This is for all of my upside down women. The ones who are doing it all backwards believing it’ll shake down right. The ones investing in eternity and poking around in small lives day after day, and nobody makes a big deal about them because they live so hard for things to come.
Everything stored in eternity looks like empty and open hands here on earth, palms facing up like worship, always lifting up Christ, always lifting up others, always letting go of their own self and in that, finding exactly who God made them to be.
Some days it looks like you have nothing to show for it. But you are unique, gifted, brave.
This is for the women who find less of them more of Christ actually means He brings to life who they were always meant to be. This is for the women who know identity is something we step into and own, not something we create or manufacture.
This is for the ordinary girls with the faces they believe too plain, the body gone soft in the middle. This is for the women who believe that wondrous love makes everyone more beautiful and look at the world’s diversity as a thing to behold. You are created for glory to live in you, to shine from you, to point to your creator.
This is for the women who inspire me day after day with their ingenuity in making a budget last, making beauty in the midst of ordinary, who claim their place in the lineage of world changers by kissing boo boos and whispering prayers and lullabies into the fabric of their days. This is for the girls who punch a time clock, set chicken out to defrost at noon, and always stop in the middle of their Facebook scroll to say prayers because there are so many aching in this world.
And the round of applause passes right over these women. Always lifting open handed women, this one is for you. You’ve died a bit each day and the world looks on in wonder, and those are the good days, because they’re seeing you fiercely free coming alive.
But sometimes the world looks on in horror. Because how could you let go so wildly? How could you trust so freely that this world that never fit quite, was never meant to be home? How can you believe this world could offer you nothing worth holding on to? You are doing it upside down and backwards, walking in the footsteps of the things this world calls foolish.
But you don’t let it shake you, you were created for a new Kingdom.
This is for the gentle whispered prayers and the wailing lament alike. This is for the women who know their voice is heard in the heavens because it enters so often. It’s always seeking with quiet times in solitude when hands grip the warm coffee mug, or in the car pool lane or grocery store check out lane. You talk to God. He knows your voice well.
This is for the faithful, the obedient, the beloved, the overlooked. You are seen.
On Fridays we write. And sometimes it goes all over the place and we let it. We get messy and real and sometimes we cry and sometimes we laugh but we get it done week after week. We show up and write free. Five minutes on one prompt: this week is : Nothing. We silence the critic and the audience, we make peace with our mistakes and our word tense that goes in and out when we type fast. We don’t overthink or edit or make a fuss. We just believe words spilled are worth something even if they come out like madness. Join us? We’re at Lisa Jo’s, and we need your story.