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 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.