I hadn't intended on "coming out of the broom closet" as they say. At least, not the way I had.
The night before Thanksgiving here in the U.S., I went over to my boyfriend's mother's house to help her make pies. She makes two types; a pale type and a darker one. Justin, my boyfriend, favors the light type and I thought I'd help her out (she makes three for her own thanksgiving, and promised five to her church) and learn the recipe all in one fell swoop.
Everything went remarkably well. She's a very well-read individual, very family-oriented, calm, sweet. I've never heard her say anything harsh or even imply she wished nothing but the best for anyone. So I'm not so sure why I was so hesitant about telling her that I wasn't a Christian, other than a presumption on my part. Every devout person I have talked to about it before - and I'll be honest, it's not like I've told hundreds of people, just a handful - they all seemed to react the same way: they insist I need to be saved, that I'm going to hell, and if only I let Jesus into my heart....
Well, you know the drill.
So I assumed that she would act the same. And when the subject of religion came up, I started opening up to her instinctively. I told her that I wasn't Christian; and she turned to me with genuine interest. "Then what are you?"
I smiled nervously, realizing at that moment that I opened the door too far to slink back into the shadows. "I'm Wiccan."
And just like that, I said it.
Sure, it doesn't seem like much. Just two little words. All my previous experiences were there, cautioning me in the background. Inside, I cringed and held my breath.
But she just smiled, shook her head, and continued with her conversation. Just like that. No condescension, no proselytizing. I wasn't treated differently in any way. There was just gentle acceptance. It was quite refreshing.
Ultimately, I learned something very important from that experience. I can't allow my experiences with those who are not as open-minded or well-read cloud my judgment; what they did does not necessarily mean that others will do the same. I allowed an inner shadow to control that part of my life, to generate unfounded fear and to act on said fear. Now that I have recognized the fear and conquered it - even if it wasn't intentionally done - I feel as though a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I can't believe how freeing it is to make such a simple statement. Does it mean I'll tell everyone I meet? Certainly not. But it does mean that I am more willing to reveal that part of myself when the subject comes up, rather than carefully avoiding it. It means that I no longer expect anyone I tell to react in the worst way possible.
I also realized that if I wish to gain something, I have to be willing to risk something. I can't expect to reach a new level of trust or closeness within a friendship if I'm not willing to reveal something personal. I believe it was Birch from the Sacred Grove who said that equal exchange is necessary for those things that aren't necessary, and that that seems to be something that more and more neopagans seem to ignore or refuse to believe. But I think he has a valid point. Everyone has the right to expect the bare necessities of survival, I think, and should feel free to ask their deities for help on that. But when it comes to non-necessities... something must be given to be gained. Equal exchange, even if simply in the form of energy rather than money, should be expected. You can't expect everything for nothing.
I certainly hadn't expected that epiphany for Thanksgiving this year.
