I may be biased but I think this recent poem (by my wife) is brilliant.
Here’s to the ladies who couldn’t do it. Who didn’t manage to force themselves over the finish line.
Who, like me, hit the wall and something had to give. Trying with all your effort not to resign.
You talk about strong women, strong women juggling so many things. Important things
of work, of ministry, of cleaning sticky fingers and reassuring little ones that cling.
Calming fearful hearts and teaching times tables, and dropping off groceries, and
helping write CVs, and topping up our friend’s electricity meter fund.
We’ve become expert jugglers.
We can maintain a work call while cleaning up a toddler’s wee from the floor.
We can cut hair, make bread, home-school, Zoom call and clean like never before.
You can stress out, tear up and flat out hit the wall and no one will know.
Switch the video off, mute the sound, they’re all two meters away from you – it’s not like anyone is around.
What is the finish line we’re aiming for anyhow? When does it end? You think that a vaccine will
bring down the expectations of the world’s women and men?
Does my strength come from the steely self-will of no surrender? It comes from the mighty saviour
who broke the tape and made himself the centre.
You hit the wall but your wall is his fortress. He upholds and protects you. He won’t
ever forsake you. In your weakness, he more than compensates: He gives you hope.
You’ve learned the secret that the ‘strong woman’ missed. She persistently built her story,
But we know that the greatest things come from his glory.