Women at War.
(men, I love you and this encouragement applies as it fits.)
We are the Watch Women Ezekiel writes of in chapter 33.
Ezekiel, chapter 33 states, “Once again a message came to me from the Lord: 2 “Son of man, give your people this message: ‘When I bring an army against a country, the people of that land choose one of their own to be a watchman. 3 When the watchman sees the enemy coming, he sounds the alarm to warn the people. 4 Then if those who hear the alarm refuse to take action, it is their own fault if they die. 5 They heard the alarm but ignored it, so the responsibility is theirs. If they had listened to the warning, they could have saved their lives. 6 But if the watchman sees the enemy coming and doesn’t sound the alarm to warn the people, he is responsible for their captivity. They will die in their sins, but I will hold the watchman responsible for their deaths.’”
Where have the watch men been?
Sometimes I wonder if we have been taken captive, or put to sleep.
If I was in a daze before, I am less so now. My eyes are open. God is on time.
Now sitting in our homes, or in our workplaces, we are called to war as Watch Women. Some reports on COVID-19 say men are 2x more likely to be fatalities of this virus. Women’s bodies know the shifts, changes, and attuning to society in unique ways. We carry generations of genetic markers in our DNA that trigger our bodies to intuit and respond to trauma and emergency. My experience is very similar to other women, in that I balance work, study, life, children, and hold the emotional well-being of so many in my care right now.
It’s not all amazing, or a blessing to carry what we carry, but I believe it can be used in this time for good.
As the “shelter-in-place” directives go out, not all of us are at home, thank God. Because, we need the ones that are out, to be out. Whether they are the grocery workers, nurses, doctors, scientists, educators, senators, or agricultural laborers, they are watching. Others are at home, homeschooling kids, working, and maintaining sanity. Together, we are watching – uniquely placed.
First, it was graduate classes suspended, then moved online. Next, my children sent home for 6 weeks. Finally, my husband is on “stand-by” unemployment.
In the fray, I have torn my insides apart to try to formulate plans, and rectify scenarios to combat the unknown of every minute, hour, day. I have been still. But, I have not been listening.
Two days ago, my eyes, heavy, I relented. I lie on my bed for 10 minutes. I removed my glasses, set my phone aside. In the stillness, I heard the rattling – a smacking of my nerves against one another.
I told myself, No, I cannot control the kids, even when I try for a schedule. No, I cannot plan for a sudden, indefinite loss of our main income. No, I cannot force the unemployment website or phone number to respond and resolve at least one thing for me. No, I cannot stop the air I breathe from being toxic.
The smacking continued, undeterred by my admittance of futility. It grew louder, until I shook. I shook like a maraca, played by a child without rhythm. Life right now is a maraca in the hands of a child running wildly through the room, chased by the adults.
The Holy Spirit reminded me of February 28th. On this Friday, during an intensive weekend of study of narrative-focused trauma care, I left my colleagues for home. Unsettled in my body, jittery, I made my way home. I collapsed into bed, speaking a few words to my children and husband.
Hours later, around 3 a.m., I woke, my heart pounding, crying. Startled. Disoriented. Isolation. I woke my husband, we prayed for a dear friend, and against this spirit of isolation, and death. It was fierce and heavy. Saturday morning before the training, I called a mentor about the dream, and the lingering sense of work that wasn’t done. Nothing felt resolved, but a deep sensation that whatever I was praying about in the night still needed prayers.
Arriving to my intensive, I sought out women prayer warriors – their word confirmed that they also sensed a spirit of isolation. Not just for the person I woke praying for, but the building, and the surrounding area.
We prayed together.
Returning to my group, I listened to multiple others share of disturbed sleep, and anxieties. Holding my breath, I told them about my dream, the prayers Luis and I offered in the middle of the night. To my surprise, the group facilitator, asked me to pray out-loud. I did. It shook me. I felt tender in a way I haven’t felt. Closer to God. Closer to living.
“Wake up!” I shout at my February 28th self.
Ezekiel 33 comes to mind, again: “Once again a message came to me from the Lord: 2 “Son of man, give your people this message: ‘When I bring an army against a country, the people of that land choose one of their own to be a watchman.”
The entire world is describing what cannot be described with the word, “unprecedented”. It’s definition: never done or known before.
A worldwide pandemic may be unprecedented, but God is calling the watchwomen, appointing the watchwomen to return. This has been done before.
And, from the Chinese women scientists at the University of Washington, to the grocery clerks, to the women pastors, to the women educators, to the women therapists, to the women inventors, to the congresswomen, to the homeschooling mothers, and to all the others, this is the time for us to do what God has asked of us.
There is a call on our lives. It is a unique, defiant, blessed, and weighty call to action. This is not a call to perfection. As the maraca of life shakes us, the Almighty stands at our sides. He is with us. He gives us strength, space for grief, and moment-by-moment knowing.
We do not need the stereotypical positions of power. We hold the unique position of being called to watch.
He is appointing you and me, mothers, sisters, aunts, daughters, partners, friends – women of all colors and nations to special posts of prominence, position, and power.
We are watching for the welfare of the elderly, the vulnerable, our neighbors, our enemies, the homeless, the marginalized, the undocumented, the ones with no voice, to say, we see, we will feed you, we will shout from the rooftops to protect you.
And, I rise up alongside you all Watch Women, to say I am watching, as well. I will answer, too.
Dedicated to my colleagues in the trenches, facilitator/group members from TC2, grocery store workers in Poulsbo, Washington, advocates for sex workers, nurses, doctors, therapists offering support to first responders, graduate school support staff at The Seattle School, my small group cohort, mothers in homes keeping my spirits up, unemployed service workers, educators, coaches, and fellow writers in the battle with me (you know who you all are). Love and peace and joy and grief with you.