"He has made everything beautiful in his time." Ecclesiastes 3:11
I praise God for how beautifully and wondefully he created woman. A dim yet spectacular reflection of him. A prism smudged with the dirt of this world, yet breaking out in a flash of color.
This world, long known for trampling, covering, and spitting on his prized possession has tried to mute us, hide us, and break us. But in God's economy, he drops the supposed wise on their heads and sides with us foolish things.
I praise God for my time and place: One of the best time and places a woman could have been born. Free to vote. Free to work. Free to live. Free to have an opinion. Free to voice an opinion. Free to be his voice in this world.
I praise God his mandates aren't sequestered to one sex, race, country, or sect. I praise God we women take part in ushering in his Kingdom. I praise God he's given us women talents not to hide but to spend. To spend ourselves for him.
I praise God for the female dynamos who kick this ugly world in its ugly head in his name. Dynamos like Menchit in the Philippines, who lovingly raises her children while being the voice that shouts out for little girls who are abused, trashed, and forgotten.
I praise God for the women, nameless to their country, who work and work and work each day to feed their babies. Who scrape potatoes out of the unfeeling ground. Who go door-to-door to do a manicure for a buck. Who don't know the luxury or concept of a stay-at-home mom. But who are fierce in their determination to love and protect.
I praise God for the women who stay at home and pour all their heart and love into their blessed quiver of children.
I praise God for the faithful women who go to work each day to manage, to speak, to fight, to free, to love, to lead.
I pray to God for the women, oh the millions of women, who have heard the lock of oppression click over their heads. Who are killed before they are born. Who are fed less in preference to their brothers. Who cannot work. Who cannot speak. Who cannot breathe but with permission. I pray to God for them.
I praise God for the women who don't fit into the mold. Who don't have what we've been told constitutes female success. A straight nose. A minivan. A size 4 pant. A child. A two-story in the burbs. A man.
I praise God for our differences, each displaying a diffferent facet of his glory, the worker, the stay-at-home, the bold, the meek, the mother, the single, the warrior, the nurturer.
I praise God for the women who for His glory, break out of the patterns and the chains this world forces over our heads and necks, to reveal the light he has placed in each one of us, who as we grow more like him do not become more like one another, but more and more disparate in the individual glory he has bestowed on our heads.
Who bravely run each day with their eyes fixed on Jesus, irrespective of anything but Him.