It’s been a crazy weekend. Whereas last weekend was a dream come true, this weekend my son lost all composure. The culmination of the weekend was having to drag my screaming son across the park to get him to take a shower before going into the pool because the lifeguard said so. Not hot.

Of course, this sends me into a mind loop of what I did to mess things up and how I should make things better and a whole lot of anger at a system that doesn’t tolerate a child to stare out the window for 5 consecutive minutes. How do those other parents muster the authority to get their children to do what they want (well, at least in public….)? Well, I have said all this before. Recurrent theme in my life.

Today was better, even though my mind did race all day with a bunch of unwanted thoughts about what will happen in the future and why is this happening. As I put the children to bed, my son starts screaming. He tells me there is a monster. I proceeded to expel the said monster, but it wasn’t clear whether he wanted the monster stay or go. I asked him, ‘Can we call angels instead?’ His face softened and he said, ‘Yes, angels.’ So I called Raphael to bring us health and strength, Gabriel to bring us wisdom and inspiration, Michael to bring us courage and a thirst for justice and Uriel to bring us love and compassion. I then said the prayer to our guardian angels. And my son fell asleep.

From the next bed, my daughter calls me to hug her to sleep. As I lie down next to her, she looks at me and says ‘Prière’. Prayer. I start saying the familiar words of Our Father (which she almost knows by heart already) and a sudden wave of emotion took over me. I looked at her steady breathing. She is only two years old and already she has this sacred place that she can go to for comfort, the sacred place of a few rhythmic words that I weave around her. She then looked at me with her peachy smile and said, ‘Marie’. I continued my weaving with a string of Hail Mary’s, the rhythm of which lulled her to sleep. As I was saying these words of power, the gifts from our tradition, I felt four pillars take hold of each corner of my house. I realized then, with deep emotion, that it did not matter how I raised them. It didn’t matter what I said and how I got them to behave or if Super Nanny would be proud of me. More important than this, is that they grow up surrounded by the Great Source, in its all its faces and symbols and songs. I don’t even need to tell them about it. It is their gift of vision that will let them see the sacred in their own special way. Four pillars of strength for a sacred place. And me, the Mother, Priestess and Keeper of this place, weaving magic and peace and fortitude for all to behold. This I can handle.

Not to say that I may not lose my mind tomorrow. But for tonight, I give thanks to my Lord and Lady for the vision of my most cherished dream: a fortress, a sanctuary, a home.

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