Day 10 – What Is Sacred And Holy?

I wasn’t sure what I was going to write about today.  I thought I would  touch on the clean up around here, which I will do first and then get to today’s topic.  The tree has been removed from the roof.  The hole out side is much bigger than we thought, it extends from the eave to the pitch at the top just about. There is a fracture under the gable there, two broken trusses, possibly three, on might have even shifted slightly.  According to the restoration guy, we will need a new roof and half the house gets a new ceiling because of how it’s constructed.  It will most likely be summer before all work is complete!  Two to four weeks just to order and build the trusses!!  But for the moment, we get to  take a breath.  The adjuster has been here, the restoration guy is putting together an estimate. The remainder of the tree has to come down and we need to find out what if any of that is covered, we’re not 100% clear on that part.

I want to thank Sumaiyah Wysdom  and  Effy Wild for  inspiring today’s post.  Though, I’m don’t know where to begin without going off on a wild tangent LOL.  I know that whatever I end up writing, there will be lots of little bunny trails I can go down to post with at other times.

I was raised Roman Catholic.  Nine years of Catholic school, kindergarten to eighth grade.  I even wanted to go to an all girls Catholic high school, I don’t know wtf I was thinking there.  I think I got accepted to my choices, I was willing to go to the cheapest of them but oddly my mother said no.  Probably a blessing in disguise that I didn’t know at the time, but that doesn’t me public school was any easier. I think I wanted to go to a Catholic school because I would be familiar with the route of Prayer, Pledge, classes, prayer, lunch, prayer, more classes, ending prayers, go home. Rinse Repeat.  I guess they followed the same ritual in high school, but I never got to find out and I never asked anyone.

We were the church every Sunday type family, heck my dad only went the Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve and was rarely sober for it.  Even while in school I wasn’t at Mass every Sunday.  We were more Easter/Christmas types.  Somewhere along the way, I quit all together.

What I remember loving about it was the ritual of Mass, especially the incense.  How the altar and certain things and statues were considered sacred.  How there was a small gold vessel that was supposed to be holding some sort of relic.  When I was in the fifth grade, I have vague memories of helping to clean the church on Fridays with a Nun that was older than dirt.  It was like a rite of passage for some of us.  And Societies we could join, though I never did really understand them.  In the 8th grade we had to join one, had to wear the white doily on our heads for the initiation Mass.  I can’t remember what it was called, but nor can I remember we did anything after.

To my Grandma, Mary was sacred.  So was the Rosary.  To her, praying the Rosary to Mary during the war and aftermath is what saved them and got them through it.  She suffered much loss, but she survived.  As a result of her stories, and even though I don’t pray on it or to Mary, she and the Rosary are sacred to me too.   I’m always on the look out for Mary statues at thrift stores and yard sales. I think I left behind my Grandma’s favorite Rosary when I left my ex.  It makes me sad that I can’t find it.  There are also certain saints and medals that I feel are sacred to me.  Like St. Dymphna, my mother always said she was the saint of those with anxiety and nervousness.  She had a small statue of her on her dresser when I was little.

I left the church sometime in high school as I said.  After marrying my ex, friends of his sisters led me to Christianity but I was supposed to forsake all that I knew.  I tried for years to make this born again life fit me, but once again I had people telling me how I should feel, what was acceptable and unacceptable to believe in, what I could and could not watch or listen to.  I was being stuffed into a box and anything from my old life that I might consider sacred was now consider an idol.  You couldn’t have statues, you couldn’t have a rosary.  Try as much as I could, I couldn’t reconcile myself to it all. It just didn’t feel right, but still I tried and tried and tried.

Eventually ending up in a small church in GA that bordered on cult like.  They wanted you to only use the services of those that were members.  Need house, we have a realtor.  Need a mortgage, we got a broker.  Need taxes done, we have a member who does them.  Need a car, go to the pastor’s son in law.  It was give give give and don’t you dare say no.  When we eventually left that church, they all turned their backs on us.  Supposed friends no longer even said hello, the kids were no longer allowed to play together, and my scrapbook business fell apart because all my clients attended that church.  (But hey I had a good 5 year run, not gonna complain).

We church hopped for a bit, bouncing between a couple of different ones.  Eventually tried going back to the RC church that we find for my Grandma to go to if she wanted to. Since we had to take her, it made sense we all went.  It was different than I remembered, yet the same.  Just the church wasn’t as ornate as the one I grew up in.

Eventually, I just walked away from it all and started seeking out a Pagan path.  It seemed right.  I don’t know where I fall on the path, feels like every where and no where. But there is no one to say that my once sacred items cannot still be so to me.  I feel the Goddesses Brigid and Rhiannon to be most sacred to me, Cerridwyn and Morrigan too. Yet so is Mary and Dymphna and the odd saint here and there.  Even though I don’t pray it, the Rosary still is.  I still find I will want to wear the medals I have from time to time too.  Trees are sacred, so it hurts that this one fell.  I am hurt that we have to cut down the apple tree, for it too is sacred.

Then, there is my NO and my YES.  I struggle with NO. The guilt I feel when I say NO to something or someone, it’s overwhelming.  And it doesn’t have to be they said anything even if it’s only OKAY Thanks. My brain automatically goes down negative lane and assumes the worst because I said NO.  And if I say YES to something, I don’t always feel the joy that should come with it. Especially when I feel like I am saying it out of imagined guilt. I am struggling to find that balance, to be okay with my word being sacred and holy.  That I am worth it and enough.

My altars, if I can call them that have no rhyme or reason no matter how hard I try.  I would like to have something small near me on my desk, but….CATS!  I’m sure I can devise something, perhaps a small terrarium like one where it’s enclosed.  Yet at the same time, I don’t want them out where other people can look and touch.  I get squirrly about people touching my stuff, whether I am present or not.  Thanks mom for the mental and emotional scars!  (that’s another post).

I suppose it all comes down to I am still figuring out what is sacred and holy to me.  I am happy to be in a place though, where things that once were can still be.  I don’t think I will ever be in a place where I can openly “pray” or smudge if I choose to, where I can display my altar(s) “publicly”, where I can pull tarot or oracle cards, where I can commune with the God/dess.  I don’t like being watched, because then I feel like I am being judged, and then my sacred and holy space no longer feels that way.  It’s like when I try to make art at my art desk, and someone comes in to “see/say what are you doing”, the spell is broken.

One day maybe I will have it all figured out.  One day maybe I will not care about who’s watching or listening.  But it is not this day.

This turned out way longer and rambly than intended…Sorry about that 🙂


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