The Pentacle and the Parents' House

A few years ago, my parents already knew I was into "that digging-up graves, eating the dead, Celtic Shit."  (Their description--not mine).  I pretended I didn't know what they were talking about.  A few conversations about my new Wiccan path ended in arguments about whether or not I was joining a cult and "doing weird things in the woods."  

I went deep into the broom closet for a few years after those discussions.

Anyway, eventually, it's just dumb to keep hiding.  I won't get disowned for being "Woo-Woo."  I always expected some kind of "coming out" conversation, but that didn't happen.  One year, when coming home for Christmas, I simply didn't feel like pulling off the pentacles.  

Later, my parents each brought it up.  While I was on the computer.  Each on their way to get another diet coke.  

Dad: So, are you a Christian these days?

Me: No.

Dad:  Oh.  I noticed you were wearing that star again.

Me:  Yep.  

Dad: Oh.  Okay. (Walks off for Diet Coke)

(a few minutes later, still on the computer...)

Mom:  So, this Ireland trip you're going on...is that a witch-thing?

Me: Yep.

Mom:  Oh....and your friend Izzy?  Is she into the witch-thing, too?

Me:  Uh-huh!

Mom: Oh.  You know we block their website at my company, right?  The Wiccan website?

Me:  Well, Mom, there is more than one website.

Mom:  Is it a cult?

Me: No.  There's no central organization.

Mom:  Some of them can get really cult-like.

Me:  True.  But I don't hang out with culty people.  Some Christians are culty, but you don't hang out with them!

Mom:  Yeah, that's true.  I still liked it better when you told me you were going to Ireland to tour castles.

Me: We're still doing that!

Mom:  I liked it better when that was all I knew you were doing.  (Walks off to get Diet Coke)

That was a few years ago.

It doesn't make sense for a Priestess to hide her faith, unless she's in danger of harm.  I'm not in danger of harm, even if the Wicca is a big, fat broomstick clogging up my family's living room sometimes.  

Just to make things easier, I often wear a St. Brigid's cross--which is symbolic of my Goddess, Brid, but bothers my parents less.  I keep the ring on, which I've worn since I picked up the path.  

I'm in town for Thanksgiving and it's so nice to be here.  You can buy cold-cuts and eat them at home, but even those same cold-cuts taste  better at Mom's house.  

This morning, the news reported a terror plot against New York City subways uncovered.  Mom became terribly worried, of course.  Jumped up and hugged me and said, "I just hate that that came on while you're standing here!!!  It just worries me so!!!"

"Don't worry, Mom," I said.  "I had a dream about this weeks ago.  Even told Cuzin Mandy about it.  The dream warned of the plot but told me everything would be fine."

That kind of stuff usually scares Mom.  But in truth, Woo-Woo scares her less than subway terror plots.  

I have a reading in two hours with a woman from Knoxville, TN.  Haven't read for a Southerner before, other than my cousin and her friends.  This will be fun.  :)