Three Wise Women

Here's a Christmas story for you. I remembered this as I was putting up my tree today.

Many years ago, I lived with a woman that was Christian. Well, sort of Christian. Her religion told her she was going to hell since she was a lesbian, but she was still mostly Christian. So as we were decorating our tree one year, she had these ornaments that depicted the three wise men.

And I said, off hand, "I want three wise women on my tree."

She said, "You can't have three wise women!"

Well, I was like, "Why not?"

She said, "There weren't three wise women there."

So I thought about that. Surely there were women there when Jesus was born. I mean, Joseph didn't deliver that baby. Men didn't have anything to do with birthing babies back then. He would have been in the inn, probably getting drunk, while his son was born. Women would have attended Mary.

They would have summoned a midwife if possible, and midwives were wise. You had to be wise to deliver a baby in a barn with no modern medical stuff available and have both mom and baby come through the birth healthy. You'd have to be wise to do that today, and women are better nourished today and have better prenatal care. Plus Mary was a teenager, so her birth would have been riskier than that of an adult woman.

If there was no midwife around, other women would have attended Mary. Most women knew about birth back then. Maybe the innkeeper had a wife or daughters. They could have been wise.

And there were probably some prostitutes working at or around the inn. Who is to say they weren't wise?

There were women there. And if they helped a teenager give birth in a barn and the mom and baby both survived and were healthy, they were wise.

My friend was pretty shocked and upset that I suggested Jesus might have been delivered by hookers.

But the real story of Jesus's birth would have been that women helped deliver him, and it would have been bloody and smelly and, well, real. I know you don't see that in the nativity scene on the church lawn. But I've been at births. I know. And I know the women there were wise.

Samhain Eve

What is everyone doing this Samhain Eve?

I just finished cleaning and decorating my altar and I am listening to Blackmore's Night and getting ready to bake some pumpkin bread. I need to clean the litter box and vacuum my floor, too.

Later I will be communing with Cayenne, my soul cat Eileen who died nine years ago, and perhaps my grandparents and a few departed friends. Or whoever else chooses to show up.

I am also going to decorate the urn Eileen and Cayenne share.  Last Samhain, I put Cayenne's ashes in the urn with Eileen's.  It is a plain wooden box and I have wanted to do something to decorate it for a long time but wasn't sure what.  And I guess just wasn't ready to do it.  Now I am.

I Will Not Go to Midnight Mass

I was interested in going to Midnight Mass. But I will not be going.  

 

I have called six Catholic churches. I live in a small town in the middle of nowhere. There is only one Catholic church in my county. But I called six churches within an hour's drive. At four of them, no one was in the office to ask if I could bring my service dog. At two of them, the person in the office didn't know if I could bring him or not and the person that might know was not available to speak to. I am not willing to drive more than an hour to go to mass and I am not willing to drive 45 minutes to an hour without knowing whether or not I'll be turned away when I get there. And with the person answering the phone at two churches not know if I could be allowed in or not, I don't feel confident that I would. It's quite possible I would, but I don't feel confident about it.

 

I guess I should have planned ahead more. If I would have called last week to ask, I could have probably gotten an answer. And I bet at least one of the six churches would have been happy to have me. But I don't feel like guessing which one or ones that would be.

Churches and the ADA

I was thinking of going to a midnight mass tomorrow, just 'cause I think it would be neat. I am not Catholic but I still think I would enjoy it.

Well, I live in the middle of nowhere and there are two Catholic churches within a reasonable driving distance that are holding midnight mass. There are a few other Catholic churches around, they just aren't holding midnight mass, according to their websites.

I tried to call both of the ones holding midnight mass this afternoon to find out if I can bring my service dog, but no one was in the office at either church. I can try again tomorrow but if I can't reach anyone, then I just won't go. I really wish churches were required to comply with the ADA, but since they aren't, it would come in handy if they included information on their websites about whether or not they do.

Of the people I know that have service dogs and go to church, I would guess at least 25% go to a church where they are not allowed to take their service dog. And I know others that found a new church when their old church told them their service dog was not welcome. 

 

However, I also know a couple people that were given permission to by their clergy to bring emotional support animals to church, which are not usually allowed in public places the way service dogs are, under the ADA. Some churches are really, really accommodating. But others are not at all.

 

If you go to church (or synagogue or mosque or whatever), do you know if your place of worship would welcome someone with a service dog? If you don't know, how about finding out and letting me know?

Happy Solstice

As the spiral turns and turns,

Wind will blow and fire will burn.

Water flows upon the earth

As we dance from death to birth.

Thanksgiving Grace

I thank the Earth, the Sun and Rain

for fruit and herb, root and grain.

I thank the Mother who nourishes me.

May all Her children blessed be.

Happy Samhain!

Samhain, if you don't know, is a pagan holiday that falls on October 31.  It's pronounced "sow-en," not "sam-hane."  It's a time to celebrate our ancestors, sort of the like Day of the Dead celebrated in Mexico.  It's a time when the veil between the living and the dead, between this world and the Otherworld, is said to thin.  It's a time to converse with the dead.  It's also a time to celebrate the darkness, which isn't evil but is primal, fertile, like the womb.

I am doing some housecleaning this morning, then I am going to bake pumpkin cranberry bread, roast pumpkin seeds and make Isaac some pumpkin peanut butter treats.  Later, I will talk to the dead, to my grandparents, to Mike's dad, to a friend of mine that died nearly 20 years ago.  I will put Cayenne's ashes in the little cloth bag I sewed for her and put that into the urn with the ashes of her kitty friend Eileen that died eight years ago.  I will talk to Cayenne and Eileen.  After that, I will deliver some pumpkin peanut butter treats to two of my neighbors that have dogs (Isaac is going to have to share) and leave an offering of pumpkin cranberry bread outside under a pine tree.

Hope everyone has a wonderful Samhain!

Serpent Mound

One of the places Isaac and I went during our little trip was to Serpent Mound.  If you're not familiar with Serpent Mound, you can read about it here. 

It was interesting to see.  After we walked around the Mound, we did some hiking in the woods nearby.

And in a clearing in the forest, we came across this.

It is what looks like some sort of altar at the base of a big old tree.  There is a statue of a woman's face, some antlers (deer, I would imagine), a long stick, and ribbons of different colors tied to a string wrapped around the trunk of the tree.  It was really neat to discover it.  It felt like a place someone had been doing rituals.  I wished I had something to leave as an offering but I had nothing with me.  I did, however, pay my respect by not allowing Isaac to pee on it.

I was really curious about it.  I wondered if the park staff knew it was there.  It was not that far from the little museum/gift shop, maybe a 10 minute walk, so it's hard to believe it hadn't been discovered.  On the other hand, it's hard to imagine the park staff would leave it there or allow people to do rituals on the park grounds, if they knew about it.

I thought about stopping in the museum/gift shop before we left and asking if they knew about it.  But I decided not to, because if they didn't know, I didn't want them to go looking for it and take it away.  So I decided to just let it be a mystery.

Happy Mabon! And Giving Thanks.

Today is Mabon.  It's the first day of fall and a pagan holiday, sometimes referred to as the pagan Thanksgiving.  It's about being thankful for the harvest and for all our blessings.

I had this plan for a small feast I was gonna prepare for myself and then I was going to light some candles and chant and make a long list of all the things for which I am thankful.  But the day didn't quite go as planned due to my terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day yesterday.

But I am still thankful.  So here's a somewhat abbreviated list.

1.  I am thankful for this day.

Is this not the most gorgeous day ever?  Perfect for a long walk with Isaac at our favorite local park.  How could anyone see this beautiful blue sky and not feel thankful?

2.  I am thankful for Isaac.

3.  I'm thankful that, despite a difficult day yesterday, I was able to go for a long walk with Isaac today and do my tutoring and finish two articles I needed to get done.  I'm thankful I knew how to take care of myself and how to move on with what I needed to do.

4.  I'm thankful for my tutoring job.  It's a lot of fun.

5.  I'm thankful for my friends.   All of them.

6.  I'm thankful for all the time I had with Cayenne and I'm thankful that her passing was peaceful.

7.  I'm thankful for my home.

8.  I'm thankful for my car.

9.  I'm thankful for my health, such as it is.  It could be better, sure.  But it could also be worse.  I'm thankful that it's not.

10.  I'm thankful that my dental problems are much, much better.  My gums are still a bit sore but it's so much better than it was, and I didn't have to lose any teeth, either!

11.  I'm thankful for the new printer a good friend got for me recently.

12.  I'm thankful for the new winter coat I recently found at my favorite thrift store.

13.  I'm thankful that Isaac and I have been able to volunteer at the nursing home.  It's fun and it's meaningful and it's work that is real.

14.  I'm thankful for all the food I have stored up in my kitchen for winter, including a few dozen jars of sweet corn and applesauce that I canned myself.

15.  I'm thankful for my electric blanket, which I need to drag out again now that the nights are getting colder.

16.  I'm thankful for the trip I get to take in a couple weeks to visit several friends in a city a few hours drive from where I live, some of whom I haven't seen in many years.

17.  I'm thankful my rent went down recently.

18.  I'm thankful for my bathtub and long hot baths on chilly mornings when my body is stiff and sore.

What are you thankful for?

Cayenne - the Final Day

I haven't posted much about Cayenne's last day because it was painful to do so.  I'm feeling a bit better now, though I'm still sad.

The morning of her last day, I left the windows open even though it was a bit warm because she always enjoyed sitting in front of the open window.  And she did spend quite a bit of the morning there.

I think that's such a beautiful picture of her.  She was such a beautiful girl.

She ate turkey baby food and lots of Pounce cat treats, which were her favorites.

We took a nap together on the couch and I woke up with her resting against my head, purring while she groomed herself.  That was almost my undoing, right there.  I could not bear to think that this soft, warm, purring kitty on my head would be gone in just a few hours.

But I wanted to love her enough to do what was best for her, even if it was hard for me.  And keeping her here would have been hard, too.  Watching her suffer would have hurt me terribly.  If I was going to suffer either way, I was going to suffer knowing I spared her suffering, knowing I did the right thing, know she was at peace.

I talked to her, sang to her, chanted softly to her.  Mostly "from love, into love, carrying only love" and "May you walk in beauty.  Beauty before you, beauty behind you, beauty above you, beauty beneath you, beauty all around you, beauty within you.  May you walk in love.  Love before you, love behind you, love above you, love beneath you, love all around you, love within you.  May you walk in light.  Light before you, light behind you, light above you, light beneath you, light all around you, light within you."

I took a bunch of pictures.  I brushed her with her pink brush.  She's always loved her pink brush.  I petted her.  I cried.

Mike went with me that day, so I didn't have to go alone.  He drove, so I could hold Cayenne in the car on the way there.  Normally I transport her in her carrier but I wanted to hold her as much as possible.  For some odd reason, she chose to ride in the back seat of the car with Isaac for part of the trip.  It really surprised me.  I am so glad I was able to get a couple pictures of her back there with him.

I'd debated about whether or not to take Isaac with me.  I guess I didn't really need him there, but I wanted him there.  I also wanted him to have the opportunity to see Cayenne's body after she was gone.  I thought, and some other dog owners told me, that might help him understand that she was gone and help him with the grieving process.  Because animals do grieve.

If he was restless or needed more attention than I was able to give him at the vet's office, or if his presence seemed to be upsetting Cayenne or causing her any distress, I planned to ask the vet tech to please put him in another room during the procedure.  He was very subdued, though, rather unlike his usual self.  He mostly lay quietly in a corner of the exam room the whole time we were there.

So we got to the vet's office and Mike and I both had time to hold and pet Cayenne before the procedure.  We were both crying some.

They wanted to weigh her so they could calculate how much anesthesia to give her and she only weighed 5.9 pounds.  That means she'd lost about two pounds since May.  A full 25% of her body weight in less than four months!  Hearing that made me cry for her.  I knew she wasn't eating well, I knew she'd lost weight.  But I wouldn't have guessed she'd lost that much.  Poor baby.

The vet came in and was ready to do the procedure and part of me really wanted to just get up and run out of there with her in my arms, screaming... but then I thought of how much weight she'd lost, about how infected her belly looked and smelled, about how sick she was and how I didn't want her to suffer.  And somehow I stayed.

If you've never seen a pet euthanized, it's a really quick and painless procedure.  It's sad, but it's not scary or traumatic for the animal.  They inject an overdose of anesthesia directly into the vein and before the injection is completed, the animal is gone.

I held Cayenne while she got the injection.  The minute it was done, I wanted to scream that I'd changed my mind, that I wanted her back.  I've felt that way a number of times since that day.  But of course, that's not an option.

It was quick and it was painless and it was peaceful.  One minute she was there, resting in my arms, the next she was gone.  Her body instantly became extra soft and floppy, her eyes closed... and that was all.  And I am so grateful, so glad, so relieved that she was able to go peacefully, without pain.

Afterward, I held her for a long time, and talked to her, and kissed her, and cried, my tears falling on soft warm fur.  Mike held her and cried, too.  I let Isaac sniff her, which he did briefly, but he didn't seem real interested.

Then I wrapped her in the cloth I'd purchased shortly before making the appointment, when I knew the time would be coming soon but didn't know exactly when, cloth that was soft and beautiful and just perfect for Cayenne.  I wrapped her in it, except for her little face, kissed her one last time, and then I lay her on the table, on her soft fleece blankie, and I walked away. 

It was hard.  I kept wanting to go back, to say no, I changed my mind, I want her back.  Instead, I got in the car and drove away.

Prayers for Cayenne

As the spiral turns and turns,
Wind will blow and fire will burn.
Water flows upon the earth
As we dance from death to birth.

We have taken,
We give back,
Release all and nothing lack.

We all come from the Goddess
And to her we shall return
Like a drop of rain
Flowing to the ocean.

May the circle be open but unbroken,
May the love of the Goddess be ever in your heart.
Merry meet and merry part
And merry meet again.
Blessed be, blessed be, blessed be.

Celebrating the Solstice at Lake Erie

Yesterday was the Summer Solstice, or Litha to us pagans.  I don't write a lot about spirituality on this blog 'cause that's not really what I wanted the blog to be about, but I am trying to get more in touch with my spirituality, so maybe that will change some in the future.  Anyway, yesterday was a pagan holiday and I decided I wanted to do something to celebrate.

I planned to enjoy a peach and orange smoothie while watching the sunrise, but it was cloudy in the morning, so that didn't really happen.  There wasn't much to watch.  Just a gradually lightening of the gray.  And it was foggy.

Then Isaac and I, along with a friend, went up to Lake Erie.  I packed a picnic lunch with fresh fruit and yogurt and a couple of protein bars.  Our friend is not pagan so I just said we were going because it was the first day of summer.  Whatever.

We had a great time.  We found a fairly secluded strip of beach, which was lovely to walk on.  Isaac found a dead fish, which he thought was lovely to roll in.  He was rolling in it before I even saw the fish.  How gross.  He said it was better than rolling in goose poop.

After he rolled in the fish, I decided to let him off leash so he could swim in the lake and wash off the dead fish.  Because wet dog smell is infinitely better than dead fish smell, right?

I almost never let Isaac off leash except at an enclosed dog park.  I trust him to come back to me, but not to come when I call him.  He'll come back when he's ready to.  Which doesn't always work well for me.  Plus, I didn't want him to bother any other people on the beach, because dogs are not really supposed to be off leash there.  But there were no other people anywhere nearby and, well, dead fish smell.

Here is a picture of Isaac in the water.

He wasn't quite sure about the waves at first, but after a few seconds decided he loved them.  He had so much fun.

He run down the beach as fast as he could, ran back, jumped in the water, swam a little bit, got out and ran down the beach as fast as he could, repeat, repeat, repeat.  He loves the water but I think he enjoys swimming more at the dog beach with other dogs.  He didn't swim all that much all by himself.

Then some people appeared, way down the beach, and he ran all the way down there.  I went after him but of course he got there way before me.  As soon as I got there, I asked if they were afraid of dogs.  I was going to put him back on the leash right away if they were or if he was bothering them in any way.  They said no, of course they weren't afraid, he was a lovely dog and they wished they had that much energy.  No kidding.  Me too.

They had three kids, all preteen or teenagers, that were playing in the water and Isaac wanted to play with them.  They were throwing a ball and of course Isaac wanted to play with that.  So they played a little bit and then I made Isaac give the ball back (he didn't want to) and put him back on his leash and we went on.

We had a really good time.  I love seeing Isaac have so much fun.  He thinks everything is fun and just watching him have fun makes things fun.

Ritual for Coping with Pain

I spend the morning lying on the couch, wrapped in my electric blanket, in pain.  If I lay in this position, my shoulder hurts.  In this position, my arm hurts.  In this position, my hip hurts.  In any position, my feet ache and occasionally a muscle spasm in my feet curls my toes and makes me cry out in pain.   Cayenne curls up on the arm of the couch nearest my feet and Isaac lies on the floor beside the couch, also curled in a ball.  I can hear him shifting position when a muscle spasm makes me cry out.  Otherwise all is quiet.  It is sunny outside but windy and the movement of the trees outside the window casts moving shadows across the wall.

I want someone to come and help me but of course there is no one.  This pain feels like a punishment but I don't know what I've done wrong, other than to be alive.  I understand why people in pain think of death, of euthanasia, of mercy killing.  If Cayenne was in this much pain, I'd have her put to sleep.  I think of Cayenne, who is not in much pain, who is not ready to leave this world, and who needs me to care for her.  I think of Isaac, who would most likely be fine without me, who would bond easily to another owner, but who loves me nonetheless and who I love, who I don't want to leave.

I pull myself off the couch.  I go to the bathroom, plug in my space heater, turn on the tap in the tub.  Add Epsom salts and eucalyptus oil to the hot water.  Light incense and candles, place the candles around the tub.  I put Gregorian chants on my laptop (did you know Pandora has a Gregorian chant station?).  I make tea and carry it to the bathroom, where I undress and then wrap myself in warm, soft towels.  I sit on the soft, fluffy bathmat, lean back against the side of the tub.

I breathe.  I inhale, I exhale.  The pain does not matter so much in this space.  No, I can't stay here forever, but I am here now.  And I breathe.  And I soften.

I pray.  I pray to Yemaya, who is an African Goddess of the Ocean, a Mother Goddess.  I ask her to hold me, to just let me ride the waves and keep me safe and keep my head above water.