We have a guest post running today, over at Sermons from the Mound, part of the ongoing March series on the future of Paganism. If you'd like to read Sacred Fire, head on over and take a look.
Well, that was unexpected. For the last year, ever since my mom's health took a sharp downturn, I've been my dad's ride to Florence Congregational Church on Sundays. That community has been important for my dad and the weekly outing with me was something he always looked forward to and enjoyed, so I didn't mind taking him there. It meant giving up attending my own Quaker meeting for the duration, but I had already been questioning whether silent waiting worship was working for me. I was ready for a sabbatical. A month ago, my dad was Section-Twelved into a geriatric psych hospital when his dementia started to make him emotionally volatile. I had been visiting him every day at his assisted living facility which was right on my way home from work, but the hospital was almost an hour away. I didn't see him at all for three weeks, and when I did visit him there, it actually took me a couple of seconds to recognize him. He was slumped forward in a wheel chair, lo...
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Yesterday I was taking out the trash, and I had had a particularly difficult discussion with my mom. She had been very abusive to me as a child, and has been a source of a lot of heartache. This conversation was no different.
I went to take the trash out, and I had one of those moments of clarity. It's hard to describe, and may sound completely stupid, but it just felt true, so I'll do my best to describe it and do it justice.
I was taking the trash out, and it was heavy, so I could feel my muscles straining. The wind was whipping around me, the clouds were dark and ominous, and halfway down to the apartment's dumpster, it started to rain.
You see, I've always loved rainstorms. I used to sit out in rainstorms and get soaking wet, but it was something that gave me joy. The power! The strength! It made me feel connected to myself in a way I still don't understand. And I glimpsed for a moment that fire of the Spirit you talked about in your post.
I also felt touched by a spirit mother of some kind. I've felt connected to her in the wind, in the earth, and especially in the moon, and I got the sense that she was telling me that SHE was where I had gotten my strength from for all these years. The wind was whipping around me, and the rain was coming down, and I felt it, the earth/spirit mother/fire of Spirit saying to me "you belong here, you are one of us, you have always been one of us".
It's difficult to describe and maybe that is okay. But thank you for sharing your spiritual journey in this blog. It helps me find meaning and language for my own.
Now your moment in the storm is going to stay with me, holding at least an echo of what that moment had for you. Thank you so much for sharing it here.