There was the day the voices came for me and they carried in their whispers the ancient shame, their tongues curled into my ears, trailing me through my day. They hissed that God couldn’t have said I was good. They implied that maybe, like so many things, I had gotten this wrong, too. And they were always there with reminders of the ways I’m damaged goods.
Continue Reading over at She Loves.
A little love note on sisterhood
Today when I opened the front door after a frustrating day at the spine surgeon’s office and helped my broken mom up the stairs one inch at a time, I smelled the crockpot dinner lovingly made for us by the sisterhood. I got messages from women who spoke hope and life and offered to kick the mean doctor in the kneecaps for me if need be. I got prayers for my mom’s healing and for my strength as I care for her and offers for so much more.
I got the sweet blessing to be released from a retreat I had agreed to speak at this weekend with no obligations besides knowing I am loved and prayed for. I love the sisterhood of women meeting at The Well this weekend.
I am so grateful for these sisters in my life.
You know who you are. You’re helping me breath today.
To read the rest of my She Loves post you can click here—>Sisterhood is Becoming