I am a woman. Over the years that term has come to be demeaned. To much of the world I am not valued. I am often treated worse than a slave and yet I am not considered to be worth as much as these prized assets.
Throughout the world it is o.k. for me to be abused. I am often misused for the sexual gratification of men with no thought taken to consider that I am a human being. I am slapped, punched and kicked. Sometimes I am stabbed, burned or chained up. Often I am killed or tortured in a horrible manner and no one knows.
My mind is constantly being bombarded with the fact that I am not good enough. The media says that I am not pretty if I don’t have a certain look or a certain weight. Therefore, I also abuse myself in order to please others. I get plastic surgery to change my face or body to conform to certain images. I shave, wax, tweeze, perm, color, and paint to achieve the “look”. Finally, I starve and exercise myself to death trying to obtain the ever-elusive appearance of beauty.
And yet no matter what I do it will never be good enough. The bombardment of negative mental pictures continues in all areas of my life. My children yell and say they don’t love me, or tell me I am not a good mom. My husband or boyfriend shouts at me because dinner was late, I spent too much money (trying to get the “look”), his shirts aren’t pressed just right, or I am not a proficient lover. My co-workers either hate me because I have achieved the “look” or not achieved it, can perform my job well or don’t know what I am doing, am a person of integrity or not. Then there is my boss who is constantly looking for something to say that pulls me down rather than build me up. Finally, society says I am a terrible mother if I work outside the home. However, the women who do work outside the home say I am worthless if I choose to stay at home with the children. Whatever I do it is never good enough.
I am a woman. I have been demeaned. I have no value. So society would have me to understand.
I am a woman. I have value. No one else knows it yet. Shhh! It’s a secret.

What kind of value? I am a helper. That is my designated role in creation. As such I have the ability to be anything that is needed at the time it is required.
I am a woman. I am a teacher, nurse, administrator, peacekeeper, music director, chauffeur, traffic cop, cook, seamstress, laundress, dishwasher, housekeeper, bookkeeper, gardener, mother, wife, friend, employee, boss, manager, activities director, travel agent, tour guide, concubine, lover, fashion consultant, personal assistant and all purpose glue. I fulfill several of these roles at one time in any given moment.
I am a woman. I am valuable. I am beautiful. I come in all shapes, sizes and colors. Each combination of size, shape and color makes me unique. Whether small or large, tall or short, with long hair or short hair, fashionable or unfashionable I am beautiful. My hair may be black, brown, red, blond, any shade in between or even gray with age. I may have blue, green, hazel, violet or even brown eyes. My skin may be olive, white as milk, tan, golden, dark brown or any of the tones in between yet I am still beautiful. In other words, no matter what my size, my age, my shape, my race or natural coloring I am uniquely beautiful.
I am a woman. I am your helper. What do you need me to be? Whatever it is I have the ability to be what you need at the time you need it. There are some things however I will not be. I am not your doormat. Nor am I your punching bag. I will not stand for verbal abuse. The media will not dictate to me the standard of beauty I must live up to in order to be accepted.
The surprising thing is that as I live out the reality of the knowledge of who I am, I finally achieve that quality of beauty I kept looking for through changing my outer appearance. Why? I know who I am. I have value. Armed with that knowledge I stand straighter almost regally. I carry myself with grace and a calm assurance of my personhood. An inner confidence in my abilities helps me to relate to others with self-assurance. I can risk fully loving because I now love myself enough to know what real love is and is not. As a result I am not afraid to lovingly let you know those times when you are not showing me love. My face softens as the strain of pleasing everyone else weakens. The sheer joy of just being me in all my uniqueness radiates from within leaving the mark of beauty that no make-up, hairstyle, clothing or plastic surgery can duplicate.
I am a woman. I know who I am and what I was created to be. As such I will no longer lie to myself nor will I accept your lies about me. I am one who gives assistance. I contribute to the well-being of mankind. I promote the success of humanity. I give relief to those in distress. I alleviate problems and cure what ails you. I improve the quality of life. I benefit the lives of everyone around me. I am able to prevent catastrophe from occurring and change the direction of the circumstances of life.
Why? Because I am a woman — taken from man — created to be his helper. I can be gentle and loving not out of weakness but out of great strength which I choose to control. I know who I am. Because I know who I am I can have a strong backbone and not be intimidating. I can apply the wisdom of this truth to all areas of my life. My relationships will be stronger, my work easier, and my life sweeter.
I am a woman. I am life. I am love. I am a woman.

The year was 1976 in the month of July. Our nation had just celebrated its bicentennial birthday on the fourth. All across the country people were rejoicing that we had freedom for 200 years. Backyard barbecues, firework shows, and symphony orchestras playing our patriotic songs were mainstays of the celebration. Our family was no different. We enjoyed my parents barbecue feast, swam in the pool, and hung out with our friends at the community playground. What a day it had been!

But today we were celebrating something else. It was my mom’s birthday. Her actual birthday had been last Sunday but only mom and dad had celebrated with a special dinner out. Today, Saturday the 24th the whole family was celebrating. Dad told us to get up and get dressed. We put on our nice casual clothes then went downstairs to consume pancakes, eggs, and bacon that mom and dad made together. We all piled in the car full of excitement.

After a couple hours journey we arrived at a large brick building with huge white letters on the front that spelled out NASA. I remembered those letters from the rocket launches I had seen on TV. I told the boys we were going to see spaceships. We did. We saw the Apollo 13 space capsule, wax figures of Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin, as well as lunar rovers. There were lots of exhibits to explore and interactive displays. We all enjoyed our trip there.

We left NASA and went to dinner. After a great meal we stopped at the store where mom and dad brought a surprise for us kids. The ride home seemed extra long because we could not wait to see what they had brought us.

When we arrived home. They gave us the bag. Inside was a skateboard! With cries of joy and happiness we ran off to show our prize to our friends. All of the boys and girls gathered around. We were the first kids in our neighborhood to get a skateboard. Everyone wanted a chance to ride it. Taking turns, we learned to ride that day but not without some bumps, scrapes, and falls. Fortunately there were no broken bones just lots of squeals of pleasure. Reluctantly we all went in as our parents called out for us to go home.

Unbeknownst to us, it would be the last time we would all play together as a huge group just having fun. The boys and I fought over who would take the skateboard to their room. I decided to let them have it because I loved them and wanted to let them have the joy of having it in their room. I am glad I did. They died that night in a fire that also burned up the skateboard. But I will forever have the joy of knowing how much we all loved that treasured gift and the fact that they got to have the joy of having it with them on their last night on earth.

Whenever life gets too heavy to handle I can go to the ocean and there find peace for my soul. Sometimes my life feels like someone took a deck of cards and threw them up in the air. The events in my life then seem to be determined by where the cards land.

One such time was during the nine months my mother was dying. I was working full time when she  fell ill. She lost her eyesight overnight and her ability to walk was diminished. The doctors diagnosed her with high blood pressure, high cholesterol, diabetes, and multiple sclerosis. As a result she was on 17 different medications.

I arose early every morning and woke her up to take her morning meds. Then I prepared her breakfast and lunch. I put out her medications based upon when she needed to take them and left her a couple of snacks to help her get through the day. Giving her a kiss and wishing her a good day I would head out the door to work. She insisted on staying home by herself and refused to let me bring someone in to sit with her. This was very stressful to me because I spent my days worrying about her.

After a full day of work I would head over to my daughter’s apartment to check on her. She was pregnant with my second grandchild and having a tough time carrying the baby. It took much prayer for her to carry him to full term. I would make sure that she was ok and see if she needed anything. Mostly I was there to reassure her that all would be well and to encourage her in her marriage.

Heading home I often prayed for strength to complete the day. Upon arriving home I would cook our meal, wash the dishes, and help mom shower when she wanted to do so. Then we would sit and watch TV until bedtime. Sometimes we would talk but most often she would doze while we watched TV.

There were many nights that she would get up to go to the bathroom and get stuck with her walker. She would lose patience with me because I would talk her out of the jam by telling her which way to turn the walker. She wanted me to just move the walker for her but I told her that it was best for me to talk her out of these situations because she was alone during the day and she needed to know how to get out by herself.

The only way I could often relax was to listen to the sounds of the ocean on a sound machine. I would do this every night during this stressful time. I even did this during times of prayer.

My grandson was born safe and sound in March. I felt particularly blessed to be there for his birth because I almost died of pneumonia in January myself.  His birth eased some of the stress but not the busyness. Now I was stopping by my daughter’s place so that I could visit my grandson for a few minutes each night.

My mom passed away in September. Before she did I had to battle with the hospital staff and the nursing home which did not care for her as I did.

One of the first things we did after a period of grieving was go to the beach. There standing beside the ocean and listening to the roaring waves I was reminded we are not alone. The God of the universe who created such an expansive body of water and controlled the crashing waves was still the Master of my life. When all those cards were floating in the air, He knew where each one was and where it would land. He gave me what I needed to handle each situation as it arose and He still does today.

Three months after my brothers died, we moved from Virginia to Michigan in order to have a fresh start. We left my friends, school, and extended family behind. Suddenly I was in a foreign world and I was lost. Compounding matters we all were devastated by the unexpected loss of my younger brothers and we each handled our grief in different ways.

My parents did not talk about the boys. Instead dad threw himself into his work. Mom busied herself with taking care of me when I was home and crying when I wasn’t. I found that I had a hard time making friends. The three of us kids had been inseparable, therefore we made friends together and we all hung out as a group. Now I had to figure out how to make friends on my own but this was not easy to do since my normally shy nature was now hampered with extreme grief.

We were not really a family anymore. Each of us was trapped in our own world of pain. Evenings were spent watching T.V. but not speaking to one another. Dinners were quiet. I wanted to talk about how I was feeling with them but they could not handle hearing the boys names or seeing their pictures much less talking about them. All the friends that knew them were now hundreds of miles away. There was no one to share what I was going through.

Then one day my dad brought home bikes for mom and I. They were to replace the ones lost in the fire that took the boys lives. I couldn’t believe the bike he got me. It was a 24″ tan beach cruiser. My first grown up bike. That bike changed everything. Mom and I went bike riding on a regular basis. We explored the beauty of Midland, Michigan daily. Although she still could not talk about the boys, mom was more present on those bike rides. Instead of being separate watching T.V. after school, we were sharing conversation as we rode the streets of town. We picked flowers, got ice cream from the ice cream truck, and chatted with neighbors. We laughed at the antics of the birds, enjoyed the sightings of various species of butterflies in the area, and stopped for animals as they crossed in front of us. We spent time loving each other. That is why a bike to me represents togetherness.