Dear Daughters – When I look at you I see the hope of the whole dang world. You are light + laughter + loveliness swirled into a feminine force field. You are Rahab and Ruth, Esther and Anna. You are the triumphant song of Mary’s magnificat and the jangle of Miriam’s tambourine. You come from a long line of fearfully and wonderfully made women. Your cloud of witnesses is great.
But my precious girls, the world will not often see you this way. It will tell you to tone it down, watch your mouth, and speak when spoken to. It will say your curves are too curvy and your hair too wild. You will be objectified, terrified, and should you, God in Heaven forbid, ever cry out #metoo, bona fide ignored.
The persistent widow’s blood runs through your veins, and your voice can not be taken. You belong to the Most High King and yours is the Kingdom. Raise your voices and your fists as a sweet aroma unto the Lord. He does not forget us, though the trials here are long and weary. Though things are not as they should be. Raise your voices and your fists. Be counted among those who stand with the last, the least, the lonely, and the lost. Raise your voices and your fists in power and in praise. Raise them, and when you are tired, let your sister hold you up.
Be fierce in love and bold in prayer. And always, remember your sisters, the two of you and the ones around the globe. Say their names until all the world hears. Remember, when they come for one of you, they come for all of you. Do not ever forget you are your sister’s keeper. Give a damn girls. Lots of damns. More damns than anyone.