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Mountain Ancestors Grove, ADF

Prairie Tidings: Our Church's Blog

Appreciating our Loved Ones

6/17/2015

 
Yesterday, we took my children to the airport to send them across the country to visit their father for six weeks. After all the laundry and packing was done last night, we spent the better part of the evening preparing for the transition. There were tears and long hugs, and after a restless night’s sleep, we left for the airport by 8:00am.

The airport process for unaccompanied minors is a well-oiled machine, mostly because they have the parents stay with the children right up to boarding and meet them on the other side as soon as they disembark. I wasn’t aware of this part of the show until I checked them in, and I have to say, I am grateful for the additional time we had with them.

Since the plane was delayed by an hour, we shared one final meal at a little airport restaurant. Surrounded by large screen TVs boasting every kind of sport imaginable, we were able to relax into one another’s company and the eventuality of their departure with grace and a calm strength. It’s amazing how food can bring such peace when shared with loved ones.

As I look back on the tears shed and the emptiness that still sits heavily in my chest, I am struck with the beauty of the statement, “absence makes the heart grow fonder.” We all have, at some point in our lives, had a reunion with a loved one after time spent apart and had a chance to reflect on the joy of sharing our experiences from our time apart with one another to enrich the together part of our journey.

Absence gives us a chance (opportunity to practice) to explore the true nature of our feelings toward our loved ones, the depth of our love and the admiration for their unique character traits and the things that make them special to us. How amazing would it be if we could learn to do this while yet in their company?

As my children sit happily in their father’s home and share meals around his table, I sit quietly around mine with Rev. Badger and reflect on the joy and love that I am blessed with every day, because I have three amazing children that mean the world to me. Their laughter and their tears, their triumphs and their lessons, their love and their disappointment, everything they experience and share with me is sacred and shapes the nature of our relationships. When they return, may I have the wisdom to keep experiencing them on this level of heightened awareness and appreciation for the beautiful gifts they are. 

Bone-Dust Covered Vocation

6/1/2015

 
"... I've had the dust of the bones of someone's child on my hands," I said to my partner. 


Yesterday was quite a day.


You see, Rev. Missy and I are hosting her hearth-sister, someone I've met only once, who has traveled from Ohio to Colorado with her late-daughter's remains, that they may be enshrined at a sacred Fire in a hand-made memorial urn, forged by a dear friend, and local blacksmith.


Only meeting her once, I'd have never expected her to hand me a beautiful box containing her late daughter, asking me to be the one to transfer her into her final resting place in the orb-shaped urn. Dumbfounded, I fumbled for something to say... and I managed to find the right thing:


"Of course."


I sat for a while with this strong woman, holding what's left of her child, boxed in her hands. We spoke of arrangements, and I told her how the rite would unfold. Gods be good, I was able to hold space for her during a loss so dreadful, that I cannot begin to imagine knowing it's depth. How could I? I have no children of my own, and up to now, I've never had a partner with children.


After washing and purifying, I set to the task of filling a small memorial locket with some of the cremains for the bereaved mother, and then getting the rest of this child into the urn. It was slow. Preternaturally slow… a moment of time suspended between the mundane and the miraculous. One interred  a sense of peace came over me, knowing that this child had finally come to be in a safe place. I can’t explain why… it just was.


The time for the rite came, and it was beautifully filled with beautiful words over a horn across our Fire, tears shed from unimaginable grief, and a remarkable omen: Othala, Gebo, Fehu.


As is custom of our host's home, we filled the horn again and began symbel. Such things were spoken that to write them would cheapen them... some things are meant to be spoken and heard, not read.


Once things were said and done, I adjourned to our host’s kitchen, where I stood quietly, staring at my hands. Reflecting on my vocation, I was mesmerized by my hands… hands that earlier in the day ran chainsaws, swung axes, and weirded hammers as we prepped wood for a weekend camping retreat. Were they worthy of being gently dusted with the remains of someone’s child? Was I worthy?


Funny thing is, that doesn’t matter what I think. I was seen by the only person that mattered as the right person for this role. It was a blessing and honor to help in such a deep, meaningful way, tying my wyrd and fates to this moment.


If I’m to have bone-dust on my hands forevermore, may my efforts bring as much healing and peace to those in need.

    About the Name: Prairie Tidings

    One of the many names for a group of Magpies is "a tiding" of magpies. In 2015 this blog was used as a place for Rev. William, and Rev. Missy to share their experiences as church leaders, as well as goings on at the grove, opinions, and essays. After we got some dedicants trained in our unique work, it was unanimously decided by our board of directors to open the blog to all members of our church. So, we're a group of "MAGpies" (a tiding) sharing news, happenings, and our thoughts (tidings) with you all. 

    Thank you all for your continued support and interest in our work!

    ​MAGpies, please make all blog submissions to Rev. William, as he's managing the website. 

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