It might be a cave.
Perhaps a pit,
A long, dusty hallway shrouded in deep shadow,
A door to a dark basement.
Whatever the shape
It will be dark.
Fears live best unseen.
You will be weary,
Tired to the bone.
Wobbling and weaving on shaking legs.
Fears feed on exhaustion
There will be reasons.
The whispering voices of experience and common sense.
Fears sound almost like truth.
Rest where you are,
In the tiny pool of light,
Listening to the whispers of reason.
Stride off into the dark woods,
Into the cave,
Down into the chasm,
Beyond the hill.
Daylight waits beyond the hill.
Stitch by stitch,
I’ve made my garment.
Stitch by stitch,
Layer by layer,
Armor made of fears,
Carefully gathered over a lifetime of hesitations.
Fear is wisdom paralyzed.
Stitch by stitch
Someone I respect saying things that are important.
Today, for International Women’s Day, I’m throwing my love for mud up on a shelf to talk about a broader and more impactful topic: being a young (female) professional in a STEM field. Yes, it can sometimes make you feel insignificant and powerless, but it can also spark up a fire of determination and sisterhood that will drive you to do great things.
As a young earth scientist, I have been told that I am not strong enough for the field work and that I should monitor what I wear so as not to tempt may male coworkers. At times I have thought of dropping out, not because I am not capable, but because I am often disrespected and objectified. But for those very reasons I have stayed in the field I love and am now surrounded by inspiring female senior scientists and extremely motivated, intelligent, and hardworking female…
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I saw a photo today
Of Mountains, dark in blues and blacks,
Edged and capped with streaming wisps of white clouds
Palms in the foreground
Dark silhouettes against the light.
It was beautiful.
I see images every day
Of beautiful places I may never visit.
Moments held by other souls,
I’ll share too.
I live among fields.
Changing through time and season.
Bordered by dark trees
That edge into quiet woods.
I live among old farmhouses
Falling into their age,
Crumbling old gas stations
On roads untraveled now,
And black rivers winding their slow way
Past deer and possum and wren
To the lowland coast.
I live among flat salt marshes
Of thick black pluff mud,
Beaches edged with sweet grass and black gum trees,
Dogwood and saw palmetto,
And sculptures of driftwood, shaped by sun and wave.
These are the pictures of my life,
Drenched in the past and the present,
Sprung from the deep soil that birthed my bones.
I hope you can see them.
I have wise friends.
John 13:16 “I tell you the truth, slaves are not greater than their master.Nor is the messenger more important than the one that sends the message.”
If Jesus calls us to do greater works than He did (I tell you the truth, anyone who believes in me will do the same works I have done, and even greater works, because I am going to be with the Father) how are we supposed to wrap our heads and hearts around the hard questions that lead us to spiritual tension within ourselves?
For us to be greater leaders, we must ask, how to be greater servants? For us to be greater servants we must be more compassionate.
How can I be more compassionate? We must need more intently.
Why would I want to need more intently? To share in the suffering that requires surrender… second by second, and that is done by realizing the world…
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