Meredith Miller

Friends, I’m gonna be in a book.  To be clear:  I’m not writing a book.  Far from it.

But my friend Sarah Joy is creating a book and she invited me to write one of the essays in it.

A latecomer to the project, I have about a week to craft an essay that I’m willing to share with the world about one word:  womanhood.

That’s the only prompt, the only guideline.  Write about it.

I have a draft.  It has no clear line of thought.  It’s a total mess.  And along the way, I rant.

Realizing this, I asked myself, why?  Well, I rant because I am mad at the ways people with more power than me have messed with people I care about.

I rant, for instance, on behalf of David Scholer, a powerhouse theologian who was also palpably gracious and kind.  (And who is very capable of ranting for himself and doesn’t need me one bit.)

Famous people with google-able names said terrible things about him because he supported us.  He supported us before hardly anyone else did.  And they should be ashamed, but instead, they are revered.

I rant.

I rant because so far, every women I’ve ever met with leadership gifts has had to figure out what that means for her life.  Know what I think?

It means lead.

In the end, I don’t think I will rant.  I hope not.

The final draft will hopefully come together with some degree of clarity and some sort of message that I hope offers encouragement in its own small way.  But for now, I rant.

Ranting aside, please tell me what you think.  No need to comment (or feel free!), but a Facebook meesage, or email, or coffee, if we live close by.  Doesn’t matter if you’re male or female, if you’ve given this a lot of thought or I just forced it on you right now.

Womanhood.

Go.