Dear Friend,

March is Women’s Month, and as a Christian woman, I’ve been thinking about who we are—and who we are called to be—without excuses, without blame, and without playing the victim card.

We are not victims of motherhood.
We are not victims of marriage.
And we cannot roar, “I am woman, hear me roar!” … and then stand on the curb with our heads titled waiting for help.

Ladies. Either we roar and learn where the jack goes—or we smile sweetly, call our man, and say thank you when he shows up like NASCAR pit crew. You don’t get to post “Independent Queen” at 9:00 a.m. and “babe, the car is making a funny noise, and I don’t know what that means” at 9:07.

I say that with love. And a little laughter.

Because being a biblical woman is not weakness. It’s strength with purpose.

This generation hears “Biblical roles” and thinks we’re being sent back 100 centuries with a butter churn and no Wi-Fi. But Scripture paints a very different picture.

Think about Deborah—wise, discerning, a leader trusted by a nation. Or Esther—strategic, courageous, and perfectly timed. These women weren’t shrinking violets. They were strong, intentional, and obedient within the roles God gave them.

And that’s the key: within the roles God gave them.

The lesson I’ve learned in my own marriage is this: strength in a woman isn’t proven by how loudly she can take over—it’s proven by how faithfully she can partner.

In my home, my husband is the head. I am not his mother. I am not his manager. And I am definitely not his supervisor with a clipboard and performance review.

I am his helper, his sounding board, his friend, his peace when the world gets loud.

There are moments when I see him overwhelmed. He won’t say it—he’ll just start moving faster. Room to room. Task to task. Like he’s filming an action sequence called “Attack of the To-Do List.”

That’s when I grab his hand and say, “Hey. Stop.”

We stand there in silence for a minute. No speeches. No fixing. Just breathing.

Then I ask, “How can I help?”

And suddenly, the mental checklist spills out. We sort it. We prioritize it. I take what I can off his plate.

That moment reminds him: he’s not alone.

But here’s the part we don’t talk about enough.

It is not cute to tear down your husband.

It is not empowering to mock him to your friends.
It is not bonding to belittle him in public and call it “just joking.”
And it is definitely not godly to speak poorly about the man you chose.

Because let’s be honest—if he’s foolish, incompetent, or useless… what does that say about our decision-making?

We chose him.

When we dishonor him, we reflect on ourselves.

And here’s the heart check that convicts me every time:

If the shoe were on the other foot, would I be okay with my husband speaking about me the way I sometimes speak—or think—about him?

Would I laugh if he joked publicly about my weaknesses?
Would I feel safe if he criticized me to his friends?

Probably not. Let’s be real that’s a hard NO.

Scripture is clear about partnership and order.

“Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands, as unto the Lord.”
— Ephesians 5:22

That word “submit” has been twisted into something ugly. But biblical submission is not silence. It’s alignment. It’s trust. It’s choosing to support the leadership God established in our homes.

And just a few verses later, husbands are commanded to love their wives as Christ loves the church. That’s sacrificial. That’s protective. That’s accountable.

It’s not hierarchy for ego—it’s structure for strength.

And then we’re reminded:

“Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor.”
— Ecclesiastes 4:9

Two. Not one competing against the other.
Not one tearing down while the other builds.
Not one leading while the other secretly resents.

Two, working together.

Strong women don’t compete with their husbands.
Strong women don’t mother their husbands.
Strong women don’t boss their husbands.

Strong women partner.

We don’t hold ourselves as martyrs—“Look at all I do!”—while quietly keeping score like it’s the Olympics of sacrifice.

We help hold up the structure.
We protect what we prayed for.
We honor what we asked God to give us.

And yes—we laugh along the way.

Because sometimes partnership looks spiritual…
And sometimes it looks like reminding him of the kid’s school play for the fourth time while also admitting I lost my phone and it’s in my hand.

We are women.
We are strong.
We have voices.
And we embrace responsibility without excuses and without blame.

Here’s to women of faith—joyful, intentional, strong, and wise enough to build what they prayed for.

With love,
From Your Friend, It’s Me Lorie