I'm with her.
She who wrote the stars into the sky and whispered the waves into the crashing sea.
Her goodness and mercy follow us all the days of our lives.
Her love wraps around us like a Mother's embrace even into the valley of the shadow of death, she never lets go.
Her rage is for the brokenhearted-tossed aside-lonely-weeping-poor-bombed-assaulted-battered-bruised-left out-ignored-weary ones. She battles for them with the fire every Mama feels burning in her bones.
I'm with her whose wisdom is ancient and mercies new every morning.
I'm with her whose song is redemption.
I'm with she who knows the end of the story and writes it into every chapter: resurrection.
I'm with her whose power is sacrifice and offering and tenderness and fierce gentleness.
I'm with her. And I can hear her calling. She whispers but she's relentless. She asks us to rise again and fight for the least of these once more. She begs us to remember that the story isn't over. She calls us her children and she asks us to spread the word.
Breathe on us, Mother of all living things, may your breath fill our lungs. May our fire be your spirit. May we sing your redemption song and rise victoriously all of our days. Amen.