They’re Already Witches

I’m outside in our small suburban backyard while my kids play, quietly frustrated at the lack of garden and outdoor altars I haven’t had time to build, wondering if I should spend these few moments when no one wants my attention in meditation or prayer or writing or reading or… I’m overthinking it, as usual. But my kids? Fully in the moment. Embodied, doing their work, present. My son, freshly four years old, is carrying buckets of soil all around the yard. One toddler twin (they’re almost a year and a half) is wandering around with a large wooden spoon, experimenting to see what she can scoop with it. I look up from my phone and see them both frozen in place, staring up at our still bare trees. They’ve found a cardinal, singing loudly and proudly, and they’re admiring it. Tempted to turn this into a teaching moment, I bite my tongue and follow their example, watching and listening. After the birdsong stops for a minute, my son tries to sing back the cardinal’s call as he resumes his work. The littlest one yells at the tree happily, trying to get it to continue. I’m tempted to try and sing along, but my neighbors are outside too and I’m tone-deaf and shy.

A few minutes later I’m googling for the thousandth time what flowers I should try to plant along the edges of our yard, trying to consider light and wildlife hardiness, safety for the kids and neighborhood cats, food for the pollinators, and hoping to find something my brown thumb can handle. This is a fairly witchy task, full of arguably too much intention, but my daughter is bent over the small, joyful bunch of daffodils that have managed to bloom here, blowing kiss after kiss. We model waving hello to the plants we notice, but I can’t recall ever having taught her to blow kisses to the plants. No, this is her own natural response to spring’s first blooms. As I sit worried over the wording of my devotions, my daughter who speaks about five words has expressed everything so simply: I love you. Here’s a kiss.

We’re all born a Witch. We’re all born into magic. It’s taken from us as we grow up.

~ Madeleine L’Engle

My kids, all kids, are already witches. My version of Pagan parenting is mostly exposing them to the magic out there, the magic they are, the magic people can work in community, and then giving them the tools and the time and the trust that they’ll work it out themselves. They already know everything we, the converts, have had to relearn. Pagans seem to be allergic to passing down their Craft; I suppose it has something to do with concerns over the religious teachings many of us encountered growing up. But I firmly believe in sharing what we know and do. Everything I work so hard to achieve as a religious Pagan and Witch– presence, focus, communion, embodiment, will, creation– they wield with natural grace. I’m just doing my best to keep the rest of the world from crushing it all out of them. Like a tiny acorn, everything we need to know and do is inherent in our being. I’m passionate about tending the seeds so they can reach their fullest potential- Tending the Descendants.

This blog is a lot about me. It’s also about my husband and kids. It’s about my learn-as-we-go adventure as a witchy mom. In the time BC (Before Children) I was a public school teacher, so educational and developmental theory informs some of my approach. Nearly twenty years of study and practice along Pagan paths fill in a lot of the gaps, or at least provide some direction. I’m passionate about raising quality people, and my goal is to help provide much needed resources, conversation, reflection, and community for Witches and Pagans who are also parenting young people. If you’ve found yourself reading this far, come on in. Take off your shoes, and don’t mind the crayons everywhere. The kettle’s on.