With a newborn baby, I am not a very competent parent, and I need support. As I pray for the wisdom I need, the baby matures a little bit. Then I pray for endurance and the baby continues to grow. While praying for laughter and a sense of humor I am shocked about how the child develops even more. Still feeling inadequate to bring this newness completely into the world, I pray for a circle of women friends who are infinitely creative, eternally responsive, powerfully intelligent, and sublimely feminine.
To my surprise, these women tell me that while I was raising this baby I also composed a hip-hip/celestial fusion symphony, wrote a memoir in Spanish, and painted a canvas reminiscent of the motifs of the San Bushman. These women call themselves Woo Hoo and say I am now mature enough to wear the make-up of the sisterhood. They circle around me and paint my entire body from a suitcase full of multi-colored lipsticks, rainbow pencils, and tinted powders.