Entry 007: A Light In A Time of Trials

I want to start this post by updating you on some recent events. I grew up in the ghetto. I don't mean a "white boy's" b-rated version of a bad neighborhood, I really mean the hood. I had gang members living on my street --HUD Housing, what many refer to as 'the projects'-- I had neighbors committing hate crimes and suicide, maintenance workers and even neighbors breaking-and-entering, and babies of crack-mothers stuffed in storm drains. Most people in my neighborhood didn't go down to the mailboxes every day without carrying something as a weapon--a bat, knife, pepper spray, and in some cases even a gun. As a child I saw many horrible things and experienced first-hand many terrible things. In the 90s, my home life wasn't all that great either. The violence outside was only reflected by the violence inside. After nearly a decade of it, we finally moved on with our lives trying to escape at the very least the inner violence.

We traveled all over the State from one bad area of a city to another. We've lived in abuse shelters and homeless shelters while trying to get back up on our feet. The life of my family was one of struggle, of meeting brick wall after brick wall, of opposition always trying to knock us down. Yet we have come out stronger for it.

About two years ago, right around Yule (Christmas time), I was spending a weekend at my Covenstead when I received a phone call: my mother was in the hospital. She went in complaining of stomach pains only to have test results come back showing that due to blood clots, half of one of her kidneys was deteriorated and the other one was starting to deteriorate. They ran a few more scans to find the cause of the blood clots, and since heart problems don't exactly have a history with my family, they speculated only one possibility: Cancer. So since she was a smoker the first place they checked were her lungs. They found a mass on her left lung and decided to do a biopsy to test it. During this biopsy, her lungs collapsed. My mother is a small woman, but she is strong, she pulled through. They didn't get enough of the mass to run a conclusive test, so they decided to do a second biopsy, during which her lungs collapsed yet a second time. Test results came back positive for lung cancer.

Needless to say we were all very scared. They weren't sure if it had reached her lymph nodes yet or not, and I wasn't allowed to see her for a while. I remember my uncle picking me up from my evening classes one night and telling me he'd gotten a call from his wife who had just been there to visit my mother---"I don't know any other way to tell you this, Jonathon, but...they don't know if your mother will survive past this Sunday." I took the news in silently, it was obvious my uncle didn't have any further information to share with me, so I waited as patiently as I could until I was able to see her.

My first visitation to see her shook me to my core. She suffered through a lot, and I had been there with her through most of it---almost all of the abuse and constant running and worrying about keeping a job and financial struggles...and yet she tried to keep a strong face on for my little sister and I. She was a strong woman who was taking control back over her own life and always tried her hardest to make sure her children were taken care of first before she ever took care of herself. She fought long and hard to be able to keep us fed and a roof over our heads, worked herself to the bone. So when I saw her laying there in the hospital bed, looking so small, so frail...coughing up blood every once in a while (from her lungs collapsing) and taking breathing treatments...I was very scared. But I hid it well--I sat with my mother, I prayed with her, I talked to her and that was when I came out to her about my Faith in its entirety. I explained to her about my views on a Masculine and Feminine aspect of Deity and she took it rather well. She didn't turn me away when I offered to lend her some healing energies, some light and love.

She overheard the doctors one night say that the cancer had not reached her lymph nodes so she had a fighting chance--she gained the strength to fight, and she won. She beat back the cancer. Like most of my family, she was strong, she was a survivor.

Last May, my grandmother--my mother's mother--passed away rather unexpectedly. She was struggling and on her way to the hospital when we got the call, but before we could even hit the road, we got the second call letting us know that she had passed on her way to the hospital...but she had been sedated and asleep. (They had to wait until they could sedate her gently because she refused to go to a hospital...like I said, my family is full of strong fighters...but my grandmother had been fighting poor health most of her life, and she just got too tired and decided to go home.) This took a heavy toll on my mother. My family is not a close-knit family. There are a lot of emotional walls built up around most of them and forgiveness is not one of their finer qualities. It's mostly unheard of in my family. Yet despite this, my mother had never imagined her life without her own mother, and this blew threw her core like the cold chill of Midwinter.

A few days ago, my High Priestess heard from her own mother that her step-father, just like her biological father before him, was diagnosed with esophageal cancer. He is in too much pain to eat or drink much of anything other than broth, and even then they have to provide him with strong painkillers in order for him to tolerate just broth. This shook my High Priestess to her very foundation, having to go through this a second time, not knowing if her dad will be coming back home. Prognosis looks bleak, but there's always hope. This is effecting her greatly, and she's barely able to function as High Priestess or small-business owner, or wife, or mother. She's a strong woman, I know she'll pull through, but I am praying that she pulls through with her support system intact.

This past Thursday I received a call from my aunt Judith who informed me that a woman I met back during my childhood, one of my aunt's friends, awoke that morning to find her daughter had passed away in her sleep due to a blood clot from her lifelong brain tumor which she's had since she was a young child...her 18th birthday would have been this March. I ask that you all keep Kathy Swan and her daughter, Desiree' in your prayers as Desiree' makes her transition between this world and the next. Desiree' was a talented artist and a great light and inspiration to the staff at Red Top Mountain State Park. The Goddess calls home the best of us.

A dear friend on mine has been in the hospital since November, and during her hospital stay where she was immobilized, her twin brother passed away as well. She's only just beginning to enter the stages of recovery where she can go to rehab and begin walking on her own again, and I ask you all to keep her in your prayers as well.

I learned also that the original actor for Spartacus (Blood and Sand ; Gods of the Arena) also passed away over the winter due to his fight with cancer.

Death is greedy, all you Necromancers out there, remember that before you decide to use your Craft to help or hinder another.

I'm not sure if I ever told any of you this, but I used to teach Sunday School. I was Pagan then, as well, but I still felt the warm embrace of the God and Goddess in some churches as well. Now I've been to as many as seventy-five different churches all over North Georgia--Southern Baptist, Pentecostal, Lutharin, Catholic, and some non-denominational; in my time with these churches I have met many interesting circumstances filled with very interesting people. What I learned in some of these churches is that not all Christians are negative or judgmental. I have seen Christians and Pagans alike come under one roof and wash the feet of one another in mutual service and humility, humbling themselves before the presence of their respective Deity. Regardless of what name we place on our Faith, beliefs, practices, or Saints or Gods(esses), we are all in service to Spirit--to the All. Any prayer or act done in good faith to help or heal another should always be welcomed.

Over the last two years, even in the pursuit of building my own Ministry (I'm an ordained Interfaith Minister, even though I am Pagan) I have forgotten about those lessons and have gotten lost in the folds of blame and anger and pain and sorrows. Tonight I saw a movie on television that reminded me of those lessons I learned not that many years ago. The movie is called, "The Second Chance." If you get the chance to do so, please watch it. It is a prime example of what true Christianity is all about. What churches are really all about (or are supposed to be about.)

I am proud to be a Minister, and in times like these, the trials we face, it helps to restore the light that helps to guide us along our paths--to see people reaching out to one another in service to Spirit, in service to one another. It reminds me of how much good a single individual can do, working with one person at a time, let alone a whole group of people.

Never forget the Power of One. All it takes is one person to start something wonderful.

I'd like to end this post with a quote I read recently on Facebook:

"You don't have to be great to start something, but you do have to start something to become great." --Author Unknown.

Brightest Blessings to all going through their own trials and tribulations this year, and remember...the flame always burns bright if you just believe. There is always light to be found in every situation, you just have to be open to seeing it...open to receiving its warmth.

Good night, everyone.

-Rev. Jonathon S. Lowe; HP
House of Sacred Mother & Child
Midnight Star School of Witchcraft
Atlanta Pagan Roundtable