Witchy Woman

I’ve always been tapped in to my intuition. Even from a young age, I knew there was a quality I had that made me some sort of social chameleon. It wasn’t until much later that I learned about what it means to be an empath and an HSP, what those mirror neurons are really doing inside of my brain. And even taking all of that into account, there’s something deeper there. A sense. A gut feeling. Glennon Doyle would call it “The Knowing”. But I’d call it the ancestral line of seers and visionaries. The thick thread woven from the gifts of greatgrandma Rosella. I’d call it magic.

A couple weeks ago during our live worship stream at church, I had an encounter with the divine. I’m sure I as tuned into it more as our current sermon series was “Fierce Women: Foremothers of Faith”. But during the service I looked outside and saw the wind moving, not just the leaves and tree branches…but I saw the wind moving. I’m not sure that I can put words to it for anyone else. But in that moment I connected with the divine. Some may think that’s too “woo woo”. That’s fine, no one needs to understand what it all meant except me. The moment was for me. And there were certain women I could feel calling upon me in that moment, like a ancient hew or curse, my name being invoked to something bigger than me.

Caren, my dear friend and magical spitfire. Caren was one of the strongest women I’ve ever met. She reminded me to never give up on myself. To remember that no one else defines me but me. She showed me how to be serious, yet silly, and to always keep people guessing. She accepted me as one of her own without question or hesitation. And that is something that I will cherish always. People underestimated her, and that was on them. Because she was a gem.

Marilyn, my mentor and magical guardian angel. Our friendship started early. I’ve mentioned her before in this blog. But she is one of the strongest reasons why I believe in intergenerational friendships. She reminded me of the power of human interaction, the power of a hug. To remember that listening deeply to those around you is so important, but not as important to listening deeply to yourself. She was my biggest fan, and for that I am forever grateful.

Great-grandma Rosella, the magical matriarch. Maybe she should have been at the top of the list. I never met her. Out of the three of us girls she only met my oldest sister as a baby. But more and more I feel her thread of life running through me. Sometimes it gives me chills. She reminds me to be my own person. To show up exactly as I am without excuses and without minimizing myself. To remember to listen to my inner voice, my intuition, my heart, the knowing. To be my own guide and do what is best for me even when others don’t understand. To feed into my own “magic”. To continue on my path of healing in all of the multiple aspects: in my own life and for others.

Mama, my magical papillon. This is tough. My mama teaches me more and more every day. Sometimes I have to look for the touch points more so on certain days. But she’s always there. Whispering into my ear, and reminding me that life isn’t always easy but dang, it’s worth it. She reminds me that things will happen for you when they are supposed to, when you are ready; not necessarily when you want them to, but patience is a gift (one I’m still figuring out how to use). My mama drives me forward, her spirit lives within me. Her fire burns in my eyes.