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Raven (yes, really), a pagan, homeschooling mother of two -- one teen, one tot -- shares her adventures in parenting from a pagan perspective. Watch her juggle work, education, parenting, cooking, gardening, and . . . how many balls are in the air now? Sometimes they fall, and sometimes she learns from her mistakes. You can, too.

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Answering the Call

As the spring wakes us from our winter sleep, beneath the urge to wash away the lingering dregs of the previous year, I stronger call to give pulls me sideways.

I cannot shake the experience of the week past, when driving home from a friend's house at sunset, I encountered a detour two blocks from the turn I needed to make.  A firetruck blocked three lanes on a major road, and as I followed the other detoured vehicles I glimpsed the accident.

Someone was placed onto a stretcher.  Something wasn't right about what I saw on the ground.  I can't tell you what it was because even as I looked, my mind erased it.  That's only ever happened to me once before, and I know what traumatic thing my mind prevented me from seeing the first time.

I asked my friends and fellow witches to do what they could: prayers, healing energy, etc. to help the people in the accident.  Whatever horrors I couldn't handle seeing were things they'll have to live through. Without knowing who the people are, this was as much as I could offer at the time.

One message came through from this: it's time to heal others.  Not just myself.  Not just those I know and love.

This coincided with a casual comment made to me about an increased awareness and calling for many people at this time -- a call for some to take up more healing work.  To surrender to being dragged through the shadows where to gain wisdom.

It also coincided with weeks of living in fear of the messages I knew awaited me.  Much like avoiding the bills or answering unpleasant emails, I've spent the last several weeks since the winter holidays, drowning out my mind's insistence I check in with my guides, to meditate, and get back into a steady routine, by staying up late watching shows with my teen and spending my free time playing puzzle games and doing unnecessary research in the name of "all knowledge has value."

But even as I've worked to avoid it, the hints arise.  An article about a temple made of human bones makes me wonder how many spirits remain trapped and require a psychopomp.  A series of news reports offered by random people all seem to share in a theme: heal us, help us.  

As Imbolc comes this night and through the morning, I know it's time to the open the bills, answer the emails, cleanse myself of the doldrums holding me back, face my fear of the unknown, and finally answer the call.


Blessed be and a rejuvenating spring to you who live in the Northern Hemisphere.

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Raven lives in a forest with her two homeschooled children, partner, and several demanding cats. She enjoys performing, cooks a mean burger, and is obsessed with farming, but has yet to adopt a goat. Her publications are listed at


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