Dear Daughter of Eve,

You carry the seed of life in you. You are muscle and mind and heart. You walk with the calm of the hills. There is beauty in your gait, in the way you hold your shoulders, in your bending to hold a child close, in your rising for those who are mistreated.

You are womb-an. Woman. You create with every breath, and there is no shame in your sexuality, in your curves, in the way your heart beats for home and I long for you to be set free.

Free to love yourself the way your Creator does, the way your children do, the way your man does – the one who vowed till death do us part – and I long for you to embrace your wounds and your pain and then, let it all fly. Like one of those sparrows whom the Lord sees, let it fly.

(honored to be giving away four copies of Mom in the Mirror over HERE at (in)courage today; join me there for the rest of this post?)