Sometimes a sacred space looks like fluorescent lights in place of stained glass, and school desks instead of pews.
I’m in a group of women that gathers in a children’s Sunday School classroom on Thursday mornings to talk about God and share our lives with each other. And let me just tell you about these women. Smart as hell, Jesus-loving, neighbor-caring, family-focused… Many are in the weeds of parenting. Some are in the throes or just the start of caregiving for their own parents. Some work outside the home. Some stay home full-time.
Their joy and celebrations.
I am here for it all. This is a special group, and not because there’s anything extraordinary about any of us. But there’s something powerful that happens when you share the nitty gritty. When you pass the tissues and then a few minutes later, someone passes them to you. When you let down the walls and then keep them down so the real work can begin. When the time ends and you walk back into your ordinary day, but the words that were shared and the tears that were shed stay on your mind and worm their way into your heart.
I don’t know how long my path will intersect with any or all of these women. But I do know my journey will look different forever because they crossed it.
“Vulnerability is hard, and it’s scary, and it feels dangerous. But it’s not as hard, scary or dangerous as getting to the end of our lives and having to ask ourselves what if I would have shown up. … Show up. Be seen. Answer the call to courage … because you’re worth it. You’re worth being brave.” Brene Brown