Women Are Wombs

What makes a woman is not how she wears her hair or what kind of skirt she wears or doesn’t.  It’s not if she has a husband or even wants one, not if she likes makeup or her feminine name.  It’s not if she plays sports or does not, not if submits to others or not, not if she runs a house or a company or barely just her own heart.

What makes a woman is not how she behaves or doesn’t.

It’s not how she feels or does not. 

What makes a woman is what she carries.   

What makes a woman is her womb.

No even how she carries it, what she carries inside of it or not, or for how long. 

But that she in fact, does. 

What makes a woman is a sacred part of who she is.   A woman is a womb.

She has one, she is one.   Whatever she ever carries, what she carries brings something to life.

In her womb, both physical and in the seat of her soul, she can carry things and ideas and people. 

She can nurture them from within and bring them into being.  Perhaps the most interesting thing about that is, sometime, or maybe most times, she has no idea what it is that she really carries.   

Until well after it’s lost or years after it’s birth and continuous unfolding. 

There are people we birth and get to know for a lifetime- theirs or ours. 

There are ideas we may carry for years and birth only to what appears to be a cacophony of silence.  There are restless dreams that we wrestle with, hopes we dash upon, seeds we grasp.   In our strength, or theirs, sometimes we come to bear a thing.  Unexpected or not.  A promise, maybe, a threat. 

And we don’t know the shape of its face, the thrill of its laugh, the echo of its days.  No, not yet.

Not the tears that we’ll cry or others may too.  Not the push or the pull of destiny, not theirs or ours. 

We don’t know fully what we bear.  Never while we bear the weight of it, not the fullness of it, no matter how heavy.  Never while we bear the weight of its beginning and growing and birth.  Its awkward way it has of expanding us.   

But oh what a privilege it is to in fact carry it, to hold it. (Even if we are honest, here is where we bow but don’t break, under the weight of its coming.)

Long before we’ll ever know the breadth of its growth or the grace of its frame or the fire in it bones.  The sheer joy and beauty of being able to hear, its song in voice.  

No, we cannot imagine any of that.  But when we see it or feel it or hear it, even in just a part, it takes our breath away. 

More than all of the ways its weight took our breath and slowed us down, when we couldn’t even imagine what it would ever become. This one takes our breath away in a way that brings us life., and hope. Others too.

That is why women and wombs are amazing. 

When she is open and intimate- with God especially- she will be, she will become, and she will give birth to, more than she could ever imagine or dream. She will give birth to what is, already, HIS.