Tuesday, February 24, 2015
Life Really is Like a Box of Chocolates
I've spent most of my life knowing I was clairaudient, but not having a name to place on it. Having begin my witchy life, I now have a better understanding of my gift and have been working to strengthen and trust it. Last week, it gave me a beautiful experience that I am sure I will never forget. It started out with a simple stroll downtown.
Tuesday morning, I loaded up the little girls and headed to the library. Story hour starts at ten and we were a bit early, but Miss Busy insisted on going as soon as she saw me getting our things together. It was an unseasonably warm morning and I was enjoying our walk completely as I turned the corner onto Main Street and walked past the local drug store. Since I never shop the drug store, I really didn't pay much attention as I walked by both entrances. I had just about passed the jewelry store next door when I stopped in my tracks, completely consumed by the need to go back to the drug store for a box of clearance Valentine chocolate. Since I rarely eat chocolate, this was very odd for me.
Unable to shake the need for chocolate, I turned around and wrestled the stroller though the tight entrance remembering why I never visit this shop. Standing at the counter, behind a stack of clearance Valentine chocolates was a pharmacy tech about my age. Under her minty green smock that hung unbuttoned, she was wearing a t-shirt depicting a beautiful moon image and the inscription "We live by the rhythm of the moon." I did a double take. Was there another pagan in town? I just had to ask.
Now, once before I had asked someone if they were pagan the children's librarian always wears an ankh necklace, but it is in honor of her favorite comic book character and their response had been nearly horrified shock, so I knew I had lead into this carefully. I complimented her on the beautiful shirt and then followed it up with "are you pagan, too?" At first, her gaping stare led me to believe I had made yet another mistake. Then she smiled ear to ear, looking at my quite obvious pentacle necklace.
She told me that she was not a pagan, but her mama had been. The shirt and other similar shirts that she owned were homages to her. She spoke for a minute about what a wonderful childhood she had experienced growing up with a pagan mother. Before I left, she thanked me for asking as most people in this very conservative town pretended not to notice like they do with anything that makes them uncomfortable. Those few minutes made both of our day. I received reaffirmation of my gift and she received a little love from the mama she misses.