I have a group of friends. To the world, they’re nice ladies. Respectable. Kind. Pillars of the community. One of them volunteered with Samaritan’s Purse and went to western North Carolina to help after the hurricane.

I’ve known them for a few years and they are one of my joys of being alive. They use to be the sassy, sarcastic hot chicks who broke hearts and made grown men cry. They know how to Vogue and slip on the glam, if they want. They’ve raised children, cane, and hell but not in that order. They’ve navigated careers and houses. They’ve lost people they loved. They’ve battled health wars. They’ve fought all the hard battles.. and they won.

Most of the time, they smile sweetly, say a prayer, and sip a glass of wine on the back porch. They’re content to let the world define them as vague ol’ nice ladies. LOL…NICE?

But every now and again, we open the secret armory and pull out the big guns. We like to remind one another of who we are. Warriors. We’re all warriors who can take on anything. Even if we turn and cry over the wounds we inflict, we will still raise our swords and eyebrows at foolishness. If we need to.

This is our latest “magazine cover.”