You may have noticed that I have been less present on the blog, limiting myself to one weekly exercise and then sometimes not even that. I’ve been missing it terribly, but it’s all that has been allowed to me. I’m trying to live up to a code of honesty and that means that I don’t want to pretend to be something I’m not. I was discussing this with my friend and fellow author Arin Murphy-Hiscock who understood the pressure that comes from writing. That pressure is self-imposed mostly in so far as I expect myself to live according to the highest possible ideals, because I write about the highest possible ideals: a spiritual life that uplifts everything we are.

The truth is that you and I are not different at all. I work a full-time job and struggle to do the best by my two kids, trying to live an honorable life and to share my love of Spirit with as many people as I can reach.

The truth is that I have had a horrifying past two weeks. I’ve been vague about the difficulties we were having at home, but why hide them? If we were honest about our hardships, maybe we would all have more compassion and we would all suffer much less. So, the last couple weeks have been excruciatingly painful. Some of you may have picked up that I am having some difficulties with my son, the love of my life. Well, the whole truth is that he doesn’t speak much yet and that he’s been pulling tantrums from hell pretty much non-stop for weeks now. He does nothing we say and just screams and hits and screams some more. I know it doesn’t sound like a big deal. All kids throw tantrums, right? And a lot of four-year-old’s have a problem with parental authority, right? And I have heard countless stories of late-talkers. It’s all true. But adding all these features together doesn’t look good. I have the medical people telling me they suspect an autism spectrum disorder. And my mother’s instincts telling me it’s not that. My husband and I trying to keep the boat afloat. Then someone mentioning Doreen Virtue’s crystal children. Could it be? And then another tantrum to throw all my hopes to the wind…. So many different opinions, so many thoughts spinning in my head, so many fears taking hold of my heart. In the mean time, I have broken down at work every single day for the past two weeks. Everything was so rocky. And to add a symbol to the mix, I lost a diamond earring that my husband had just given me for our 10 year anniversary. I was outside when I realized it was missing. Chances of finding it were slim. Another symbol that it was all going downhill…

But the worst part in all this, the absolute most terrifying thing was that I lost hope. Hope has always been my weapon. It got me through everything. I looked at my husband on Friday night and I could see in his eyes that he had lost it too. I felt dead inside. Empty and dead.

My parents kept the kids Friday night in hopes that we would resurrect somehow. One good night’s sleep helped and time together as well. I also was asked to go help out at the graduation ceremony at Crescent Moon School and for the Imbolc ritual, so I was looking forward to recharging in Brigit’s company. All we needed was a tiny spark of hope. I wasn’t asking for the full flame. Just a spark. Well, a spark comes from hitting two rocks together, so my husband and I set ourselves in motion. We re-arranged the kids’ room and moved furniture around, put up nice pictures¬† and set up their dreamcatchers. We felt good that we were doing something, not so powerless. As I was about to step out to go to the ritual, I stepped on something metallic. The back of my earring! My husband looked down and at his feet lay a tiny diamond stud. We looked at each other and felt a great blessing wash over us. What were the chances of us finding it a week later when it could have fallen anywhere?! Right there and right at that moment.

The point is that you always have to keep hoping. No matter what. No matter how hard it gets. Because you can lose a tiny crystal in the ocean of the world and it could still wash up at your feet.

I don’t know how things will proceed with my baby. I give you all a mission to remind me of what I just wrote, because I may need the reminder! In the mean time, please keep us in your prayers!

Love and light to you all!

Crazy Week…

It’s always crazy the week before going on vacation: tying up loose ends at work, making travel arrangements, packing everything. The usual madness! It’s no different for a Witch than it is for everyone else!

It’s not easy being the mother of two young kids. Sleep deprivation aside, it’s the worrying that really does me in. Do they eat enough, poop enough, are they developing on schedule, how are they coping with the world…. In short, are they OK?

I went to sleep with all this in my head,  feeling completely helpless and washed out. As always, I turned to my Mother for guidance. What should I do? Is there something I am not doing right? How do I help my son speak more and my daughter sleep at night? Please, Mother, help me take care of them!

I woke up in the morning with a vague knowledge of having spent the night in conversation with someone. We had talked about hope.

Hope.

That was the answer. That’s how you make it through the worry.

Nothing to do. Just hope.

Expect the best.

Bottle down the fear and let it fizzle out with great blasts of hope. That’s the gift of Hope: it is the destroyer of fear. Without fear, you can dare to reach out for your greatest dreams.

And so, that day was born with a new hope. And while we were all playing outside that evening, my son did something unexpected. He reached out to the moon and pretended to gobble it up. He burst out laughing and I knew everything would be all right.