"I'll stand on the ocean until I start sinkin'"

This year I cooked Thanksgiving dinner at my house.  Using a Kitchen that I did not design, buy or know.  It was my mother-in-laws kitchen.  Well loved by her and well used by her; but for me it was awkward, cramped, and finally I adjusted. 



This year has been a tough one.  My husband lost his mother, me my mother in law, all of our children a grandmother and that loss has been felt.  To make matters weirder we moved in her home which we inherited and we live here.  Yep, everytime Brian's children come to visit us they have to walk into this home where their grandmother just lived and now doesn't anymore. I find myself worried about how that makes them feel.  Does it even ever cross their mind?  When they look around the room does their inside voice say in their head to them "Here is where my grandmother put her Christmas tree, etc...and now I will never see it again."  I wish I could balm their pain, and ease their loss but instead I invited them over for Thanksgiving dinner.  Which is the way we Southern Mommies love their children.

Before I moved into the house I had it painted and completely transformed it with color so that when I walked into it I did not see Mamie everywhere.  My fellow goddesses called it "making the house my own".  I kept on telling myself people buy houses from other people, or move into houses where people have died just recently.  I know though the reason I agreed to move here is because it was something my husband wanted to do.  It was if as long as he could live in his mothers home it would comfort him somehow....and I was okay with that because if that is what he needed to get over his grief and to eventually help him with his loss then who am I to stand in his way?  My job as I saw it was to give him what he wanted, while trying to compromise and make it to where it did not seem so strained and more peaceful to me.

The Templites (this is what we call our community because we find it very positive) all gathered together to bless me on this new venture and gathered a beautiful basket, witchy kitchen towels, a bottle red wine, a loaf of bread, incense, pink salt, candles, and fresh herbs that I would need to bless my home.  I blessed our home, I swept out the negativity and asked each and every God and Goddess to please move into our home.  Constantly I stroke the walls and tell the home I love it and am so appreciative of its beauty. I have pruned and petted the pear tree and apple tree in the yard until they seem newly rejuvenated.  I built altars at the apple trees base, and in the middle of the pear tree there was a altar hole alread with a pre-faded fairy door and window.  I have laid out offerings to the land spirits.  I have made way for the fairies and am building them homes along with the brownies and gnomes that have made their presence known. 

I have visions of how the home will look, and have finally gotten the outside painted as beautiful as the interior with french vanilla and dark burgundy cherry shutters and door.  The front flower bed with unkept roses has been pruned, and offerings of coins, and corn, and beautiful stones have been lovingly places at the borders so that the God Geb will feel our gratitude; and know that we are happy!  Life is sunny! Life is prosperous!  Life is abundant!  Life is beautiful if only we create it and take the time to do the work making it so...

I invited some really good friends to join us for the dinner with our grown children in our new home that I am adjusting too.  The home filled with light, laughter, lots of stories, children played in the home.  Games were played.  Wine was enjoyed.  Desserts were divine. 

I looked at everyone laughing and smiling and I realized that if I really do direct the Movie of my life that I had led it in a new direction.  I was tired of feeling grief, feeling guilty, being awkward.  I had re-written my script.  I was in love with a handsome man who loved me back in a healthy way; had beautiful healthy children; smart, talented, witty friends; a beautiful home; a fulfilling paying job; and a full spiritual life.  I had people who loved me, encouraged me, and were loyal, I have Gods and Goddesses that are evidently working in my life.  I have many children (four) and several grandchildren now (three).  My life is full!  My life is beautiful!  Life is good!

This year was the first time I was the grandmother and the Crone of my family that took care of everyone.  I was the eldest female, and I had somehow or another stepped into my role relatively easy. I remember being the grandaughter that was a little girl sitting on the counter while my Mamaw made brownies.  I remember being the woman that went to her mothers not bringing a thing because she was so poor and in college.  I remember coming to Mamies (my mother in law) with just a dish or two trying to help her more and more as she got older.  Now I am in her role, and in my Moms role, and where my Mamaw was.  I am the Head of the female household here...the changing of the guard was inevitable it always is.

As I wash the dishes and place things in the dishwasher I marvel at the relative ease that I really pulled that big meal off with and how smoothly I did step into that role.  The turkey was moist, the stuffing good, the gravy warm not too cold...and I hear my inner maiden say "oh no we are grown up!"  "It's okay"  I say out loud to her to comfort her.  I have been preparing for this role my whole life and had no idea.  I am so glad I had the Mother, Mother in law, the Mamaw, who patiently showed me what I was supposed to do when they were gone.

"Thank you Ladies!"  I say aloud.  "Thank you Isis!"  I say to my Goddess.  "Thank you house and kitchen for working with me today."  I say to our new dwelling.

I listen with my mundane ears and my "unseen ones"...."You're welcome"  I hear the air vibrate back to me. 






  

Age is no barrier. It's a limitation you put on your mind.--Jackie Joyner-Kersee

I see my Mamaw Minnie alot walking around the town of Memphis, Tennessee.  Yesterday, a woman crossed the road in front of me in a grey sweatshirt, blue jeans, clogs, and a kerchief over her metal grey hair...I slowed down and came to a complete stop in my new car.  When she turned to look at me because she had finally noticed a car crossing the road, her blue eyes twinkled behind the cat-eyed old lady glasses she had on.  For a second, I saw my Mamaw.  I smiled and waved at the lady.  Then the face transformed to another elderly lady I had never seen before, but she waved at me with her gnarled hands and bright chapped red palms.  It was okay she wasn't really my Mamaw, but it was good to see her just for a minute.

Last night I went looking for her on the ley lines, the planes where we as Witches and Pagans travel.  A scene came forth...New York city, I was in a bus again.  I am sitting on the bus rocking back and forth with the speed of the vehicle looking out the window at the people mulling back and forth like ants going to their destination with packages, and umbrellas and coats slung over their hooked arms.  There in the middle of all that people traffic is a woman with iron grey hair and a bright yellow kerchief on her head.  She has on a polyester shirt with bright pink flowers on it and navy blue stripes that run down it vertically, the pearlescent buttons that are snap like twinkle in the fog, her faded blue denims and her busted out tennis shoes present pieces of flesh that peak out at me...Yes, it is my Mamaw.  

She waves at me, I wave back...then she takes off at a pace like a person gearing up for a race.  As she winds up she jogs, then she sprints, then she is faster than light and becomes a blur...she is ahead of the window at the bus.  The bus stops I get off.  She is waiting for me at the corner of the curb.  She has beautiful blue black hair, vivid red lipstick that almost is alarming, pale white shining skin, eyes so bright they seem unreal and blue as the ocean.  She grabs my hand and we walk together, saying nothing just swinging our arms and hands back and forth and humming like we did when she was flesh and blood.  I peacefully rub her young flesh hands, and hear her jingling laughter while marveling at her transformation and ripe youth. She winks at me, I stick my tongue out...and then I lean over and hug her and it smells like vanilla root, sage, and hyacinths.  

I wake.  She is still here.  Every time I see an older woman I see my grandmothers spirit within her, jumping out to remind me that she loves me.  I know she is never gone, and that she and I will have good times again.  I pray that one day when I am grey I will look in the mirror and see her smiling back at me.  Maybe I came to be so attached to my Mamaw so that I would be able to accept aging and the special beauty that comes with it.  She was the most active funny woman I have ever met. 

I did not celebrate my birthday this year.  No one celebrated it for me. I started to study the aspect of the Crone, and accept the possibility no the inevitability that I was in the throes of menopause and starting to not just "hear the call" but had her in my home.  I froze.  I clammed up.  I was living in the Nile and it was not the river...ha ha.

I go back to the ley lines, I see that old woman running at the speed of light and I realize that is the magic of the Crone.  You have to see beyond appearances and notice the details in the middle of the haze and confusion of "ant-like/worker bee" activities.  I am getting there.

Thank you for patiently waiting for me to have something I wanted to share with you all again...and for the gift of your time.  Happy Holly Days!

THIS week, take this quote to heart:  
The belief that youth is the happiest time of life is founded on a fallacy. The happiest person is the person who thinks the most interesting thoughts and we grow happier as we grow older.--William Lyon Phelps