She Is Hovering

“In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters. And God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light.” —Genesis 1:1–3

Before there were pulpits.

Before doctrine.

Before the lines were drawn between man and woman, before there was male or female at all -

A deep. A void. A hush.

The earth was unformed. Empty. The unknown stretched wide like a blank canvas, and the Spirit of God hovered,

steady over mystery,

like the stillness before a heartbeat begins.

In Hebrew, the word for hovered is rachaph - to brood, to flutter, to move gently,

like a mother bird keeping close over unhatched life.

The first movement of creation was not command.

It was comfort.

It was Presence,

maternal and near.

And then, from the hush, Love spoke: “Let there be Light”

And the unknown began to unfold.

The darkness peeled back.

And light-brilliant, tender, holy-was born.

God as Mother: Hovering Over the Unknown in Us

She is still hovering.

Over your uncertainty.

Over the unwritten places in your story.

Over the unspoken questions, the forgotten dreams, the parts of you that feel unfinished, unseen, unformed.

She hovers like a midwife over a womb not yet ready to push.

She does not rush.

She does not rebuke.

She waits.

Home to Ourselves

God-who is not ashamed to be called Mother-

is longing to bring us home.

Home to the Garden before the shame.

Home to the womb where we were first known.

Home to the place where feminine and masculine were not divided but they danced in unity.

This is about image restored.

The image of God-both fierce and gentle, strong and soft—reborn in you.

She is hovering again.

Like in Genesis 1.

Over the unknown within your story-

your silence, your memory, your ache, your hidden strength.

And She is speaking again:

Let there be light…

”Not just light in the world-

but light in you.

Light in who you are.

Light in the soft sound of your voice.

Light in the quiet beauty of your gift.

Light that warms, not burns.

Light that says, “You are safe.”

And with that light comes the great return:

The return of the restored feminine.

The return of the restored masculine.

The return of you

whole, radiant, beloved.

She is hovering still.