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What
does it mean when your daughter (son/grandchild/etc.) is Pagan? — Author prefers to remain anonymous (I will forward any feedback to her) In 1994 I was straightening up a bit in my daughter’s room (knowing full well that it would never be clean to my satisfaction unless I did so myself) when I came across an open diary. Now, I easily remember what it was like to be a teenager and have my own mother snoop in my room. My first impulse was to close the book and put it safely out of temptation’s path. I trusted, and still do trust, my daughter implicitly and respect her privacy. Unfortunately, the symbol that glared at me from the page was rather disturbing. It was a pentagram, a symbol that I had always been taught represented evil. I read the words on the page, but the only things that registered in my mind at that time were the words ‘ritual,’ ‘spell,’ and ‘magick.’ I overreacted. I had raised my daughter Christian, just as I had been myself. I took the diary and its contents as evidence that my daughter was involved in some sort of cult, perhaps even worshipping Satan. Yet, such an image did not jibe with the way I saw my daughter. She was sweet, slightly preppy. She always loved to be at the height of fashion. There was nothing dark or secretive about my little girl. She was not a ‘goth.’ She did not have an overabundance of black in her wardrobe. She did not wear spiked collars or dye her hair odd colours. She didn’t fit into my admittedly stereotypical portrait of the type of troubled teen who would fall in with such elements. When I confronted her, it was a messy, tearful, and extremely painful scene. I was afraid for my daughter, believing her caught up in something that she shouldn’t be. I wouldn’t believe her, although I should have, when she insisted that she had found a path that she could finally relate to. She had found a religion she could believe in, she said. My disbelief did more harm to our relationship than any argument we have had before or since.
A Guide to Paganism for Non-Pagans A few weeks after our argument, my daughter gave me some books and invited me to a meeting of her ‘grove.’ I read them, out of curiosity mainly. I went with her to see a Pagan ritual for the first time. I was welcomed, despite my non-belief. Not once was I approached with an attempt at conversion. This, in particular, surprised me. It was one of the first things that allowed me to reach an understanding with my daughter about her choice of religion. Here is what I have learned over the years.
o The one, and only, time that my daughter has mentioned anything she called a blood sacrifice was when she donated blood to aid disaster victims. This type of sacrifice is certainly one that more people should give, no matter what their beliefs. A little over
a year ago, I stood beside my daughter as she was handbound
to a beautiful young man that I was incredibly pleased to welcome into the
family. The wedding was one of the
most beautiful I have ever seen (although I admit to a certain bias on the
part of my daughter). It was also one
of the simplest. Last week I was
informed that I am to be a grandmother.
I know that my grandchildren will have two wonderful and loving
parents to look after them. I also
know that they will be raised Pagan but allowed a choice of faith when their
own time comes. Such an idea does not
bother me in the least. Now, I know
that instead of falling in with the wrong crowd, my daughter chose a path
that taught her a greater amount of respect for people and the
environment. I am proud to have seen
her grow into the woman she is now, witch or no. |
© 2004, Lariawien (Jennifer Davis) unless otherwise
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