I was a good Christian. I was raised in the faith and washed in the blood, just like you are supposed to be in the South. I was raised back and forth between Southern Baptist and United Methodist. When I came of age, I learned about Hell and was told I must be baptized. My parents were elated I had chosen to join the church, but which one, Baptist or Methodist? In my community Baptist church I was told I would be baptized in a pond, which I believed to be snake infested. No, no thanks. In my father's Methodist church I would be sprinkled. I liked that idea a lot better. And so I was. I had many of the same experiences as any other Southerner, going to church, vacation bible school, singing (which I loved), and going to youth group. All was well until I got my first bible, which I began to read and then ask questions. The pastors didn't like my questions. Where did God come from? Who were his parents? Do I have to obey my parents if I believe what they say is unjust or stupid? Did Jesus ever rebel against his parents? Why does it say, "made in OUR image?" Who are the others in the flock we know not of? Why was the Old Testament God so vengeful? Why should I fear god??? Why could I not love this beautiful Earth??
Since I was little I remember being in love with this Earth. Her flowers, plants, trees, animals, rocks and rivers and the garden and the way things grew, even the smell of the freshly turned dirt. I was taught in church that it is okay to trash the Earth because it was ours to use, but not our true home. That was in Heaven so we could destroy and exploit the Earth all we wanted, cause the world was evil. I know now, so was that type of thinking. And on the other hand my Methodist church said to be good stewards of the Earth, something I continue to try to do.
I also asked what happened to the old gods? Why does it say not other gods before me?? Who were these gods? I was told that when Jesus died, and descended into Hell, prior to his resurrection, that he killed all the old gods. Anybody else ever heard this??
I don't think I began to talk to the dead until after my Oma (German for grandmother) died when I was seven. I then began to dream of her. I was a woman of faith even then. I remember praying to Jesus to please deliver my messages to my Oma, as I poured out my little heart on how much I missed her. I believe then, as I do now that the dead hear us and want us to talk to them.
When I went to college my father literally dropped me at the front door of the United Methodist Campus Ministry at what was then USL. He met with the pastor who promised to watch over me. I remained active in campus ministry threw out my college career. I married during my college years to a man named Mike, who was abusive and a sex addict. I met him at an ecumenical campus ministry conference. I am not afraid of Hell, because I lived in it for the 6 1/2 years we were together and married. Several people, including clergy, councilors and a few trusted friends knew about his addiction. None offered either of us a way out or offered to help. And yes we did seek counseling at least four times during our marriage. I remember once being told I was passive aggressive and given a little sheet with a cartoon on it, about how to be more assertive, and that was the end of our session. No one, including me, knew about the abuse. I did not understand until I left and began a round of very intense counseling, that I had been mental, emotional, verbally, financially, and sexually abused by him.
His addiction and unwillingness to touch or have sex me, without begging, was a wound I bore alone for most of our marriage. I believed and was made to believe it was all my fault. Only two of our friends knew of his addiction, and how I had to beg. They were the two men I trusted the most in the world at that time, and it took me a long time to trust them enough to tell them. I knew I was in hell, and continued to desperately try to find a way to make it better. I did as I was told and submitted to him being head of household, just like my church and my bible told me to. It did not help. It occurred to me that no one was coming to rescue me. I had to rescue myself.
Buddhism started that process. His Holiness the Dali Lama was very popular about that time, in the late 90's. I walked past his book in the library, called "The Art of Happiness." I checked it out. I was soon devouring everything I could on Buddhism, more from Dali Lama and then Thích Nhất Hạnh. I joined a small Buddhist discussion group at a local book store. I was still a Christian, but I was looking for anything to help me with my daily life and the fact that I was severely depressed and often suicidal. I was not a good Buddhist. I never learned to become a vegetarian, but I understood all life is suffering and that there was a way out of this suffering I was in. I continued my Buddhism until around the fall of 2001.
I left Mike in the summer of 2001. I was broken. After so many years of abuse I was not even sure that the ground under me would hold me. I kept my Buddhist beliefs and my non-Christian thoughts to myself for fear of being fired and ostracized from my community. Christianity became like a shoe that was too tight.
Into my life came Maddie. Oh how I loved her! Maddie was a door greeter at Wal-Mart. We began to visit every time I went. We were becoming fast friends. One day I noticed that she was wearing a Triquatra. I saw it and asked her about it. "That's a Triquatra, isn't it? Like on Charmed??" I asked. She quieted me and told me that she was a witch. I was fascinated.
About that time I started dating a fellow named Charlie. He began to take me to his Baptist church. I reconverted, and was later baptized in that church, as they did not recognize sprinkling in the Methodist church as salvation. During this time of trying to date Charlie, Maddie and I were hanging out. She is still one of the coolest people I know. I wanted to convert her. She ended up converting me. I did horrible things to her, like drag her to church and ask her to pray aloud in public. Maddie never got mad at me, and took it all in stride. It was Maddie who would eventually introduce me to my current husband Jay.
Somewhere in here I need to tell you the story of Jerry Fairbanks. Jerry ran a wonderful shop in town called the Thundercloud Trading Post. When I first came out of college I liked to hang around Jerry's shop. He was an Ojibwa Medicine man. I have a degree in Anthropology and several of my classes were on Native Americans. I have always been fascinated by their culture and in college learned how they were mass exterminated by this country. I felt deeply connected to their culture and deeply sorry for what had been done to them. I loved the way they revered nature and their elders. Jerry was wonderful in that he let me ask him questions, especially about his religion. Jerry even married Jay and me. We became what is known as Wanabees, aka want-a-be-Indians. So I guess I was outwardly Christian, and deeply interested in both Native American Spirituality and Wicca. I was double betting.
Jay and I moved to Sabine parish for work and I kept up the Christian thing there. In the fall of 2005 Hurricane Rita hit and we moved back to Caddo Parish, to our current location. I had my 30th birthday in the spring of 2006 and I decided I was going to do two things I had always wanted to do. I changed the spelling of my name and I wanted to become a witch. So I rang up my old friend Maddie, and asked if she would teach me. Maddie always had this wonderful peace about her and I wanted that.
Maddie began to take me to my first rituals and set me on my course reading my first books. The first book I read stayed with me, even if the title didn't. It said if you want to be a witch or a pagan for that matter, you have to be strong. Be prepared to lose family members and loved ones, who will either not like what you are doing, accuse you of Satanism, or if they feel justified disown you. I have lost family members because of my faith. I have been asked not to come on certain family members property. I refuse to live my life or lose my faith, because people refuse to understand and / or afraid of me. If you are not prepared for that, step away now.
I started with Wicca. In those early days I began to search for my patron / matron gods. Maddie gave me a wonderful saying, "sometimes you pick your gods and sometimes they pick you." I began to do research on different gods. Finally one night I thought, there must be native gods of Europe, so I Googled it. And sure enough there they were. I ran across a pamphlet, on-line, published by a Heathen group. It said if you are interested in Native American spirituality you may be looking for the gods of your ancestors. My ancestors came from Germany so I started there.
Ilsa
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