Musings on Things Pagan

On another blog I read, a contributor posted a query about the real stories that make up the pagan religious experience. I'm paraphrasing here, but in essence, she didn't want the stories about ceremonies or covens, but the individual relationships and experiences that make up the religious experience---the first ritual someone led, or the first time someone emerged from the sweat lodge.

So, here's mine. And it's not about a ceremony or a coven (I'm a solitary thus far) or anything magical...well, except to me. :)

Those who know me know I had a difficult pregnancy with wee one. It was fine until about 22 weeks, then everything went awry and putting it all in a nutshell, we consider ourselves lucky that she's here at all. But I had a scare at 21 weeks that I think (looking back) was a warning of what was to come. I had to make a run to the hospital L&D because of some symptoms which could have been very serious, or not.

So I get there and I get a very perfunctory exam from the harried doctor on duty (not my regular OB) who basically patted me on my head and dismissed me like the over-wrought first time mom he assumed I was. As I was walking back to my car, I kept worrying, though---I just couldn't make anyone understand my gut feeling that something was not right, and if the doctor wouldn't believe me, who would?

And I prayed. I'm not a big prayer person and I wasn't sure then if anyone was listening, but I prayed. I prayed that my daughter would survive, I prayed that my gut feeling was just a worried first time mom's imagination gone wild and I prayed for some calm and some wisdom to deal with all of the above.

And Someone heard. I can't describe it any other way. But I heard a female voice tell me that my daughter would be okay, and I felt enfolded in a mother's arms. And then I knew: this was Her. And I knew then that I couldn't turn away.

Oh, I fought it for a few more months---I had other things on my mind (like the remaining ten weeks of my pregnancy and the first five weeks of my daughter's life in the NICU.) But when life calmed down somewhat, I sought Her again. I'm still seeking. And I don't think I'll ever stop. It's a path without an endpoint in sight.