There is no shortage of voices out in the world today. Some shout, and some whisper. Some sing a song of beauty while others spread darkness and destruction. Some voices dispel lies and others decidedly speak the truth.

 I’ve spent the last few years writing, speaking and teaching about negative voices and the noise they generate: a consistent roar that bombards our girls and how we, the adults who love them, can battle back against the acrimonious din that tells our daughters what they should be. It is a fight we can win. We just need the right weapons.

When I close my eyes and think of a voice unlike the toxic noise of this world, one filled with wisdom and inspired by the truth of God’s Word, I think of Wynter. She was a weapon in the fight for our girls’ identities. She was a friend and ally to someone like me who shared her heart for empowering parents to lead their girls to Christ and activating our daughters to live boldly for Jesus. 

Impelled by a passionate heart, an intuitive mind, and a mouth filled and overflowing with the Word of God, Wynter’s voice was powerful. She and I connected last year around the topics of girls, Jesus, and how to bring the two together. We had lots of ideas, and I remember stopping to think during our first phone call about how encouraged I was that I found someone who cared just as much about girls as I did. We talked through ways that we could work together, support each other, and impact even more girls.

When we finally met in person, it was back in April when Brent and I went to Dallas for a television shoot. We stayed with Jonathan, Wynter and the girls at their house. Wynter was home to greet us, and when she opened the door I remember feeling surprised that someone with such a gigantic fire for God inside her could occupy such a tiny frame.

A few moments of excited hugs preceded the roar of laughter over the disaster that was our rental car.  Since Brent and I needed to be close to the TV studio the night before, we spent the night in a hotel and had parked our burgundy Hyundai Sonata under a live oak tree. The next morning when we returned to drive to Wynter and Jonathan’s, we saw a sight that can only be described as horrific. Our car had been bombed, BOMBED, by a flock of birds. I had never seen anything like it. Our dark red car was bathed in white bird poop. After trying our best to handle the situation at a local gas station, we showed up to the Pitts’ house laughing hysterically (Seriously, Dallas, what is up with your birds?).

After we all had a good howl, we walked inside. Kaity was drawing at the kitchen table. She had just finished her social studies project about Paris. She promptly ran into the other room to retrieve it, and we sat and listened as this vivacious, energetic sweetheart told us all about l'Arc de Triomphe et la tour Eiffel. When she finished, she and I sat at the table and made swirly art projects together with her colored pencils pouch and some computer paper.  While we worked, we talked about how no one would ever be able to duplicate or copy the original art we were creating. We talked about any time someone draws, paints, or sculpts something, it is a totally original expression of creativity. People might try to recreate it, or copy it, but it will never be the same as the original. Then we talked about how God is an artist, and people are His art.

The rest of that trip was filled with giggles around the kitchen table, reading stories Camryn and Lovie had written and me holding an impromptu Spanish lesson, first on animals, then fruits, vegetables, and colors. After the girls went to bed, the four adults stayed up late talking about our girls, projects that were coming up, dreams for each other’s ministry. We laughed about movies we liked, memories of trips we had taken, and who actually uses washcloths.

The next morning, we had coffee and Whataburger breakfast sandwiches and it was time to go. Brent and I talked as we made our way out of town. We agreed then, and we continue to talk about it often, that our ministry and calling is so much more than simply doing the work God wants us to do. It’s also about the people. The ones you meet that become so much more than other folks who are doing something similar. They become part of your ministry. They become friends. Then, they become like family.

I think that’s what made the news of her passing on Tuesday night so hard for me initially. I received a phone call from a friend, both in girl ministry and in life, and at that time I couldn’t make much sense out of what I was hearing.  It began and I could barely distinguish the words. It ended with three words I was able to hear. “Wynter is gone.”

“What?” I think I yelled. 

How can this be, I found myself frantically wondering.

 How could Wynter’s words and work all of a sudden cease to exist in the world when it feels like there are so many more words to be written and so much more work to be done in the fight for our girls? 

It didn’t make a lot of sense. It still doesn’t, but I know that Wynter’s life and work, both personal and professional, will inspire and influence people for generations to come. Every sentence Wynter wrote, every word she spoke was to one end: to equip girls to become who God created them to be. No matter if she was writing a book, recording a podcast, or speaking on a stage, Wynter used every gift at her disposal to call out the truth, to proclaim the name of Jesus, and to declare His love.  When she and I spoke last month at American Heritage Girls’ leaders conference in St. Louis, it was more of the same. Her words, her presence, her very being was devoted to Jesus.

She lived what she believed. She sought the Lord’s wisdom in all things. She climbed to her highest point, took her stand, and continually and consistently called out a message of hope: the hope found in Christ and the promise of salvation.

While the news about her death came as a shock to many of us, today I am overcome by peace.  Peace because the seeds she planted in so many girls, including her own, will grow. Peace because her words will bless and strengthen families long after her heart stopped beating. Peace because she spent her life storing up treasures in Heaven that she is enjoying now and for eternity. Peace because what Wynter stood for, what she spent her life striving to accomplish, none of it died when she did. It lives on. It will be carried forward by those of us whose hearts beat the same way hers did.

I’m grateful that the Lord purposed for our paths to converge and that her death brought with it a renewed commitment to her vision and mission for every daughter, that every girl would realize her God-given potential, say Yes to her God-ordained purpose, and walk straight into her God-breathed destiny.

There is no shortage of voices out in the world today, but take heart. Many of those voices have been influenced by Wynter.