Tuesday, May 22, 2018

God as Midwife (remixed)

A few years ago my friend Adriel encouraged me to write in her blog series on the Mother heart of God.  I republished it last week with a few edits over at The She Is Project.  If you've ever resonated with the sentence below then you might appreciate this piece.

I could deeply love the Bible and be committed to all the truth it brings but as I read it, I sensed that there were revelations of God’s character that were lost because it was the patriarchs that wrote the text, not the matriarchs.
God as Midwife

xo becca  

Wednesday, May 9, 2018

the demands of hope (a poem)

sometimes hope grows quietly inside of you.
she wriggles, does a few flips,
let’s you know she’s there.

she’s small but she’s alive.

sometimes hope expands
what you thought was the shape,
the tone,
the weight of who you are in the world,
and you realise you are even more.

sometimes hope brings an ache
that is in the bottom of your bones,
all the way deeper than your bones,
an ache that might come
from the very womb of God.

somehow it found its way to your body,
your lower back, your hips, your heart.

when the time finally comes,
(and it will)
hope is born
into this dangerous and magnificent world.

the demands of this process
will threaten your very existence
but no one else can do this for you,
no one else carries this one.

only you.

and when the pain has been much too much
and you are ready to lay down in your grave —

she is delivered.

screaming, naked, covered in grace,
right into your arms.


and the world will never be the same.


Wednesday, February 14, 2018

Here's to Ash Wednesday and being alive again.


It's been a while.  The years since I've written anything for this space have been extremely dark and painful for me, with hope managing to wiggle her way into the aches no matter how deep. I recently shared my story with a friend over at The She Is Project  and when my husband shared it on Facebook I realised a lot of friends wouldn't know my journey with mental illness, particularly in the past two years.  I should have realised that when all I wanted to write about was my trauma and how it affected me that there was probably a need to pursue healing.  It's amazing what we can't know about ourselves sometimes, how a diagnosis can free you to see yourself in a much kinder way.

Sending love to you wherever you are reading this.  Maybe we all see ourselves in much kinder ways.

Here's to Ash Wednesday and being alive again.

"Out of the Dust - becca's Story"