The first thing the warrior noticed was the smell of sage. She lay there, breathing in the comfort of the smell as the fog slowly receded. She moved her head from side to side slowly, scrubbing her forehead on the pillow beneath. She pushed her shoulders upward and was rewarded with a sharp stab of pain. Opening her eyes to a dimly lit space, she turned her head fully. A cool hand touched her face softly, and a familiar melodic voice spoke, "You are home, Tem. You made it."

The hand withdrew, and a face swam into the warrior’s line of sight. Squinting, she tried again to raise herself. The cool hand touched her shoulder, preventing her from rising. "No. Stay there for now. Just focus slowly. You’ve been asleep for a long time. Give yourself a moment to adjust. Your shoulder is healing, but you should not move it much yet."

"Brigit." She croaked, recognizing the woman. "Fuzzy. Dry." The warrior’s throat seemed as dry as the sands in winter. The hands moved, and a straw poked up toward the warrior’s lips. She sipped the water gratefully.

"Not too much, now." she instructed. "Do you know where you are?"

"Home." The warrior said. Unbidden tears sprung to her eyes, and her heart contracted painfully. She pushed away the knowledge that held so much pain, not yet ready to feel. "How bad is my arm?" she asked.

"Bad, but healing. You should be able to draw a bow again before midsummer." The healer answered, tactfully ignoring the tears. "We had to leave the wound open for a few days to ensure drainage of the infection. But that has passed, and the bindings are holding."

"Can I turn over?" Tem asked.

"You can turn to your side for now, and sit up in a few minutes as soon as your head clears. But when you sleep I want you on your stomach so you don’t rub it too much and pull it open again." Brigit helped the woman roll over and prop herself on her other elbow.

Eyes fully focused now, Tem could see the dim interior of the healer’s hut. Brigit offered another sip of water. Tem took it, nodding gratefully. "How long have I been unconscious?" she asked.

"The scouts found you the evening of the Dark moon. She is almost round now. You would have awakened sooner, but I wanted you to sleep to help the wounds heal." The cool hands touched the warrior’s forehead again. "Your temperature seems normal now. Are you dizzy or fuzzy in your head?"

"Not now. That has passed."

"Then I think you can sit up for a little while." Brigit helped the big warrior to a sitting position slowly. The warrior inspected her body, slowly moving her neck and shoulders. The wound was most painful at the edge of her shoulder blade, though there were bandages that wrapped around her chest and upper arm as well. "The spear that wounded you missed your lungs by the span of two fingers. That was lucky. But the tip seemed to have been barbed and dipped in something foul. The wound was badly infected, and you were feverish when we found you. It’s a wonder you made so far. How do you feel?"

"There is pain along the shoulder blade in back, and under the bandage on the front is itchy." Tem told her "But my head seems clear now."

"Good." Brigit took the hand on the injured side and cradled it in her own. "Can you move your hand?"

Tem slowly moved the fingers and rotated the wrist. "It hurts up in my shoulder when I turn the wrist this way." She demonstrated.

"That’s ok. So long as you can move them, the rest will come. I have a putty ball that I will ask you to squeeze with this hand as exercise. That will help you strengthen the wrist after so long not using it." She paused until Tem looked up into her eyes. She held the gaze for a moment. "When you are ready to tell me what happened, I want to know."

The warrior’s throat closed in a physical reaction to the searing pain that flared up within. Her gaze dropped from the concerned green eyes of the healer and onto her own lap. "Not yet, Brigit." She croaked.

The cool hand squeezed her forearm comfortingly. "OK, Tem. I understand." Brigit’s heart contracted in pain for the big warrior. Whatever had happened to her must have been shattering. Perhaps one day Tem would open up to her and explain. In the meantime, she would see to her physical healing. "The Hearth Queen will want to see you. Are you ready for that?"

"I think so." Tem nodded.

Brigit stood and stepped outside the hut for a moment, leaving Tem alone. She stared at her hands, flexing the fingers this way and that, trying not to give in to the memories. Hearing a rustling, she looked up to see the fiery mane of the Hearth Queen ducking through the doorway. She pulled a stool over and sat down, looking Tem over.

"You lived." She smiled.

"Did you have a doubt?" Tem smirked.

"None. But you did." She told her. "You were fevered, and babbling about Dawg bringing you home so you wouldn’t die." The warrior glanced toward the doorway. "Yes, that damn animal is out there. She would have been in here, sleeping on you if Brigit would allow it. As it is, she’s been lying there, outside the door since you got here. Bean finally got it to eat something the other day."

Tem whistled softly and the little brown nose appeared in the doorway. The tail wagged so hard it wiggled the entire dog. She put her front feet up on Tem’s lap and licked whatever she could reach while Tem scratched her ears. The warrior bent to touch foreheads with the animal.

"Out." Brigit’s voice commanded from the doorway. "Now you have seen her. She is alive. Now get out." The dawg hesitated for a moment, and then shuffled out the door. The healer cast a stern look at the Hearth Queen "You know better," she chided, pointing her finger.

"Oh, Brig." Tem said "It was just for a minute. Dawg was worried."

Brigit sighed. "You and that damn dog. Some things never change." She turned to her worktable.

"See that? You’re misbehaving. That tells me you are healing." The Hearth Queen teased.

"All that tells you is that she is still breathing." Brigit’s voice interjected from the other side of the room.

Tem smirked again. "It’s good to be home."

"So…" the Hearth Queen began. Tem steeled herself emotionally. That word always preceded a serious topic. "I sent Bean with two other scouts to follow your trail backward to make sure you weren’t followed. They seem to think that there is no danger to us for now."

Tem nodded, swallowing hard. That meant that they had seen what had happened to her home and reported what they had seen. Tem knew they would have found the burned out remnants of the buildings and the animals. And the graves. Tears pricked her eyelids and she shut them tightly against the hot embers of knowledge. She took in a long deep breath and looked up again. The gaze of the Hearth Queen was kind, but not penetrating. Tem knew that she would not ask for details, and was grateful for the intrinsic understanding. "What now?" she asked briskly.

"A few more days with Brigit, and then you will be assigned to the weapons maker for awhile until you are healed." The Hearth Queen told her. She looked over at Brigit, "is she ready to eat at the main Hearth tonight?"

"Not yet." The healer said. "Tomorrow, probably. For today, she should rest."

"What about Bean?" the Hearth Queen asked, referring to Tem’s oldest friend.

"She can visit later today for a few minutes. I know she has been anxious to see her. But we have tired her out. She needs sleep now." The healer approached Tem with a mug of something and handed it to her as she spoke. "Drink."

Tem took the mug and sipped, knowing it was a sleeping draught. "Bossy." She murmured.

The healer patted her good shoulder reassuringly, and smiled knowingly at the Hearth Queen.

"I will speak with you again tomorrow, Tem." She said, rising from the stool and turning to go. "Behave yourself and do as you are told."

"Like I have a choice." Tem snorted. She rolled gingerly over, nuzzling her forehead into the pillow and slept.

Sometime later, Tem felt a strong presence take hold of and cradle her. She turned toward the comfort and rested her head. A deep, soft voice whispered ‘Sleep, Tem. I’ll take the watch.’ And she slept on.

When she came again to consciousness, Bean was sitting on the stool next to the bed, whittling at a piece of wood. She did not speak as Tem slowly sat up, taking a moment for the fog in her head to clear. She simply kept whittling.

"You got dawg to eat?" Tem looked up into the angular face.

Bean made a rude sound. "I had to go and fish for her. She didn’t want the smoked fish that She kept trying to give her."

"SHE tried to feed dawg?" Tem smirked.

"She doesn’t know I saw her. So, you’re to make weapons for awhile till your shoulder heals."

"That’s what She said. I guess it’s as good as anything. If I can’t go out, I can sit by the fires and listen to stories while I work."

"You want to go there today?" Bean’s look penetrated to pain.

Eyes welling, Tem shook her head. Bean waited patiently. "You saw?" she peeked up into the concerned green eyes.

Bean moved over to the bed, pulling the big warrior to her shoulder. "I saw."

And the Warrior cried.

March 15, 2009 - Yesterday I Cried

by Jenny June Sterling

Sigh. Dammit. Dammit! Dammit! DAMMIT! I just found out my friend Jennifer has stage 4 breast cancer. Although I can count on one hand the times I’ve spent with this friend, we have a special bond because 1, we share the same name, 2, we both have sisters named Amy, and most significantly, 3, we both had still born baby boys on February 12th. It was a year ago that she lost Clayton and in between that time she became pregnant and gave birth in January to a beautiful little girl. At her 6 week check up they found the cancer. Death. Birth. Cancer…all in the space of a little over 365 days! So last night, I cried. I was overwhelmed with grief and I cried.

I cried for Jennifer.
I cried for her husband Adam.
I cried for Gwen and Greta.
I cried for Dave and Josie and Zeke and Oliver.
I cried for Clayton and Grayson.
I cried out of relief that it wasn’t me.
I cried out of guilt that it wasn’t me.
I cried because I didn’t know what to say to her.
I cried because there is nothing to say.
I cried for all of the mothers, sisters, aunts, cousins, grandmothers and daughters who face this.
I cried because even if you live to be 100, life is still too short.
I cried because today is not a good day to die.
I cried because there are no guarantees.
I cried because faith can be so hard.
I cried because in the end, our mortality brings meaning to life, but that doesn’t make it suck any less.
I cried because cancer has become so common it is has become cliché.
I cried because I can’t help her.
And in the end, I cried because it is all I can do.

I cried for hours, until I just couldn’t any more. Then I curled up in my bed and knew that I would never be the same…

Has your life been touched by cancer? Brushes with death and mortality? We all must look into the eyes of the Dark Mother at some point. Please share your stories at rcgi@yahoogroups.com. Not a member? Membership is free via www.rcgi.org.

-By Jennifer Sterling: a Goddess mother of 3 who has adopted the motto: "What I do today is important because I am spending a day of my life doing it."

March 1, 2009 ~ The Warrior's return

Blood oozed out from the edges of the bandage that lay over the burning wound in her shoulder. It felt warm and sticky as the hot sun dried it on her skin. Her tired legs continued to move automatically, her labrys' thumped in a soft heartbeat on her back as she walked on. The dawg tagged along, keeping her silent company in the daytime and serving as silent sentinal in the night.

She scanned the far horizons, looking for movement. She thought she was close enough to her ancestral lands that she should encounter the scouts soon. So far, she had seen only small groups of feeding deer and the occaisional small animal rushing away from her path.

As her route had taken her around the Eastern edge of the Great Water and turned North, she began to notice softly rolling hillsides, now dotted with scattered patches of delicate spring greens. In the mornings, she had begun to notice mist in the air in the direction of the lake, indicating a warming trend. Soon the succulent dandelions and chive would be in evedence.

The late winter trek had been dangerous but necessary. The outpost home she had inhabited for the past many turns in the woods of the flatlands had been destroyed by invaders. Everything she had built there was sadly gone in a few horrible moments. She blinked away the stinging tears as she thought of it. She had loved that place, and would have stayed there happily until she died.

But circumstance had conspired with the whim of a greedy and unfeeling monster to destroy the comfort and peace of her home. Her anger burned as hotly as the wound in her shoulder. She wondered how badly her heart had been maimed. If and when she made it to her homeland, the healers would be able to help her regain use of the arm and rebuild her ragged spirit. She longed for the comforting presence of the Hearth Queen.

She dragged her mind away from the pain, lest she spend too much of her precious energy in the grief. She needed all the energy she could muster for her physical body now. She was close to home, she could tell. She must make it, or she would surely perish.

A small noise at her side made her glance down. The dawg's tail wagged, her warm brown eyes looking up. She had brought a stick for the Warrior to throw. She smiled. The dawg was a good companion, bringing her consistently back to the present. She tossed the stick and the dawg bolted away, chasing it.

Her legs ached with the strain, she wanted to just sit down and sleep. But something in her mind knew that if she did so, she would surely die, so she trudged on.

As the sun reached its zenith, she noticed a slight movement at the ridge of a distant tall hill. She stopped walking and looked intently. She couldnt see anything now. But there HAD been a flash of movement. She was sure of it. She behind with her good arm and pulled one of her weapons forward. If it was a scout, the reflection off the metal and the shape of the weapon would identify her, and they would come. If it was an enemy, she would need the blade. She held the labrys up, the blade high above her and waved it to make the sun gling off the blade.

She waited. The dawg came to her, curious. She did not look down or take her eyes off the spot where she had seen the movement.

After a few moments, a figure emerged from the grass, and stood. The figure pulled a weapon from behind and waved it in the air as the warrior had done. The warrior grinned as she realized that the sun glinted off a blade identical to her own. She had found the scouts! She dropped the weapon with the last of her strength and collapsed. The dawg licked her face to no avail. She was spent. As she floated off into unconciousness, she smiled. She had made it home. They would take care of her until she healed. She would live.

February 17, 2009 ~ A Message from Spirit:Grayson’s 2nd Gift
~The Adventures of Kalimama

Last year I wrote my blog about my son Grayson. He was stillborn on February 12, 1997, (see archives to read that blog). And, honestly, I did not intend to write about him again this year. But something happened that made this year different from years past.

Grayson’s birthday this year was like every year. Nothing spectacular happened, at first. The day proceeded the same as it does every year: Dave and I woke feeling emotionally vulnerable and full at the same time. We lit candles like we do every year in honor of Grayson and we gave each other a lot of extra hugs. We pulled out his ultra sound photos and scrapbook and spent the day remembering his little life, the lessons he taught us, and the importance and power of love.

Although the day proceeded just as it does every year, just as we were getting ready to go to bed we got a phone call from my sister. My sister, who was due to have her 7th (and presumably last) baby the beginning of March, went into labor instead on February 12th, Grayson’s birthday. Okay, that’s kind of cool and weird and interesting and all, but that’s not all. Not only was her baby born the same day but she was born at 6:15pm, the exact same day AND time as Grayson!

Okay, that is weird!

I mean, it’s got to be more than a coincidence, doesn’t it? So I am taking it as a message from the void, from Grayson, from Spirit. Not sure exactly what the message is, but it seems one of hope, of renewal, rebirth, the end of an old cycle and the beginning of a new one. And of course, a message that we are all connected…for truly we are, are we not?!

I received so many wonderful emails from many of you in the RCG-I community that I felt it was important to share this with you all as well!

And so I share the blessings of hope and renewal to each of you that has been our gift this Imbolc season.

-By Jenny June Sterling, goddess mother of three, and spirit mother of four.

February 1, 2009 ~ A chance for a real change

So.....

For all of the years I have been here this time, I have viewed myself as an outsider. In fact, I have prided myself on the idea that I have lived outside the bounds of the Patriarchy. For much of my life, I have distained all that is part and parcel of this society.

However, I have oddly always considered myself a patriot. I have always admired the core ideals upon which the U.S. system is built. And so, like most of you, I have marched, and protested, and boycotted, and voted. I have voted in every election since 1976. I think in those years I have missed two primaries and one interim general election.

And so I would have voted in this last election anyway. I would have done my duty as I always have, reading the positions of the candidates and choosing the one I thought best. But something happened this year. Something unexpected. As this election progressed, I came to believe that it was a turning point for our country; a one time chance for the ideals I have so cherished to become manifest. I was infected with hope. I was caught up in the mantra "yes, we can." And in the end (or is it the beginning?) my candidate won, for only the second time in my voting life.

Each day I have watched as President Obama (I still grin a little when I say that) has taken the reins and started to steer. So far I am impressed. And I have been brought to the realization that his election is truly only the beginning. Still in Washington, the voices of negativity and greed ring out, cloaked in the rhetoric of fear. Still, greed hides in every corner, awaiting it's turn to bite at our heels. Yes, there is hope today. Yes, a new day has come. But in order to help this fledgling new morning become manifest, we must ALL assist its birth.

We must assist it with our expectations, with our steady belief, with our steadfast refusal to go back into the old ways, the old times, the old attitudes, the old arguements.

I call upon you, my sisters, to renew in your heart and your life your willingness to collaborate, your openness to the ideas of others, your positive energy. I call upon you to become involved in whatever way you are able. By writing letters, making calls, getting involved in your local areas. Because at this moment in the UNiverse, we have a chance to do even more than a stimulus package, end the war in Iraq, renew protections of civil liberties and renew our commitment to the idea that we do not torture. We have a chance to make a real and lasting change in the way our society functions, the way it sees its leaders, and the things it expects from its government. I for one will do everything I can to assist this new era in its birth, physically, mentally and magically.

Here's to the future. Here's to hope.

Jan 15, 2009 ~ Dreaming in the Deep ~The Adventures of Kali Mama

I had a dream last night. I was on a small island. In my dream I was walking around the perimeter of the island, along the shoreline. I walked in a counter-clockwise direction. And as, with each step I took I moved the wheel of life. Each step moved the Wheel – Winter-Spring-Summer-Autumn; day became night became day.

I was intently conscious of each step I took and how powerful that step was. Every time I propelled my self forward, The Wheel turned.

I was concentrating heard on my task and was just about to turn the Wheel from Dark to light and from Winter to Spring when I heard a voice tell me to "stop!". I halted in the dark and cold and turned to face the center of the island, the direction from which the voice came.

At the heart of the island was a female figure made of a black amorphous smoky material. She reminded me of the Sidhe – she was covered and I could not see her face. She communicated to me that I had to stay "in the deep" longer; that there was something important I need to find there.

And then I woke up.

Upon coming into consciousness I heard these words: "You are exquisitely beautiful."

And that is what I am dreaming these days of cold and dark….

What are your dreams this deep dark Winter, my dear sisters?

Please share them at rcgi@yahoogroup.com.

By Jenny June Sterling~ Goddess mama of 3 who is currently searching for something important in her deep dark night of the soul.

Jan 1, 2009 ~ THE NIGHT After Solstice

'Twas the night after Solstice, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;

We'd lit the yule candle, and performed our rites

And gone upstairs to enjoy Mother night;

The teenagers were nestled finally in their beds,

While visions of ipods danced in their heads;

And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,

Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,

Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow

Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But all our grown children, their pets and their gear!

With a skinny driver, so angry and quick,

I knew in a moment it must be son Nick.

More rapid than eagles to our door they came,

And he cursed, and shouted, and called the storm names;

"The Ice storm has knocked out the power all over!

Our apartment is dark, and the pipes freezing over!

To the top of the porch! And in through the door!

They trudged into our home, wet dog and all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,

So up to our house the children they flew,

With a car full of stuff and Son Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard from upstairs

The stomping and running of the teenagers there

As I drew in a breath, and was turning around,

Down the stairs they came crashing and tumbling down.

They were dressed in pajamas from their heads to their feet,

but they were excited; a sleepover treat!

His little black dog Nick had perched on his back,

And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

Dont worry, we said, our heat is still on!

You can stay here, of course till the storm has all gone!

His wife smiled and went to the fireplace to stand,

she stood stamping her feet and rubbing her hands;

The kids brought down blankets and got Nick a beer,

then they all starting talking at once, Oh Dear!

We slipped away and left them to their fun,

Went back upstairs to await the new Sun.

It lasted nine days, this outage of ours

And I cooked and I cleaned and I smiled anyhow;

On day three the cable wire was snapped by a tree,

and then we had lights but no phone or tv!

The young ones got bored in a wink of an eye,

For the internet was down too--they thought they would die!

I went to the basement and scrabbled around,

And hooked up an old antenna I'd found;

It got only three channels but it helped quite a bit,

And I taught them to play scrabble, monopoly and Whit

And several days later, when all was restored,

they'd learned that games used to be played on a board!

They all straggled back to their heated abode,

And the young ones went to Daddy's and we were alone!

We wandered about for awhile in a fog

And then slowly we smiled and broke out the Grog!

AS great as it was to have everyone here,

We both were exhausted, our heads weren't clear

So we went back to our beds and turned out the light.

and said
"Happy Solstice to all, and to all a good-night."

December 15, 2008 ~ Birth of an Environmentalist
or
How Zeke Saves the World, One Animal at a Time

Me: Zeke, what do you want to be when you grow up?

Zeke: A street sweeper.

Me: But, Zeke, I thought you wanted to work with cheetahs?

Zeke: Yes, Mama, I do, but there won’t be any left by the time I am big.

Shit. Shit shit shit!

How depressing is that? It was a real conversation I had with my son back in September. He is only 5 and is a passionate animal lover. Since that conversation I have been teaching him how he can help to protect animals, what he can do. We talk about everything from pre-re/cycling to buying less to raising money to learning everything there is to know about different animals and their habitats. We’ve learned about Jane Goodall and Steve Irwin. We’ve read tons of books and we have a jar on our table in the living room that is decorated with animal stickers. Every time he does a job he gets a quarter which he can put in the jar. I drop change in it regularly, and so do his siblings. All of the money goes to the World Wildlife Fund to help save animals. Between raising his own money and through a bake sale (where he baked cookies that I sold at the Mother House) Zeke has raised nearly $50!

On Solstice Eve will are going to do a family ritual with the intention of protecting animals around the world. We will ritually package up the money he’s raised and send it off to the World Wildlife Fund. I am teaching my kids how to change the world through actions and through intention.

If anyone would like to help Zeke in his quest to save all threatened and endangered animals world wide, you can contribute via his "Panda Page" – a page he has set up through the WWF. Simply go to www.worldwildlife.org. Search for "Panda Page". The name of his Panda Page is Cheetah Boy. The actual address is: http://wwf.worldwildlife.org/site/TR/Events/PandaPages?px=3529489&pg=fund&fr_id=1040

You can also visit our blog at http://cheetahboyz.blogspot.com where I chronicle Zeke’s passions and learning.

May each of you have a blessed and Winter Solstice and a joyful New Year.

~ By Jenny June Sterling – goddess mother of three and ardent naturalist and lover of animals!

November 15,2008 ~The Adventures of Kalimama~
Will Power

An ex-Amish woman recently shared this bit of parenting "wisdom" with my mother; she said that the Amish parent by "breaking a child’s will, but not their spirit". Now, if you have ever seen Amish children in a store, you could attest to the amazing wisdom of this parenting philosophy. They are well behaved, seemingly happy, and not crying and begging for every colorful toy or piece of candy that catches their eye. And yet….

Something doesn’t sit well with this parenting approach. I have been thinking about it a lot lately. I struggle with finding balance in parenting ~ I want my kids to be creative, but when they creatively paint the bathroom wall with my new (and expensive "organic") hand lotion, well, I’ve got to draw the line. There seems to be a thin grey line between creativity and chaos. Between allowing my children to express their individuality and having lost complete control as a parent.

But "breaking a child’s will"? I don’t know. To be honest, I am not even sure what that means. What is a person’s will? We use this word a lot in our culture - "will power", "willful", "willingness", etc. But upon examining this further, I realize that I can’t put my finger on what exactly the will IS??!?!?

The dictionary gives me this bit of insight:

will [wil]n. 1. The mental faculty by which one deliberately chooses a course of action; volition. 2. Self-control; self-discipline. 3. A desire, purpose, or determination, esp. of one in authority. 4. Deliberate intention or wish.

will [wil]v. 1. to decide, bring about, or attempt to effect or bring about by an act of the will: He can walk if he wills it. 2. to purpose, determine on, or elect, by an act of will: If he wills success, he can find it. 3. to give or dispose of (property) by a will or testament; bequeath or devise. 4. to influence by exerting will power: She was willed to walk the tightrope by the hypnotist.

Hmmmm. So does breaking a child’s will mean to break them of individual desires, purposes, or determinations? Where is that line between allowing my children to have their own desires and be the master of their own power and between guiding them or being in control of them? For instance, they can desire ice cream for dinner, but they aren’t going to get it. I want to honor their desires and at the same time I cannot allow them to attain all of them indiscriminately. Nor is it necessarily healthy to do so. Over indulgence creates a parenting nightmare: the proverbial "brat".

So, where is the line? Where is the balance? For now, I have to live with the fact that my children are at times wild, but that is because I have not only allowed, but have cultivated, their individual wills. Far from breaking their wills, I have reveled in them. At times, I struggle greatly with the power of wills - their desires vs. what has to be done (example: they desire to play at the park when we have to go home to eat dinner, etc.) and they can be very, very willful, i.e, very expressive about what it is that they want (read: temper tantrum), but in the end, though I sometimes wish they were less headstrong, less intractable, they aren’t.

As a witch, our individual will is the source of our power. It is the power of our intention and to bring about the change in the world that we desire. Desire is part of the Charge of the Goddess and our will is something that is a blessing, not something to be broken and destroyed. For now, I will live through the power struggles and temper tantrums and continue to guide my children by encouraging them to develop their wills in healthy ways. Perhaps my new parenting mantra will be: "cultivating a child’s will as an extension of their spirit"