WOMEN OF INSPIRATION
Creator of all who live and move
and have reflected being,
we
thank You for the Universe
so
securely wrapped around us,
for Earth which is our garden of life
and for all its living creatures.
How blessed we are
to be born into such a variety
and beauty
and to know
precisely what it means
to be fully,
freely human.
We thank You
for ourselves
and
a need to give ourselves
to others.
May we never refuse the responsibility
to take life
in our hands
and
seek to understand its meaning
which comes
from You
and
remains in You,
Creator of
all the living.
Amen.
THE POWER OF A WOMAN
The power of a woman lies within her heart;
within her capacity to touch others with her love,
and within the quiet resources of her soul.
The power of a woman ~~just one woman~~
can lighten the burden of one who is suffering
or stir the hearts of millions and change the world.
Just one woman can make a difference
when she believes in her powers and make an effort to use them.
Within each woman is the power to give joy to others
to live her dreams and to love with all her heart.
This kind of power kindles hope, inspires faith,
and keeps the spirit alive within all of us.
The power of a woman is in her inner strength and character
and the sum of who she is as an individual;
it is her values and the ways in which she expresses those values.
It is also in the way she perceives herself in the world;
how she carries herself, responds to others, and conducts her life.
Others will always be drawn to the woman
who is certain of who she is.
who is unafraid to freely express her true nature,
this is the power of a woman.
~Thank you Kim~
The Girl I Used To Be
She came tonight as I sat alone..
The girl I used to be....
And she gazed at me with her earnest eye
And questioned reproachfully:
Have you forgotten the many plans
And hopes I had for you?
The great career, the splendid fame,
all the wonderful things to do?
Where is the mansion of stately height
With all its gardens rare?
The silken robes that I dreamed for you
And the jewels in your hair?
And as she spoke, I was very sad
For I wanted her pleased with me...
This slender girl from the shadowy past
The girl that I used to be.
So gently rising, I took her hand
And guided her up the stairs
Where peacefully sleeping, my babies lay
Innocent, sweet, and fair.
And I told her that these are my only gems,
And precious they are to me;
That silken robes is my motherhood
Of costly simplicity.
And my mansion of stately height is love,
And the only career I know
Is serving each day in these sheltered walls
For the dear ones who come and go
And as I spoke to my shadowy guest,
She smiled through her tears at me.
And I saw the woman that I am now
Pleased the girl I used to be.
MOTHERHOOD -
IT WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE....
We are sitting at lunch when she casually mentions
that she and her husband
are thinking of "starting a family."
"We're taking a survey," she says, half joking.
"Do you think I should have a baby?"
"It will change your life,"
I say carefully, keeping my tone neutral.
"I know," she says,
"no more sleeping in on the weekend,
no more spontaneous vacations..."
But that is not what I meant at all.
I look at my friend,
trying to decide what to tell her.
I want her to know what she will never
learn in child birth classes.
I want to tell her that the physical wounds
of child bearing heal,
but that becoming a mother
will leave her with an emotional wound so
raw that she will be forever vulnerable.
I consider warning her
that she will never read a newspaper again
without asking "What if that had been MY child?"
That every plane crash, every fire will haunt her.
That when she sees pictures of starving children,
she will wonder if anything could be worse
than watching your child die.
I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit
and think that no matter how sophisticated she is,
becoming a mother will reduce her to the
primitive level of a bear protecting her cub.
That an urgent call of "Mom!"
will cause her to drop a souffle
or her best crystal without a moment's hesitation.
I feel I should warn her that no matter how many
years she has invested in her career,
she will be professionally derailed by motherhood.
She might arrange for child care,
and she will think about her baby's sweet smell.
She will have to use every ounce of her discipline
to keep from running home,
just to make sure her baby is all right.
I want my friend to know that everyday decisions
will no longer be routine.
That a five year old boy's desire to go to the men's room
rather than the women's at McDonald's
will become a major dilemma.
That right there, in the midst of clattering trays
and screaming children, issues of independence
and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect
that a child molester may be lurking in that restroom.
However decisive she may be at the office,
she will second-guess herself constantly as a mother.
Looking at my friend,
I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds
of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about herself.
That her life, now so important,
will be of less value to her once she has a child.
That she would give it up in a moment to save her offspring,
but will also begin to hope for more years not to accomplish
her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish theirs.
I want her to know that a cesarean scar or
shiny stretch marks will become badges of honor.
My friend's relationship with her husband will change,
but not in the ways she thinks.
I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man
who is always careful to powder the baby
or never hesitates to play with his child.
I think she should know that she will fall in love with him
again for reasons she would now find very unromantic.
I wish my friend could sense the bond she'll feel whth women
throughout history who have tried desperately
to stop war and prejudice and drunk driving.
I hope she will understand why I can think rationally
about most issues, but become temporarily insane when
I discuss the threat of nuclear war to my children's future.
I want to describe to my friend the exhilaration
of seeing your child learn to ride a bike.
I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby
who is touching the soft fur
of a dog or cat for the first time.
I want her to taste the joy that is so real, it actually hurts.
My friend's quizzical look makes me realize
that tears have formed in my eyes.
"You'll never regret it," I say finally.
Then I reach across the table, squeeze my friend's hand,
and offer a silent prayer for her, and for me,
and for all of the mere mortal women who stumble
their way into this most wonderful of callings.
The blessed gift of being a Mother.
~Thank you Judith~
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