Honoring My God

2010 June

Honoring My God

I was born in 1951, the year the witchcraft laws were repealed in England. Being a witch that would be considered a nice year in which to be born and great for people who lived in England. However, I was born in the United States.

It was also a time when the majority of the women ruled their homes and men ruled the rest of the world. Mothers worked in the homes and raised the children. Men worked during the days and spent very little time with their children. My father was in the military. Sometimes he would be stationed in another country for twelve to eighteen months, which meant we had no father during that time. Sometimes he took us with him on tours, but most often times not.

For crimes committed not punishable by society but punishable within the family structure, warnings were delivered by the mother with the phrase “YOU JUST WAIT UNTIL YOUR FATHER GETS HOME.YOU ARE GOING TO BE SO SORRY”. The fathers administered the punishments for these crimes. In our house, hugs and kisses given by fathers were something we saw on TV shows such as Leave it to Beaver and Father Knows Best. It was amazing to me that the TV children did not fear these TV fathers. Why were the TV children never beaten? Where was their fear?

The American dream was to grow up, get married, buy a house and have children. Girls and young women were always cautioned before a date on what not to do. Kissing led to petting, petting led to heavy petting and heavy petting led to premarital sex, and premarital sex resulted in a child born out of wedlock. In my hometown, unwed mothers went to a distant Aunt’s house for a visit, which was actually the Home for Unwed Mothers. Being an unwed mother was not a title that an unmarried woman wanted to have attached to her name. This title removed her from the marriage market. And because the opposite sex could be the reason for all this turmoil to society’s well laid plans for our lives…men were something to be feared when dating.

Even the religion that my mother and father practiced consisted of a God that was to be feared. When one died, one was judged by this God as to being worthy of entering his kingdom based on the behavior of one’s life. Now there was a male subjecting us to fear of where we were going to be spending eternity after we died!

Is it any wonder that I, a child growing up with all this fear being directed from all the male energy, wanted no part of a male God! Fear is an odd motivator.

One day my sister and I were having a conversation about how her male Deity “tried” to work with her. He would relay messages through the Goddess who worked with my sister because she would not listen to him. In fact she would show him the palm of her hand. My mouth dropped. This was a revelation! I did the same thing!!!! I knew there was a male Deity trying to speak to me, but there was NO WAY I was going to listen to “HIM”. All I could associate with a male presence was fear, so good luck buddy. I had the mistaken idea in the back of my mind, if I ignored HIM he might go away. However, he did not go away. He just relayed the messages to the Goddess who worked with me and she would tell me what he wanted me to know.

Then came the day of “the epiphany”. He was not going to leave me. He was going to be in my life regardless. I also realized this God had never harmed nor punished me. He had never given me a reason to fear him. And if there was no reason to fear him, then there was every reason for me to love and honor him.

So, how do I honor the God that has chosen me? Do I set up an altar dedicated to him? Unless the altar is set up for a blacksmith or metalworker, I really doubt he would be impressed or interested. Do I take the time to write poems dedicated in his name? He might use them to start a roaring fire. Perhaps homemade brownies and a nice Port wine might be just the thing until I think of something that might interest him. And since I know He is a God who works with his hands, I know he is smiling when I get out my handsaw, table saw, dremel, or electric sander. I can feel him edging closer, breathing down my neck, waiting for me to extend an invitation to him to take over a project that I have started.

I honor him by allowing him to work through me on my projects. I honor him by loving him and recognizing the fact he is a part of my life. I do all this without fear and this is how I truly honor him.

Lucille M Rose aka lj