Acceptance

It's always a good feeling to know that some people accept both me and my beliefs fully, without reservation. My parents, while they love me, are somewhat reticent about my beliefs. I remember last year when I told my mom I was thinking of converting to Christianity, joy entered her voice and she said "I'm proud of you." Perhaps that was when I experienced my first hesitation. Well, I had made the decision that I was converting, but hearing her say that and how she said it was an absolutely horrifying and eye-opening experience. Forget that she amended: "I mean, I was proud of you before." What does it mean when I'm loved more if I follow one path, than if I follow another? When I told her that the Christian path was not working for me, that I was "going back" to being a Pagan, she told me to think about it. Take some time. ... Thanks mom.

I understand that she just doesn't get it. And I'm thankful that she's come such a long way from the outright fear and hatred and loathing she expressed when I first became interested in Wicca. But it's still disappointing to see her eyes glaze over when I talk about the Ostara bunny or anything else related to my holidays. I try to forget that she thinks "witch" is an entirely suitable replacement for "bitch."

And then there's my sister, who Camden and I will be going to see this weekend. She decided she wanted to put together an Easter basket for him and sent me a text saying "The Ostara bunny is planning a trip to Auntie Red's." And all I could do was smile. While it's good to have people about who are willing to accept that I don't necessarily believe what they believe, it's a million times better to have people about who whole-heartedly embrace me and my beliefs, different or not.