The Marine

I've written before about my son, who was, is, a Marine. Once a marine always a marine, regardless of being on active service. My son was born angry. He was a colicky, difficult baby. I was a very young mother with no clue as to how to care for an infant. I married a man not his father for a home and security. We put his name on the birth certificate. It was not a good situation.

Nevertheless, I loved my cotton top child. His younger brother came along three years later with exactly the opposite temperament. A year later, I divorced their father and began a very difficult journey with a great many side turns and challenges. Their father provided stability. I provided a different way to look at the world. I missed visitation twice in their lives. Once when I was too ill to travel and once when I was snowed in and the police wouldn't allow anyone on the holidays.

I eventually went to college and traded my GED for an Bachelor's degree and grad school. Their father remarried. He didn't approve of my life style. He didn't understand my drive for education. Or my inability to fit into the world we inhabited. He didn't like my parents and thought them to be a poor influence on his children. My mother is schizophrenic and he had little interest in understanding mental illness. And he passed many of his attitudes to my eldest son, right down to condemning my later religious path, sexual orientation and number of cats.

Put that on the back burner.

The Marine now has three children of his own. I held Belle once, when his attitude relented briefly. For a few months before being stationed in Iraq my son included us in his life. He told Cameron that he loved her. He told me he would never cut me off, saying, "I'll never do that to you again."  I knew it was a lie. The one time we saw Belle, my tears rained, because I knew we would never see her again.

For a few years The Marine's wife posted pictures on FaceBook and Piccasa. I regularly tortured myself with photos. When their son was born, fewer pictures were posted. They stopped all together when the third child was born. I'm assuming from FaceBook comments that The Marine preferred my access to be cut off. My daughter-in-law still "friends" me on FaceBook; my son never has. But it became apparent my "friendship" with her was causing difficultly in her marriage, I stopped contacting her.

The other day I was on my younger son's FaceBook. A comment there led to The Marine's Halloween photo of himself, and the comments were public. As was the disrespecting comment to the LGBT community. Sigh.

Put that on the back burner.

I spent 14 years of my children't lives planning, preparing, dreaming of regaining custody. When I finally got joint custody I was also, unfortunately, in the end of a very dangerous, very damaging marriage to a psychopath. So my children didn't get the best of me when  they finally lived with me full time. I immediately plunged into another relationship because I couldn't keep custody without a second paycheck. I look at those four years I had the boys with such a mixture of joy and sadness. I wanted my sons to see another world besides the narrow minded world they came from. They attended ritual with me. My youngest even chose to study the wiccan path for a time. My eldest was horrified, in a quite condemning kind of a way.

Get a small side dish.

Cameron was at one of those gatherings with my children, and spent a long afternoon talking with Marine. They share a strong Christian background. At the time, Cameron had just begun his journey into a dual path. And Cameron can quote scripture with the best of them. For a while it seemed Marine had found a balance and respect for other's beliefs. But when he choose to return to his father's home to finish his last year of high school, he stopped speaking to me. I later heard about the very harsh paper he wrote for an English class about, "My Mother the Witch."

Stir it all together.

I t is truly one of life's greatest ironies that in my fourth decade of life I found my path and left behind abusive, damaging relationships. By all rights, I should be dead several times over. On the streets of Atlanta. At the hands of my biological sperm donor. At the hands of several ex-husbands. Then in my fourth decade I fell in love with Cameron. I followed him to this state and we created a world of love and stability. I went back to school. I became a therapist. I repaired my damaged relationship with my parents. I bought my very modest home and put down roots. And those very choices have cost me my grandchildren. Today my heart grieves.


One of the hardest part of this grief over the loss of my son and his children is other people's comments. The placating tones of someone's "Blood is thicker than water" or "One day he will realize" sets my teeth on edge. My study of family systems has taught me that one parent can replace another, just as my own adopted father has replaced my evil sperm donor. Marine has a lovely step-mother who is loving, yet as narrow minded as his father and himself. There's no room for me. The safety of Marine's narrow minded world requires him to be closed off from me, my liberal ideas, my religion, my sexual identity, and my 23 cats. (Once when he was a teen, I became so exasperated my a comment he made about my 13 cats, I told him to pick which ones he wanted to take to the pound. He dropped the subject.)

Of course I believe in miracles. Of course I send love and light to the grandchildren daily. But as the days tick by, does the possibilities of that day. For many years I comforted myself with the possibility of change. Of the grandchildren growing up and one day find me. Indeed, I believe that something new might one day be created, but that the past cannot be recreated.

I grieve my son and grandchildren as though they are dead. There is no relationship to connect us. If by some miracle, I began a relationship with Bella now, we've missed a lot of history. I haven't seen her grow up. I've never heard her call me grandma. The other two children have even less reality as I've not held them, seen them, known them for even a moment. Grief becomes a familiar companion, one easier to live with as years wear on, but constant.  Eventually it simply becomes part of your identity.

Sunday Afternoons at Grandma's

I grew up in Bloomington, Indiana until we moved to Arkansas when I was ten. I remember two things the most from those years: the humidity and going to my Mammaw's. As a kid, I always sensed tremendous tension between the parental units and my grandparents, but had no clue as to the problem. I was of mixed feelings. On the one hand, I wanted to go, be free of my mother's craziness, to be in a place that smelled of yeast rolls and sugar cookies. On the other hand, my grandmother's silences, hard work, and distance from emotion created a difficult, unnerving environment. I was pretty sure she loved me, but I never seemed to live up her exacting standards. Poppaw was easy. He just loved me. The warm crinkles of his eyes stays with me to this day. As a teen, Mammaw's neighbor, of no relation but called Mammaw Haynes, explained that sometimes love is doing. Rhubarb pie, blackberry jelly, and strawberry jam meant love. Hmmm... I'm a compulsive over eater. Go figure.

These stones used to literally just be lay
out in the fields. Folks gathered them for
fences and the outside of houses.

We were expected for Sunday dinner every week. My grandfather bought the one room house when he married Mammaw. Year by year he added rooms, using Indiana limestone on the outside. Eventually my Mammaw had a three bedroom, two bathroom home with a formal dining room where the family gathered on Sundays. Because I often spilled jelly on the Sunday tablecloth, I had waxed paper under my plate. It was convenient to draw on with the blunt end of my fork while dinner plates were removed and rinsed, and desert was brought to the table.

A year or so before we moved, things changed. In later years I heard stories of my grandmother's meddling and intrusiveness. I'll never really know how much was Daddy's resistance to anyone having a say over my mother and me. Or how much was my mother's mental illness. Or how much was religion, when daddy took mother and me from the family Methodist church where I sat between my parents or grandparents on Sundays, to the austerity of the Church of Christ. I certainly enjoyed Mammaw's yeast rolls over the cafeteria food and conversation of those church people on Sunday afternoon. Indeed, that year or two before we moved to Arkansas were the only years I remember my parents being social. My mother went to the hospital once or twice for her "nervous stomach" but she was relatively stable and we as a family seemed normal to the outside world.

When we moved to Arkansas I mourned yeast rolls and rhubarb pie. I didn't miss the coldness and the undertones of the house. But I dreaded, when I went back two weeks in the summer, returning to Arkansas where things had gotten really crazy. I tried, desperately, to tell my grandparents how wrong things were. I gave up when I was instructed to stop talking bad about my mother. Now I suspect that my grandparents couldn't tolerate their own powerlessness.

Put those thoughts on back the burner.

For the last two Sundays, Cameron and I have been going to church and then taking food to her parents since her father broke his shoulder. I am a convenience freak, and would not normally get up early on a Sunday morning to prepare a casserole before church to carry it to a family member. Hell, I wouldn't normally have a family member to carry a casserole dish to. Let's be honest, the parental units are 700 miles away, as is the youngest son. The eldest son doesn't speak to me. So Cameron's family is the nearest family I have.

Put that on the back burner.

Last night Cameron and I attended dinner and the theatre as guest of his brother and sister-in-law. Every year we pick the show, and as a Christmas present they take us out. Last night we saw Foxfire, which is about family and one's land, and roots. It struck deeply for me. I have no roots. They were torn from the ground and shaken when I was ten, poisoned by mental illness and over thirty moves in my lifetime. My family is distant, divided, or deceased. Yet there I sat with my partner and adopted family, accept and loved.

Put it all together and stir the pot.

Family Reunion
Cameron is in the shorts, I'm in the yellow shirt

On our way home this evening, I realized how much I miss what might have, should have, or imperfectly was. Aunts, uncles and cousins that gathered at those Sunday dinners. Forth-of-July family reunions and wedding anniversaries. Cameron's family has graciously given those gifts back to me. Last summer we gathered -- check out the picture. Huge family gathering and the only person not entirely aware of our "gayness" was Cameron's dad, who chooses not to acknowledge it. Cam and I are conspicuously together on the left side.

So going to church today, taking the in-laws food, was a delightful echo of years gone by. The should have, could have, would have of the past coalesced into something imperfect but beautiful, treasured and delightful. I actually spent the week planning the menu: veggie pie, slow cooked chicken, Saltine Toffee and Crispy Salted Oatmeal White Chocolate Cookies.

I'm feeling daring. I think next week will be Sunday Sausage, Apple, and Cheese Strata and I want to try NILLA Tiramisu Cookie Balls.

On Faith: Washington Post's Question on Religion

“As voted by the Religion Newswriters Association’s members, among the year’s most consequential religion newsmakers were Imam Feisal Abdul Rauf, Pope Benedict XVI, Glenn Beck and Sarah Palin, and the U.S. bishops. How would you have ranked them? Has their influence been harmful or constructive? What issue or person do you expect to have the biggest impact in the year to come?”

First the positive...I like the choice of Feisal Abdul Rauf. He condemned the attacks of 9/11 which inspired my own son's enlistment and current service in the Marines. He has worked hard to create peace and understanding between the Muslim world and the West. I doubt many Westerners, however, even know who he is. Moreover, I admire a man who speaks the truth. It's hard for an American to hear that we might be responsible for the some of the unrest in the world, "because we have been accessory to a lot of innocent lives dying in the world. In fact, in the most direct sense, Osama bin Laden is made in the USA." Tough to own responsibility. But look at our role in Iraq or Afghanistan which are obviously more politically motivated than humanitarian and I see his point.

Now my objections...

Are you kidding me??? We are naming conservative, hostile people as leaders in the faith community? What happened to the separation of church and state in this country anyway? Seems to me that GLBT issues and paganism are prime examples of other people's religious views legislating morality. Indeed, many of our founding fathers were actually what's now known as Unitarian Universalist. How many of these people have attended their Sunday morning services? Religion doesn't even necessarily appear to be a part of their service. Communication, discussion and respect is.

Pope Benedict XVI might do a lot of things right. But until we stop legislating morality and denying the world the choice and education to use birth control, people will continue to die of things like AIDS. Until the Pope and the Catholic Church promote birth control, I cannot see them as a positive influence. At the heart of the issue, for this feminist witch, is the need for women to have control over their own bodies. Otherwise, patriarchy controls them. And don't even get me started on the number of people in other countries we have harmed because we teach abstinence rather than common sense. Certainly handing out condoms may not suit many fundamentalists, but the cost to humanity needs to be evaluated.

Now, we all understand that the Pope has made insensitive and critical comments about Paganism and indigenous faiths...but Glenn Beck believes Pagans don't deserve the same protection under the Constitution as Christians. I have to wonder what he would say about someone like myself who walks a duel path of paganism/Christianity. I get half my rights? Beck incites the world rather than bringing it insight. Having looked over his books and listened to him on cable, his negativistic views are over the top.

Sarah Palin scares the bejesus out of me. She has a knack for surrounding herself with folks who know how to make her look good. Now she is going to have a TV reality show. What a lovely way to get oneself elected to office. Now everyone will feel as if they "know" her and trust her because they saw it on TV. Most of those viewers won't be troubled to look beneath the story to the core; to question, to investigate. Instead, entertainment will become fact. And yes, this means of marketing would scare the bejesus out of me regardless of who was being portrayed in a "reality" show and wants to run for office.

Now my joy...

U.S. Bishops: well, if that includes Gene Robinson, the first openly gay, non-celibate priest to be ordained a bishop in a major Christian denomination, I'm all about it. He has made it possible for Cameron and I to hold our heads up and attend church. He has made it possible for our priests to support us. While it may well cause a split in the Episcopalian Church, his courage has inspired me. And I'm saddened he has decided to retire in 2013 because of the strain on him and his family due to the worldwide backlash he has faced. Episcopalians again showed their support for same-sex relationships last year by authorizing bishops to bless same-sex unions and by consecrating a lesbian, Assistant Bishop Mary Glasspool of Los Angeles. Unfortunately, since the SC dioces does not support homosexual unions, my own relationship with Cameron cannot be blessed in our own dioces.

Not in My Bible

Some days I want to disavow the Christian church all together. This from our local paper:

Church Members Protest President: Group Rallies the First Sunday of Each Month
By Gary Glancy & Kim Kimzey
Staff writers

Published: Monday, October 5, 2009 at 3:15 a.m.

There were no counter marcheers, no police and not much fanfare, but about 50 members of the all ages from true Light Pentecost Church publicly vocalized their frustrations with President Barack Obama on Sunday.

Marching with a small brass section that played hymns such as "Lord I Want to Thank You," and "Victory is Mine" along North church Street from the Spartanburg County Administration Building to Krispy Kreme next door, the church rally opposed the president's position on abortion and homosexuality.

The held signs that included "America was founded on the belief of the true God. What happened?"; "The early church did not fear the sodomites";' and "President Obama continues to allow the innocent slaughter of babies...abortion is pre-meditated first degree murder."

After the march, Prophet H. Walker, overseer of True Light, delivered a sermon through a bullhorn condemning homosexuality, and saying "leadership causes this problem to manifest itself."

The only interaction with the public came as church leaders handed out fliers promotion their message to motorists stopped at the traffic light in front of the administration building.

I find the image frightening. I wish these people would read their bible before they spew hate. I am one to choose to argue scripture. I leave that to Cameron, to my priest, and to my own heart. However, I am deeply troubled by pickets reading "Modern Term: Homosexuality-Lesbian. Bible Term: Sodomites I Kings... I have to wonder if they have any idea that Sodomite is a term used by the King James bible, and can't even be found in some other translations such as NIV. Indeed, this is from the Purple Pew:

The men of Sodom forcibly sodomized foreigners and strangers as way to claim authority and dominance. As the bible passage says, all the people were present, including the women and children. The entire city was wicked. The Sodomites were prideful, haughty, slothful gluttons who had respect of persons, cared not a whit for the poor, and did not follow the ways of the Lord (Ezekiel 16:55-56). The act of anal sex is called sodomy today not because the men were homosexual -- for Ezekiel says they had daughters, and if they had daughters then they had wives -- but because the men of Sodom (in the presence of their wives) used anal sex as a weapon to control, humiliate, and show contempt for their enemies: foreigners and strangers.

So Sodomites were rapists, which the people of True Light Pentecost Church equate with homosexuals. Hmmm.....can it get more wrong than this???

Wicca and Divine Power

I love being part of an online community because they give me so much to think about. Currently, I'm a mentor for a study group that is reading Scott Cunningham's Wicca for the Solitary Practitioner. Here's the first question posed to the group and my response.

Cunningham says that the Wicca acknowledge a supreme divine power from which the universe sprang, but because the concept of this power is so far beyond our comprehension, it has been nearly lost in Wicca because of our difficulty relating to it. Do you agree? How do you personally feel about this concept?

As many of you know, Cameron and I are duel pathed. I tease her that she's a little more Christian than Wiccan, and I am a little more Wicccan that Christian. But since I'm about to join the church where she's a member, guess I best claim both equally! LOL

And yes, there's a reason for that statement that relates to our first discussion question. Bear in mind that these are my personal beliefs and by no means do I think they apply to anyone else.

Abuse characterized my early years, and patriarchy complete with the Christian church was part of that trauma. For many years I walked away from the Christian God. Instead, I sought the Goddess as a way to Divinity and healing. I knew from the first time I stepped into circle that I was called to be a priestess. Twelve years later, this third degree priestess in reconciling her faith in dual traditions.

In the big picture, so to speak, I picture "Divinity" as a wholeness beyond my understanding with both male and female aspects. I do think Divinity is incomprehensible, and that it is necessary to break it down to male and female aspects in order to relate to divinity. I also belive that divinity resides within each of us, hence we greet one another as "thou art god/dess".

On one hand, I don't picture "God" in church as exclusively the male Deity of the Christian faith. I try to think of the Christian God including Sophia, the Holy Spirit, or Wisdom.

On the other hand, I find the male aspect easily in church because that is the thoughtform fed by so many centuries of patriarchy and Christian teaching. I do tend to focus on the female aspect in my priestess role. Nevertheless, in a round about way, I have come to agree with Cunningham's statement regarding a supreme divine power. And since Cameron channels male energy, I leave all the male "stuff" to her!

As my path continues, I expect that in another ten years I will be able to find both male and female aspects of Divinity regardless of being in circle or church. I firmly believe in the necessity of balance, and expect to find the balance of male and female energy within myself as my healing continues, whether that be in this lifetime or the next.

How I actually go about reconciling my dual path is beyond the scope of this question. But I will say that thinking about this topic led me to Wiccan Place three months ago. While I was waiting to be approved to join, I started a blog, and anyone is welcome to read more there, Wicca and Christianity

Wiccan, Christian, Lesbian

From CBS News:

Another major issue facing Episcopal Church leaders during their 10-day national convention, which began Wednesday, is the blessing of same-sex unions. The church legislature is expected to consider it next week.

One proposal being discussed would codify the church's unofficial policy of allowing each diocese to decide whether to ordain homosexuals and bless gay relationships. Another proposal suggests the church develop rites for couples who live in monogamus, committed relationships but do not get married.

A delegate to the convention resigned after he scattered salt—a traditional method of battling the devil—under the tables of openly gay and lesbian delegates and their supporters.

Church officials announced Saturday the Rev. Nelson W. Koscheski resigned as a delegate from the Diocese of Dallas after the "salting" brought the church's House of Deputies to a halt Friday for prayers and songs of reconciliation.

I work hard to reconcile my faith in the goddess with my Christian faith. Wounded, damaged and broken, it took many years to reenter the Christian faith. And I'm proud to be Episca-pagan. I whisper goddess in all the parts where they say god, because my image of male Diety is not positive. I keep going because I need community. I need a buidling that represents safety. I need ritual. And I deeply value attendance with Cameron because it deepens and strengths our spirituality together. But that introduces yet another quandry. Yesterday pretty much sums it up.

With little money to buy even by groceries, when our church announced a "Quite Day" at the cost of $20 each, I asked if we could pay half and both attend. Mother L agreed. We basically paid the cost of our box lunch from Panara Bread. We have been looking forward to Quiet Day for weeks. Then Friday an article was published in the local paper that talked about the battle raging in our church regarding gays and lesbians. So I approached Mother L in tears, needing to know Cameron and I will always be welcome regardless of what the bishop of our diocese decides. Mother L affirmed that she and Father M have our backs. My mistake lies in asking what can we do to help. Her response was predictable and heartbreaking: "Watch your public displays of affection. Don't sit with your arms around each other in the pew or hold hands in public. Don't sit too close to each other. When people see you together, time after time, they'll know you are together." Granted, Mother L is extremely reserved, and does not like much of anyone's PDAs. But I doubt she would have said the same thing to an adult heterosexual woman. She would have said it to a teenager.

Cameron was in so much pain when I relayed the conversation, that she immediately sought out Mother L as well. Mother L admitted she would not counsel a heterosexual couple the same way. When she was done, Mother L could see Cameron's point of view, sort of. She admits she is not comfortable with any public displays of affection. Cameron attended church with her parents the whole time she was growing up. Her father always had his arm around her mother. Her mother, in turn, alwasy had her arm around Cameron. Touch became another way to connect in faith as a family. So telling Cameron not to put her arm around me was like telling her we cannot behave as a real family.

I did a little more research, to see exactly what the Anglican leadership has to say. It isn't pretty. Indeed, its mysogenistic and condescending:

No Bible-believing Christian can say that “men are from Mars and women from Venus.” They are not distinct species but have been made for each other in their distinctiveness and complement each other. This is the burden of the earliest chapters of Genesis that are strongly and unambiguously affirmed in the teaching of Jesus himself. As a whole, the Bible’s teaching on human sexuality clearly affirms that the proper expression of our sexual nature is within the context of married love. The alternative, for those who have this gift, is dedicated singleness in the fulfillment of God’s purposes.

In the pagan world, in which the Bible was written, such a view was vigorously countercultural. Many of Israel’s neighbors tolerated both heterosexual and homosexual practices that are rejected by the Bible because they violate the holiness of God, the order of creation and respect for persons.

It is often the case that where the fundamental teaching of the Bible regarding marriage is not upheld, the status of women, in particular, suffers and they are reduced to being either a source for male self-gratification or chattel who maintain the home while men seek gratification elsewhere.

As to same-sex attraction, there may be a predisposition toward it, even if we do not know all the reasons for it. That does not mean it must be gratified. Not every desire can or should be given active expression.

There may be relationship issues with a parent or a seeking of the man or the woman “I want to be” in others of the same sex. Those in such situations need to be cared for and to know that God loves them. They need to be helped so they can conform their lives to the stature of the fullness of Christ.

Never mind that my Anglican brothers of my church leadership judges me by the Old Testament world -- the same world where the book of Levitacus dictates what food may be eaten, and the instructions for the passover feast and minutely dictated. Let's just take what we want and leave the rest. Certainly, let's not point out that Old Testament law ended, was fullfilled, by Christ's death. That Christ himself followed the law before fullfilling it with his own sacrifice for the express purpose of creating a space in which Wisdom, God and the Holy Spirit might be recreated in a world of grace, where forgiveness is available for asking rather than through blood, because he had shed his own blood for all. Yeah, I know my bible. I even believe in it. No wonder the Americans may have to break away Anglicans.

Today we went to church, and we took Mother L's words to heart. We want to reach out to our community, show them that being lesbian is another family dynamic. The whole hour, Cameron was bitterly, painfully aware of Mother L's advise. She never put her arm around me. And by the time communion came, she had tears pouring down her face. Another myth of safety has been ripped away. We have come of age. Our church, while loving us and welcoming us, doesn't quite know what to do with us. And while they support our attendance, and would defy anyone regarding our right to be present, still lacks the skill and education to know how to support us as a family. They see a lesbian couple, rather than a lesbian family.

My church is like the rest of the world, which says, "Why do gays have to talk about being homosexual. I don't talk about being heterosexual." Well, if you are the majority, your identity is assumed. Dynamics and interactions are a forgone conclusion. The dominate story fits and you don't have to protest. But I'm a lesbian. My wife is gender dysphoric. We are wives--which mother supports, even when she finds it jarring (she's never asked when/how we were married). Our world is colored by discrimination and our safety is compromised by headlines and the threat of violence.

So we will remain in our church (we've been attending for years, but only occassionally--we've now been three weeks in a row). Indeed, I'm going to confirmation classes at the end of the month, and will be confirmed as a member by the Bishop in October. Cameron's parents will even come, as they did for her! And we are the token "out" couple everyone can pat themselves on the back about being so open minded. Goddess knows, change begins must start somewhere. Let it be with me. Or US.

Paganism and Christianity: Walking a Duel Path

As Truth Teller’s funeral looms over us all, I can’t help but pause to reflect upon duel paths. I was raised first Methodist then Church of Christ. I spent many years bearing tremendous burdens of guilt and seek absolution in repeated baptisms (four total) and always had the internal voice of castigation haunting me.

Cameron’s spirituality over the years provided a powerful influence upon my path of healing. I could not run from my Christian faith, no matter how much I wanted to leave it behind. Now I find myself weaving the various parts of my spirituality into a whole that provides me with the spiritual nourishment that carries me through times like these.

I admit I still cringe at altar calls do the unfaithful to confess their sins. And yet I did go through the rite of absolution in the Episcopalian Church. I do share in the rite of communion. I do find healing in Episcopalian rituals and the music of my childhood. And I have found spaces to reconcile my faith and religious practice.

I’m part of a Christian Gay email group. Last night I accidently let my signature line post to them – I usually delete it because I don’t want to offend. The response had a sentence that beautifully summarized my faith: "We are co-creators of our own selves, our own destinies, we co-create with God, with His approval; His Grace."

And over the years my burden of guilt has been mostly alleviated. I have come to see myself as a child of the universe born of Divinity and carrying that spark within.

Raising Children while Gay and Wiccan: A Double Whammy

I think one the darkest challenges of walking my path has been dealing with the loss of custody of my children. While much of the past are stories for another day, I will say that leaving my sons in the custody of their father was one of the hardest choices I ever made. It was also one of the wisest. The agony nearly destroyed me until about six months after I left, when I had a vision/dream. I saw the huge hands of God cradling my tiny sons in the palms of his hands. It was a visual affirmation of the words my sponsor kept repeating, “Children never belong to us. Sometimes we are just gifted with the opportunity to care for them for awhile.”

Gaining joint custody when they were teenagers turned out to be a disaster because of The Evil Warlock, my fiancé. Nevertheless, during those years I was attending ritual regularly while training with the a Grove in the suburbs of Atlanta. I knew I had a calling. I seemed to have been led to the grove. Yet just before initiation I knew something had gone horribly wrong. I challenged for initiation, but they refused to allow the trial Meanwhile, my bipolar, unemployed fiancé managed to gain his first degree. He was completely unstable at the time, but had gained the confidence of my also bipolar priestess. They seemed to feed each other illnesses. He was also taking money, unbeknownst to me, and paying her bills. It took about six months for me to realize the harm my fiancé had been causing to me behind my back. It took the grove about another year and a half to realize their mistakes. I have subsequently received an apology.

One of the reasons I was determined to expose my sons to paganism was to expand their world view. We come from an area dominated by Baptists and the Church of Christ, so I wanted the boys to know there are other ways to explore their spirituality. My oldest son never “got it” and pursues a path possibly leading to becoming a Chaplin the military. My youngest is extremely involved in the Baptist church with his wife. While the oldest is traditional and narrow minded, the youngest remains open minded and nonjudgmental. I have no idea how I actually influenced either son.

Just as my spirituality can be challenging in my life, so can be being gay. My youngest son is entirely unconcerned regarding my orientation and loves my partner. My eldest son, however, is military and breaths military culture. I suppose the “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy reinforces his resistance to homosexuality. Ironically, he loves my partner who has been part of his life for 11 years. The agony of grandchildren growing up without my ever holding them, reading them stories, or hugging them is indescribable. Unfortunately, between paganism and gay, the distance between myself and my son seems insurmountable. Fortunately, I believe in miracles.