all the things I haven’t said

It’s been a little while since I’ve written here.
It’s been a long past few months.
And finally, my voice is waking up.

I have some things to say.

Sometimes we have to print retractions.

I need to print the opposite of a retraction.

What is the opposite of a retraction?
A proclamation. An acknowledgement. A declaration.

These days I’m apologizing more for what I have not said than for what I have.

Sometimes I’m convinced God has the worst sense of humor ever.

“Here, let’s take the sweet-lookin thing. The gentle one.
The oversensitive, feels everything, been broken to here and back.
Let’s put fire in that one’s bones and make her loud.”

Or maybe, it isn’t humor. Maybe I’m just in touch with just how human and broken I am at this moment,

Wondering why I have SO MUCH to say…
the dam broke, apparently.

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I had my voice shut down and stolen for years by a lot of different things, and none of those things were God.

It’s hard being a woman.

If you’re born with fire shut up in your very bones, then you were made to make war, no matter your gender.

Temperature wise, people typically prefer cozy fires, not wild ones.

Understandable.

Culturally speaking, most places don’t like fiery women.

Aside from all the cultural issues surrounding women’, the core issue runs deeper.

There’s something absolutely terrifying about someone who appears soft and tender suddenly saying something with authority.

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I remember growing up, all the church ladies had “the Voice.”

For my Dune fans, the Bene Gesserit had nothing on this VOICE TM. These ladies had THE VOICE mastered long before Frank Herbert sat down to write about dystopian environmental issues.

I grew up in an environment where women were not allowed to speak about anything spiritual. I was 22 before I ever seriously prayed aloud in front of a man in a public setting.

Before that time, when I was 19, my charismatic friend had dragged me (somewhat willingly on my part) to a rogue house church, where everyone expected for me to also pray in front of other people. Somehow I managed, but I felt so bad and rebellious.

But by the time I was 22 and ran smack dab into God (the one who put the fire in my bones in the first place) I realized that my voice was wanted. And by 23, I realized that I had been given authority.

And it wasn’t really my authority, anyway.
It was given.

Authority isn’t really mine
it’s just mine to steward.

Along with my voice.

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See, women have a voice. It exists, permissions granted or not.

The most oppressive environment cannot quench THE VOICE because it will always exist, whether it is let loose or not.

I spent a lot of time blaming myself for my silence. I thought that my conditioning or wiring or something was just off about me.

What it was… I really grew afraid of the authority I knew I held.

It went something like this.

I’ve witnessed words destroying, building, and creating worlds.

And I’ve felt the fall out flack of speaking truth…

That wasn’t my truth.
It was

Truth that was given to me.
When you see the changing faces when you say something a little too
True…

It changes you, not just their faces.

Sometimes I’ve spoken with full understanding of what would follow
(Because too often, we are shown)
and sometimes its been completely inadvertent

Where an innocent word hit someone at the exact right wrong time.

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But really,
All the conditioning in the world can’t cause or cure fear of man.

It can only be replaced with the fear of God

Which is really, more simply said, “caring more about what God thought than what they said.”

People come and go.

If you’re a messenger,
Some people like to shoot the messenger.

I have the bullet hole scars.
But I make my face like flint.

No retractions, today.

Only words.

Friends.
Please join me in speaking
But lets only speak

Words which are given.

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In the spirit of speaking more, Mari Travels East is going on a weekly post sprint. 😅 Buckle up for a speaking summer!

There will also be a few fun things dropping over the summer, including some online courses I recorded in New Mexico.

If you’d like to buy me a coffee to keep all this creativity going 😅 please consider becoming a paid subscriber.

As always, feel free to forward to anyone you think might resonate.
Grateful for your presence.