. Moabites were the clear enemy during this time of history, and Israelites were making a clear line of demarcation that they were not allowed in.

So, you can see why Ruth the Moabite created a bit of awkwardness as they read this lovely story. But the real sting came at the end of the story, saying  “They named him (Ruth’s son) Obed; he became the father of Jesse, the father of David.” And again (for emphasis) the closing line is a mention of Boaz the father of Obed, Obed the father of Jesse and Jesse the father of David. Period. What a Jewish reader would have immediately heard, loud as a fire alarm, is that King David–the ultimate Israelite and most revered king–had Ruth the Moabite as his great grandmother. The primer Jew has Moabite blood running through his veins.

What does a good Jew during the Persian Restoration do with this story?

- Moabites were persona non grata in Israel–and yet: Moabites are part of the bloodline of King David.

- Moabites represent all the hostility to our ancestors–and yet: Moabites gave us the genes of a King.

- Moabites are bad, impure, pagan–and yet: this Moabite woman is loyal, hard-working and humble.

Amid the angry rhetoric about the unclean, never-to-be-converted-or-forgiven Moabites, comes this story that raises soul-searching questions. If there was no Ruth the Moabite, then there would be no King David. So, is intermarriage to a Moabite really the zenith sin? If King David, so passionate in his worship of God, has Moabite blood then can other Moabites worship with such abandon too? If Ruth the Moabite was such a good woman, then might there be others like her in Moab?  The story of Ruth becomes a challenging parable within the biblical story itself about how we encounter “the other” or “the enemy” as we seek to worship God with greater purity. It forced the Jews then (and us now) to ask hard questions about radical inclusivity of every “other” in our world.

Closer

Sometimes we cross paths with Ruth the Moabite in our community.  It happens when we listen to a story that upends our personal, inherited or cultural prejudices. When you think all the people on welfare are lazy–and then you meet a woman who gets food stamps, but works 12 hours a day cleaning homes to provide for her family and make her mortgage payment. When you think any woman wearing a hijab supports violent jihad–and then you befriend a Middle Eastern woman who shares about her hunger for peace in Jerusalem and desire to see her sons contribute something beautiful to the world.  Or you think all homosexuals are hedonistic and bent–until you have conversations late into the night about theology, the wild ways of Jesus and the joy of fidelity with a woman married (to another woman).

Meeting Ruth the Moabite and listening to her can redefine how we think of “the other” and compel us to ask good soul-shaping questions.

As we read the Book of Ruth we would do well to heed the story’s challenge and consider the Moabites in our community. Who are they? How do we treat them? Do we exhibit the hospitality of Naomi or the courage of Boaz toward them?

And one last challenge Ruth the Moabite has left with me: Can I envelop those radically different from myself into my very story?  King David had a bit of Israel and a bit of Moab in him, embracing enemies in his very flesh. Can I let “the other” that close–that deep? Can I recognize “the other” that is present in me? Richard Rohr wrote a book entitled “Everything Belongs.” The title really says it all. But I have been wondering today–can everything, and everyone truly belong?  Can I embrace opposites and others, seeing that they are within me and make me who I am meant to be in this world?

Now I find Ruth the Moabite to be a stunning story that compels me to think in new directions.

So, my SheLoves friends:

• What has the story of Ruth meant to you?
• Who are the Moabites in your neighborhood?
• Any other thoughts or comments?

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AUDIO:<<< ShePonders: Ruth the Moabite>>>

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

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[i] ‘The Power of Parable:  How Fiction by Jesus Became Fiction about Jesus“ by John Dominic Crossan

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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.

Letter to My Eldest Daughter

“… there are hardworking, brave, crazy, passionate blood-women pulsing in that exposed heart of yours and you took in their guts and soul with your mother’s milk.”

By Sarah Bessey

Blog: www.emergingmummy.com | Twitter: @sarahbessey

Dearest Anne, my full of grace girl:

It seems sometimes like you were born without a rib cage around your heart–you are so tender, so wide open, so innocent and welcoming that I can hardly bear it. You love so quickly and easily without thought of looks or creed, economics or appropriateness, borders or demarcations. Your default setting is trust, forgiveness offered before asked.

So, I want to be your rib cage, to protect your heart from bruises or breakage but the truth is that your heart is strong and wide for its very exposure. And you are so brave in your innocence, I learn from you. You made me a mother, small girl, and now my own ribs are cracked wide and through loving you, I am reacquainted with my own thumping too-tender self, and I am discovering a wide family of global sisterhood.

I claim my corner of your life and half of your blood, for the teaching of the big nouns and verbs of love and peace, justice and mercy, faith and laughter, servanthood and courage, along with the sacredness of work and beauty through the small daily life we live together now. There isn’t much drudgery in laundry and dishes anymore. I have found God in these small tasks because, together, we are learning. Nor do I find despair in working for freedom, equality, mercy and justice in our own family ways, because together we are learning hope and making space for God.

You see, you remind me a lot of myself. You may look like your Dad, but in your heart of hearts, you carry my temperament and personality. Sometimes that thrills me. Other times, it terrifies me. Because I simply want to tip over and pour everything of my own self out for you; I want you to know NOW what took me 33 years to learn about myself.

And knowing that you take after me in the good ways and in the let’s-be-honest-I’m-a-wreck-sometimes ways, I feel like I could write a book of rules and wisdom hard earned. Stupid things like, hey, don’t dye your hair black (trust me–it never washes out) and also, Charlie perfume makes a really poor cover-up for the smell of cigarette smoke. I know we’ll get to those ridiculous stories of my life, the ones that make you laugh at me. But I’ll also tell you my other stories about how I fell in love with your dad and what I think love looks like; how I love you and your brother and Evelynn, deep into my marrow, where my bones are alive.

I’ll trace the line of time backwards for you until you see the women that came before you in a great cloud of witnesses for your life. Not to burden you, small pixie, but to empower you.

After all, there are hardworking, brave, crazy, passionate blood-women pulsing in that exposed heart of yours and you took in their guts and soul with your mother’s milk.

We are thumping along with you, out here in the world now, reminding you that you are fearfully and wonderfully made. And you have a voice and a reason for being. You have a future and a hope. Know who you are, small girl, and when you forget, we’ll remind you. You are already a girl after God’s own heart, your ears are tuned to the Holy Spirit’s frequency and you comb the air like a spider. You’re paying attention.

Be a woman who loves.

How am I so blessed as to raise you up into womanhood? Your own story, yes, all yours, will be a beautiful thing to see unfold and I’m privileged for my front-row seat. You have helped me see every other mother in the world with walls-crumbling-down eyes. Every little girl could have your face, and now it’s not enough just to raise you well to a suburb with a mini-van to go to church on Sunday and pay your taxes. I am learning the counter-cultural in my own life and sowing it with prayer into yours. A life that tells a story of love, because every girl could be you, every mama could be me and every woman could be us, so we speak up, we pray, we sow our seed in hope and faith.

One morning, when you were four, we sat together and you asked me if I remembered when you were a baby and how we used to make each other laugh. I think you must have been looking at old pictures of that (but who knows? maybe you do remember?).

And I said, Yes, yes, I do remember.

And you said, We loved each other right from the start, didn’t we?

Yes, yes we did.

Love, Mummy

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Editor’s note: Sarah first wrote this post on International Women’s Day 2011. It gripped my heart then and has been one of my favourite pieces of Sarah’s ever since. This week, I made an exception with this post and asked Sarah if we could repost it from emergingmummy.com. I wanted our SheLoves readers to also have an opportunity to enter into this story, so it may be part of our collective memory as a sisterhood. –idelette xo

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About Sarah:

Sarah Styles Bessey lives in Abbotsford, BC with her husband and three tinies. She’s a happy clappy Jesus-lover, advocate for Mercy Ministries of Canada, blogger, writer and simple living/social justice wannabe. She blogs at www.emergingmummy.com and tweets from @sarahbessey.

There’s No Friend Like a Sister

“To me, sisterhood isn’t so much about bloodlines as it is about heartlines. Whether related or not, life is just better when we have sisters by our side.”

By Stefanie Thomas | Twitter: @stefanie_nicole

“There are a lot of women in my family.” I’ve said that before–in one of my previous SheLoves posts. To hone in a little today: there are a lot of sisters in my family.

If my extended family were a movie, it would be Sister Act.
If we were a disco band, we’d be Sister Sledge.

You get the picture. This last example is especially fitting, for on many occasions my sisters and I have been lured onto the dance floor by their 70’s anthem: “We are family … I’ve got all my sisters with me.”

“Sister” is one of my favourite words.

I was born the middle of three girls. When I came along, my older sister was almost three, and my younger sister followed me by two years.

In the Middle

When people hear I’m the middle child, their reaction is commonly tinged with pity. If their mouth doesn’t say it, their eyes do: “You poor, overlooked, had-to-fight-for-attention soul.” When I meet other middle children, they often nod and flash me a knowing look that suggests we’re part of the same hard-done-by club. I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised by these reactions. I mean, did you know there’s actually something called Middle Child Syndrome? It’s a syndrome, people!

But I have to say I have a different perspective on what it’s like to be the middle child. Sure, I can imagine it would have been nice to bask in my parents’ undivided attention a little more often than I did. There were times growing up when it felt unfair that my sisters got away with stuff I couldn’t – one because she was The Oldest and one because she was The Baby. But overall, I’ve always felt lucky to be in the middle.

At times when the five-year gap between my sisters made it hard for them to relate to one another, I could identify with both of them. One minute I’d be sitting cross-legged on my older sister’s bed, watching her crimp her hair and put on make-up as she got ready to go to Bumpers teen dance club. We’d listen to music (she and her Cool New Wave friends made Cool New Wave mixed tapes, which, in typical kid sister fashion, I coveted) and she’d tell me which cute boys she was hoping to see that night. The next minute I’d be making up dance routines in the living room with my younger sister, or reading Archie comics together while waiting for “Charles in Charge” to start.

As a kid, I didn’t give much thought to whether or not I wanted to spend time with my sisters. We shared the same parents, houses, schools and vacations, so it was pretty much a given that we’d be together a lot. But as we grew up, our relationships grew up too. Thankfully, the days of fighting over who got to sit in the front seat or wear the shared long peach blouse from Dalmys came to an end. I started to want to hang out with my sisters. As we grew up, my sisters became my friends.

Shared Story

There is nothing quite like sharing a history with someone. And no one has shared more of my life experiences than my sisters. We’ve developed a kind of memory short-hand. No one else would remember the sound our roller skates made whirring over the low-pile family room carpet as we zipped around listening to Supertramp. Few others would link the sweet summer smell of Osoyoos with memories of waterfights and crib games at the annual Father-Daughter weekend at Walt Scott’s cabin on the lake. Only my sisters and I would know what it was like to be a kid in our house on Christmas morning the year our soundtrack wasn’t Nat King Cole but Stevie Wonder’s Songs in the Key of Life.

My sisters and I have been blessed with a great family, and over the years we’ve shared many joyful times. We have fun together. In addition to being smart and beautiful (inside and out), my sisters are hilariously funny. The giggle fits that can ignite when the three of us get together are of epic proportions.

Together

And when life has been hard, we’ve faced it together. After a hospital visit to see our dear Grandma Dot one night, when we knew that she likely didn’t have much time left, none of us wanted to go home alone. We decided to have a sleepover, dragging mattresses for the three of us onto the living room floor so that not even a wall would separate us. When the phone rang at 5am and we were told that Grandma had taken her last breath, it was a comfort to be together in our sorrow.

When the news that our parents were splitting up sent us reeling, we banded together and became a support group of three. I still clearly recall having coffee together in White Rock on one of those rocky, tearful mornings when it felt like our world had been tipped upside down and would never be righted. My younger sister said with gravity and conviction: “No matter what, we will always have each other.”

It makes me cry to write these words now. Yes, that was a rough time, but I’m glad to report that my family did eventually right itself and saw the addition of great step-parents and step-siblings. My tears are more inspired by the sentiment behind my sister’s words. It is profoundly moving to know that as we travel on the bumpy road of life, with its glorious highs and its heartbreaking lows, my sisters and I have each other.

Heartlines

I recognize that not everyone has a sister, and that not all sisters are close. Sometimes the connection we share with our friends makes them feel even closer than family, like sisters we got to hand-pick for ourselves. To me, sisterhood isn’t so much about bloodlines as it is about heartlines. Whether related or not, life is just better when we have sisters by our side.

Back in my English Literature days at university, I wrote a paper on Christina Rossetti’s narrative poem Goblin Market. She ended that piece with these words, which, over 150 years later, still pack a punch:

“For there is no friend like a sister
In calm or stormy weather;
To cheer one on the tedious way,
To fetch one if one goes astray,
To lift one if one totters down,
To strengthen whilst one stands.”

There really is no friend like a sister. When God gave me sisters, he blessed me with built-in best friends.

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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.

TGIF: Are You There, World? It’s Me, Tina. Without Makeup.

On Angelina Jolie’s leg, posing for Facebook pictures and exposing the “real me.”

by Tina Francis | Twitter: @teenbug
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It’s been an AWESOME week to be a woman.

Apart from the insane media coverage of Angelina Jolie’s leg at the Oscars (epic low for humanity), I have enjoyed watching women stand up and stick it to The Man.

I want to take a quick minute to say:

Source: baubauhaus.com via Tina on Pinterest

Dear Angelina,

Haters gonna hate.

I’m so sorry about the spoofs, Twitter account, “Legbombing” Pinterest page, memes and TV shows making fun of your leg.

I say this sincerely and un-ironically: it must suck to wake up every morning and hear that your leg is on the cover of yet another newspaper, when women are being raped in Congo.

Ignore these bozos. Let one of them win an Academy Award, two Screen Actors Guild Awards, three Golden Globe Awards and be named Hollywood’s highest-paid actress by Forbes; then they can talk.

Love you girl,
Teen
__________

Coming back to task at hand …

Women were such rockstars this week. They are:

1. Speaking up.
   “Dear Oscar: Women Have Stories, Too“
2. Gathering allies.
   “Tumblr Takes Stand Against Eating Disorder Blogs”
3. Standing up for each other.
   “Why We Should Stop Snarking On Angelina Jolie’s Thinness”
4. Embracing their imperfections.
   “Want to be happy? Stop trying to be perfect“
5. Telling the truth.
   “My Journey with Weight Control.”

The last link is a revealing ballsy piece, written by our very own SheLoves writer, Claire De Boer.

Here’s an excerpt from her article that made me choke on my afternoon apple:

“I can’t count the number of times I have sat around a table with girlfriends, a delicious selection of mouthwatering finger foods under our noses, and listened as most of us have justified our decision to eat or not eat the food.

I went for a run today.
I didn’t eat dinner, so I can indulge.
I’ve been good all week, so I deserve a night off.
I shouldn’t … I really need to lose a few pounds.

Whatever the response, so many of us are sitting around that table justifying our decision to eat or not eat. I have never heard the same conversation around a table of men.”

Mid February (coincidentally on my birthday), another SheLoves writer, powerhouse Sarah Bessey wrote, “For Shame or Freedom?” “Shame is insidious, ” she says, “because it can sound reasonable to our own ears, but it always ends in the same place: a prison.”

She goes on to say that as women:

“…we weave a banner of love as nouns and verbs to guard and protect,
to trail-blaze, for our mothers, our daughters:
you are beautiful, you have worth, you are valuable – NOW.
I love you, I see you, I hear you, my sister.

Facebook Me vs. Real Me

Sarah’s words, “I see you,” jumped out at me. I thought about how rarely, I let people see the real me. I hate being seen. I hate been photographed. Maybe I’m extra critical because I’m a photographer. If it’s not the right angle, the right light and the right posture, I want the earth to open up and swallow me whole.

This fear is magnified with the magic of Facebook. Anyone can upload and tag a nasty picture of me with a double-chin, back-fat, eyes closed and mouth wide open. Sure, I could “untag” myself from the picture, but I’ll always know that it’s still floating out there on the scary Internet.

Like most mortals, I’m guilty of putting up a cute but not too pose-y picture of myself as a profile picture, like so:

Please note, the flattering soft light coming from my window making me look like a cast member of “Touched by an Angel.” Truth be told, I often worry that people who I “meet” on the internet, will be disappointed when they meet me in person. Alas, I can’t bottle that gorgeous light to follow me around!

I read an article this week titled, “Almost Half Of Women Don’t Like Their Faces Unless They’re Spackled With Makeup.” Dude … that just makes me sad. Spackled?!

And hey, if this is what Supermodel Kate Moss looks like without makeup and Photoshop, then why do I give myself such a hard time?

If more of us women stopped hiding behind our staged “Perfect Profile Picture,” we could start to reverse the cycle of self-hate and fear, and run wildly into the arms of love and freedom.

Some of you might remember that my One Word for 2012 is “enough.” I’m learning that I am: strong enough, smart enough, brave enough, loved enough …[squirm] … even beautiful enough. Just as I am.

“We can’t look to the world to restore our worth; we’re here to restore our worth to the world. The world outside us can reflect our glory, but it cannot create it. It cannot crown us. Only God can crown us, and he already has.” — Marianne Williamson

In a moment of pure insanity I thought, if my beautiful friend Claire can be honest about how many times she has weighed herself, I can be honest about what I look like without makeup.

So this is the real me …
Glasses
Pimple on my cheek
Angry Vein on my forehead
Bags under my eyes
Ratty pajamas
No makeup.
No Photoshop.
No flattering angle.

BOOM.

And this is (round-faced) me, after I realized that this idea was totally crazy and I was going to regret it in the morning!

Guess what? It’s morning. And, I don’t regret it!

“A tulip doesn’t strive to impress anyone. It doesn’t struggle to be different than a rose. It doesn’t have to. It is different. And there’s room in the garden for every flower. You didn’t have to struggle to make your face different than anyone else’s on earth. It just is. You are unique because you were created that way.” — Marianne Williamson

______________________________

OH-OH-OH, I have a crazy idea!!!

Dear ones, I (lovingly) dare you to take a picture of yourself without makeup and:

a. Post it on our SheLoves Facebook page.
b. Share it on Twitter. You can copy/paste this tweet:
“Hey World! It’s Me, _____[insert name]. Without Makeup. #iamenough [insert picture] ”
c. Or “Pin it” on Pinterest. #iamenough

Gleep! I’m so excited. I would seriously love to see your beautiful faces, just as you are.

Together we can define a new standard for beauty; one that celebrates our curves, stretchmarks, scary veins, wrinkles and laugh lines.

Love you more than Ginger Grapefruit Curd,
xoxo,
Teen

To read more TGIFs from Tina: Click here.

______________________________________________________

My name is Tina. Loved ones call me: Teen.

Words are my chocolate. Music, my caramel. Photography, my bread. Girlfriends, my butter.

Confession: Some girls dream about Manolo Blahniks or their next Hermes bag. Not me. I dream of freshly baked bread, perfectly barbecued meat & steaming bowls of Pho. My dream lover *cue Mariah Carey song* is someone who would read out a menu to me in Barry White’s baritone voice.

I celebrate food, ask for help, interrupt conversations, laugh and cry hard, acknowledge the elephant in most rooms, fight for the underdog and believe in the power of storytelling.

My word for the year is “leap.” If something scares me, I do it.

I was born and raised in Dubai and currently live in the beautiful city of Vancouver, known for some of the best sushi in the world.

Wellness Wednesday: Why Hide? My Journey of Hope, Faith and Overcoming

By Kerstin Knaack | Twitter: @KerstinKnaack

” If I don’t share my life and the difficult journey I have made, it will be harder for God to work through me.”

I am ten weeks pregnant. It takes courage for me to tell you that.

Why? This is my fourth pregnancy–my first three babies are in heaven.

I am from Germany. There, we don’t usually tell people we are pregnant until the fourth month of pregnancy. But several weeks ago, I went to Brazil and found out the women there announce their pregnancies as soon as they have a positive test in their hands. I asked why they do this, considering most miscarriages occur within the first three months. They said that in their culture, they celebrate and mourn together. If something happens to the baby, they come to the mother’s side, offering everything from a big hug to cooking for her or massaging her feet. Whatever she needs, they journey with her.

Loss

My first miscarriage was in 2009 in the eighth week; the second was in 2011 in the 33rd week and the third was at the end of 2011 in the 12th week. All these losses were difficult, but to give birth to a dead baby in the ninth month of pregnancy was definitely the most painful.

After the third miscarriage, I wasn’t able to pray or worship. My heart ached, but I had good friends who carried me through. When I was far from God, they spoke life and truth over me. My church gathered around and carried me. When I couldn’t pray, they prayed for me; when I couldn’t worship, they worshiped for me.

I knew that death doesn’t come from God — He is love and nothing bad comes from him—but He did allow this to happen.

Restoration

After several weeks, I reached a place where I was able to think about my situation in a different way. If God allowed this to happen, there must be something good within these situations. This was a turning point for me—I wanted to turn bad into good. It was a decision, not a feeling. I chose to no longer accept being bound by lies.

So many good things happened as a result of my miscarriages:

- my marriage to my husband Rainer became stronger and we decided to give 100 percent of our lives to God, stepping into His purpose for us

- the opportunity developed to do an internship at Relate Church, Canada, with Pastors John and Helen Burns

- my father returned to my life after 28 years of rejection

- friends put their lives into Jesus’ hands.

Overcoming

From now on, I will no longer hide. I have discovered that it is healthy for me to talk about how I feel and which thoughts and emotions have kept me away from God. If I don’t share my life and the difficult journey I have made, it will be harder for God to work through me. I want Him to use me to help other women and to fulfill His plan.

That’s why I am openly telling people that I am pregnant for the fourth time.

Is it easy for me to enjoy my pregnancy? Definitely not. Every day I am reminded of the past, the positive pregnancy tests; pictures of my big belly; the ultrasounds; the decorated nursery; the movements in my belly; memories of the day I was told our daughter had passed away; the pain of giving birth to a dead baby and the joy of having her in our arms;  Rainer’s love letter to our new daughter; the invoice from the funeral parlor.

Stepping Forward in Faith

How do I deal with these images and the daily fear of possibly having the same pain again? There is no magic solution–it’s a journey every day. I think back to those Brazilian women, who understand what sisterhood means and I know that if I fall, my sisterhood will carry me. And I talk about it. If I am overwhelmed by fear, I ask my husband or a friend to help me.

The opposite of fear is faith. God holds my life in His hands. I trust Him.

________________________________________________

 About Kerstin

Kerstin Knaack was born and raised in the city of Kirchheim, Germany. She and her husband Rainer are currently involved in an internship at Relate Church in Surrey, BC, where they are learning to be leaders and teachers in the area of  marriage, family and sexuality.  Their long-term vision is to teach on these topics and to raise a large family of their own.

A Love Letter to my Sisters

On Valentine’s Day and for every day.

For my sisters in Berlin and Bubanza, Taipei and Toronto. For my sisters on facebook and twitter, email and pinterest. For my sisters at Christmas and my sisters on couches. For my sisters in cars and cafes. For the sisters I have met and for those whose stories I have only ever carried in my heart … With Love xo

By Idelette McVicker | Twitter: @idelette

My dear Sister,

I want to be birthed with you

From this big belly of

Sisterhood.

I want to be birthed with you

into our most beautiful, imagined

mirror

of Heaven’s Glory.

I want to be birthed with you

our heads held high

our faces lifted

and shining,

speaking the language of

Dignity, Freedom, Worth.

I want to be birthed with you

So we may belt out the

full range of our voices,

giving expression to the north and south octaves of our lives.

O, imagine the beat

of our hearts together,

sounding a symphony of

Beauty and Grace.

Speaking of Grace,

our beloved sister,

who opened up

the dark closet of

her story and allowed us in.

Then, as we held her precious in the Light and loved off the shame—

she, too, was birthed

into the runner and singer and proclaimer

she had always been.

I want to be birthed with you

So together

we may stand and assist

push and pray

lean in and loosen

one more woman,

into the Light of

her Freedom.

I want to be birthed with you

from this womb made for Goodness and Abundance—

where aches and laughs and hugs grow and bear fruit in our together garden.

Carrying and praying each others’ stories from here to there

and to the ends of the earth.

I want to be birthed with you,

As you birth me.

Together, we are a story that Love makes.

_______________________________

Please consider giving an ID card to our sisters in Bubanza this Valentine’s Day. You can read the original post here.

PURCHASE AN ID CARD HERE:

Please ENTER THE AMOUNT $ you want to donate into the white box HERE and then click “Donate”: 

IMPORTANT:
- Once inside the donation page, please select “No Shipping” and “No State/Province” to avoid extra charges.
- Relate Church is kindly processing the donations.
- Every cent of your donation is going towards identity cards for our sisters in Burundi.

Download this Valentine’s card as a PDF here  and print to give to your Valentine.

Please also SHARE this project with your world, because: 

- This Valentine’s Day, we want to give something that will last long after the roses have wilted and dried.
- This Valentine’s Day, we want to taste the sweet taste of Justice on our tongues.
- This Valentine’s Day, we ask for Dignity for our sisters in Bubanza.

Thank you so much–no, really, thank you–for doing your part, so together we can make a difference.

_____________________________________________________

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
________________________________

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.

______________________________________

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?

_________________________________

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

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.

______________________________________________

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.

____________________________________________________

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.

2011: A SheLoves Odyssey

“In 2011, we were invited to get up, grow up and take our place in the Story.”

By Idelette McVicker | Twitter: @idelette

_____________________________________

In 2011 (depending on the accuracy of my Math), we published 317 posts. These,  plus the thousands of words, comments, shares, tweets, tears and laughs that accompanied them, framed our SheLoves Story in 2011.

“We have a pulse!”

There was a moment February this year, when Tina wrote these words on my facebook wall: “We have a pulse!” That sentence marked a moment in our SheLoves story. With every post and share after that, our pulse became stronger and more rhythmic. By May, we proclaimed the words to the Manifesto: Let Us Be Women Who Love together at LifeWomen conference and in September, we were up and (literally) running on behalf of others.

This year, we cheered Brandi-Lee on as she spearheaded an idea to gather baby formula for the poor in our city. We bought and sold Christmas cards with Daniela to give to famine relief in Africa and a whole tribe (38 women + Josh) joined with our TGIF Tina Francis, when she decided to run a half-marathon for our sisters in Northern Uganda. Together we ran, prayed, gave and eventually raised over $43,600.

It’s been a B.I.G. year.

In 2011,

-We got angry alongside Trisha Baptie at Hype and Misinformation around Human Trafficking and bought Danielle Hardy’s wall decals to aid children sold into slavery.

- We embraced a lifestyle of Downward Mobility, under the loving guidance of Kathy Escobar.

- We explored new books and waxed nostalgic over favourite old ones, with Destiny Loeve.

- We stopped going to the gym and decided to stop eating hot fudge sundaes and become hot fudge sundaes, instead:

“I wanted my life to be a story that was so riveting, so grand, so epic, you couldn’t put the book down.” –Tina Francis

 In 2011, we were invited to get up, grow up and take our place in the Story.

- We watched dictators topple with Kelley Johnson-Nikondeha as she pondered these modern-day Pharaohs and wrote:

“We are invited to be Moses–standing at the burning bush and accepting a divine summons to advocate for justice in the face of Pharaoh.”–From: ShePonders: Pharaoh, Gaddafi, Dictators and Other Bullies, by Kelley Johnson Nikondeha

- Stephanie Motz Skinner paid attention to the anger in her heart around the issue of Maternal Mortality and wrote: The Thing That Makes Me Angry Now. She quoted Sarah Styles Bessey:

“If something makes you angry–an injustice, in particular–that is as good as an engraved invitation to do something about it.”–Sarah Styles Bessey

So, in 2o11, our tribe did a lot of somethings.

-In 2011, we risked and changed the world.

In 2011, we questioned the status quo:

• TGIF: Why is Beyonce Giving Me Mixed Signals? by Tina Francis
• Four Tomatoes or a Bag of Chips? On judgments, assumptions, ideals of beauty and building my sense of self on a Rock, by Trisha Baptie
• Owning Privilege: On Jesus, privilege and a Porsche, by Trisha Baptie
• World AIDS Day: Change Begins with my Whisper, by Idelette McVicker

_____________________________________

In 2011, we healed a little more:

• Making a Drum: Healing and Wisdom from Metis Hands, by Kisa MacDonald

_____________________________________

In 2011, we learned about amazing women:

- Kamal Dhillon: Even through a Tight, Painful Jaw, Kamal is a Woman who Speaks Peace, by Idelette McVicker

- Clothes on Wheels: Making a Connection in the Community, by Christiana Walter

- MaryAnne Connor: The Woman Behind the Nighshift Story, by Christiana Walter
_____________________________________

-In 2011, we grew in relationship and purpose:

- 1 Corinthians 13: A Parent’s Paraphrase, by Angela Doel

- Down We Go: The Power of the Beatitudes, by Kathy Escobar

- Tales from the Trenches: On Being a “Good Enough” Mother, by Sabrina Connell

- When Friends Become Family, by Stefanie Thomas

- On Unforgiveness and Losing a Friend, by Winnie Lui

- Exposing the Myth of Balance, by Danielle Strickland

- With These Three Stones, by Amelia Englemark

- An Apology to Myself, by Natasha Files

_____________________________________

- In 2011, we shared stories.

- This is Rebecca: Of Love, Marriage and Mercy, by Musu Taylor-Lewis

- TGIF: On Turning 29, by Tina Francis

- On a Midnight Escape and Starting a New Life in Canada, by Njoki Mbui

- What is was like Growing up White under Apartheid: Or Why I Care about a World in Flames, by Idelette McVicker

- The Day I Discovered a Marathon Inside Me, by Ali Valdez

- My Christmas Miracle: On Friendship, Faith and Fertility, by Daniela Schwartz

- Every Woman is a Woman of Worth, by Stacy Wiebe

- A Vet for Very Small Fish: A Little Boy’s Prayer, a Tiny Fish and Fighting the Urge to Bargain with God, by Shekinah Jacob

- Enough Hair for a Ponytail, by Vera Raposo

- The Importance of Moulding my Putty, by Claire De Boer

__________________________________________

-In 2011, we woke up and mobilized.

• TGIF: ‘Cause I Gotta Have Faith-a-Faith-a-Faith …, by Tina Francis
• SheLoves Christmas Card Project for Famine Relief in East Africa, by Daniela Schwartz

• What One Girl and Her Decals Can Do, by Danielle Hardy
• Becoming a Woman Who Does the Necessary Things, by Brandi-Lee Doucette

______________________________________

- In 2011, many of us discovered:

We have a voice.

- In 2011, we were drawn into a higher Sisterhood–learning and becoming women, sisters, friends who call out the best in each other. Women who cheer each other one. Women who propel each other forward.

A Global Tribe

When I visited Serbia in the summer, Tabitha, a new Serbian friend, translated our SheLoves Manifesto into her language. As she read it to us in a small room chockful of about 60 women, tears welled up in her eyes. The air felt so thick with possibility of what we could do and be, as women, when we live out of this vision of Love. In that moment, I knew this idea of a Sisterhood that embodies Love, transcended our geographical borders and human boundaries.

We also know it’s a Love that flows from hearts connected to a loving God.

__________________________________

As this Story unfolds, here are some of the words

that helped frame our vision of Sisterhood this year:

- “Can we messiah one another–propelling each other into the larger salvation story of which we all have a part to play?” -From: ShePonders: Another Anointing, by Kelley Johnson-Nikondeha

- “Let us be Mary and Elizabeth for each other, calling out new, brave worlds in each other. “ - RELATE with Helen: Divinely Connected Women, by Helen Burns

- “This, the dark midnight times, are the hours of the mothers.”–From: The Smallest Things, by Sarah Styles Bessey

-”Let us be women who Love.

Let us be women willing to lay down our sword words, our sharp looks, our ignorant silence and towering stance and fill the earth now with extravagant Love.

Let us be women who Love.

Let us be women who make room.

Let us be women who open our arms and invite others into an honest, spacious, glorious embrace.” –From: SheLoves Manifesto: Let Us Be Women Who Love, by Idelette McVicker

- “I remind myself that nobody is in this battle alone and that the only way to break down these towering walls of injustice is to focus on the brick in front of me.”-From:  Avoid Paralysis, Confront the Brick, by Stephanie Motz Skinner

- “We must let our light shine through the cracks. Step into the light and let people see what a real God woman looks like.” From: The Women We Are, by Christina Crook

“… authentic transformational relationships cannot be built upon power or inequality.” From: Down We Go: Why Prepositions Matter, by Kathy Escobar

- “When it comes to doing our part, every drop helps.” From: Tossing Buckets, by Shelagh Hardern

- “She didn’t need to hear my words, she needed to feel my presence. And in more ways than she would ever know, I needed to feel hers.” Erin in Iraq: Learning the Language of Presence, by Erin Wilson

“I think being the change starts where I am and with those in my life.” From: Being the Change Starts at Home, by Stephanie Motz Skinner

“Sometimes we need to see our story through the eyes of someone else. A Soul-Sista can help you find the common thread running through all your stories and you can do the same for her. We all need someone checking our blind-spots, tracking our journey and keeping us on course. What makes a Soul-sista different from a Sista-friend is that she is speaking your soul’s secret alien dialect.

This is the girl that will stay up late at night to help you draw out the maps, outline your strategy and plot out your plan to take over the world.” -From: TGIF: Sista-Friend vs Soul-Sista, by Tina Francis

-“God gives sustainable strength to the powerless.” –From: ShePonders: Renewable Energy, by Kelley Johnson-Nikondeha

- “I am completely captivated by the beauty of TOGETHER–a magnificent, harmonious symphony with Jesus being the center of it all.” -From: The Beauty of Together, by Helen Burns

So:

anointing each other + being the change right where I am + doing my part  + Jesus + sisters + presence + mothering + piercing the dark hours + equality +Hope + rising + facing my bricks  + leap + rise + nurture + listen + facing our fears + harmony + pray +work + together = Sisterhood.

In 2011, we saw glimpses of a new and different world that is entirely possible.

In 2011, I believe, we became Women Who Love.

______________________

A very big thank you to every one of you who helps to write this Story daily.

And a big thank You to the Creator of the Universe, who breathes Love into my being–and ours–

and imagined this Story even before we began.

________________________________________________

My dear SheLoves sisters and friends, we’d love to hear:

• What posts, comments or quotes stand out for you from this year?
• What were some of your favourite posts?

____________________________________________________

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.