Looking back on my childhood, I can assuredly say that I started on the path of becoming a Witch around the age of 10. I say that because it was at about that age that I began to naturally develop and to strongly rely on the techniques of the "mind" that I employ in my practice of the Craft today. I feel that I was born to embrace the "Old Ways" as they have come completely natural to me these many years.

  Admittedly, I had the predisposition for magick my whole life. I played at making spells and potions while down by the creek below my house. I always had a “magick wand” or a "sacred staff" that always seemed to have just come to me on it's own. I believed in ghosts, fairies and unseen things. These beliefs felt comfortable and, without a doubt, it all felt very natural to me.  

  I was taken (forced) to go to church as any child in my position would have been. I went to Sunday School, children’s choir and some other music programs and actually didn’t hate it all. I liked the music. I just didn’t like the way the doctrines of Christianity seemed to be forced onto people. If it was all about love, then why was there so much condemnation and fear and seeming outright hatred?  

  I was taught the Bible and I taught myself to question it, if even only in my own mind. I basically believe now, as then, that the old testament is Jewish folktales. While some of those events may have actually produced the end result spoken of, I don’t take the stories literally. As I have often put it, “History becomes Legend...Legend becomes Myth.”  

  Anyway, I grew and was a good child as I am a good person now. Then, I believed in Heaven and Hell, as I had been presented with no other options. And, I knew the difference in right and wrong. Often, I would hear the preacher say things in church and I would think to myself, “Why would God do that?”. I “believed”, I just didn’t believe in quite the same way as I was being taught (forced). 

   (Now, I believe that there is an afterlife. I believe that we will go into the darkness and that we will begin to search for the Light. We will encounter all of our short comings of life as "demons" as we search for the Light which is true communion with our sacred Mother Goddess.)

  When I was 14, yet came another “Spring Revival”, an event rivaled in my personal disgust only with that of “Vacation Bible School”. As usual, I was taken (forced) every night to go and sit there. Adults had talked to me about joining the church for years (usually at events like these) but this year was to be different.  

  I once heard a visiting preacher say that if we didn’t tell all the savages in Africa about God, then they would go to Hell without ever having heard the gospel. I thought to my young self, “That’s not right!” Neither did I, nor do I,  believe that you must become part of a Christian church to have religion in your life. Organized religion is a fine thing for some, just not for everyone...not for me.

   Then came Monday night; opening night of the terrible event that I dreaded on a yearly basis. I was taken (forced) to church and there I sat. The atmosphere and timbre of the place and the event itself was “thick” and “fearful”, something that I hadn’t really experienced before. I made it through that night and was taken back home.

  The next night, I begged “feeling bad” and was grudgingly allowed to stay home. I stayed with Granddaddy and watched TV and didn’t fully expect what was coming, even if it was par for the course.

  At the appointed time, Mama and Nanny came home and immediately started fair to shrieking at me and crying and violently telling (no shrieking at) me how I was going to Hell. Even at 14, this made me cry as I felt that I was being literally verbally attacked! Finally, Granddaddy said in a strong voice, “Opal, the thing for you to do is hush!” And slowly she did and mama did too. I remember those exact words of Granddaddy’s even today. How could behavior like that encourage anybody to join a religion?! 

  Wednesday came and I thought that the storm might have passed. I was taken after school to my grandmother Vera’s house to stay, as was the usual fair. I hadn’t been there for five minutes until she started the same drabble; elevated speaking but not really shrieking, crying, but not quite hysterically. I finally managed to somehow make her stop. I don’t really remember if I cried again or not. I think that I did while saying, “Leave me alone! Just stop!” She did stop after a moment and I knew that it had to be all over now, I mean, that was everybody..?

  Then came Thursday and a day that I will never forget… Mama picked me up from school and as we started home, she turned to me and said, “Preacher Flynn wants to come and see you at 4:30” . My heart absolutely sunk! I thought that this was never going to be over. I knew that I couldn’t show fear or disgust; I had to stay strong! I turned to her with a contrived smile and cheerily said, “Okay.”

  After I got home and into my yard, I had the distinct feeling that I had to “make ready”. I retrieved a match from the house and hid it in my pocket. I took a plastic bowl that I played with at the creel and acting on pure instinct alone, I went around the yard and gathered a few small flower blossoms and leaves. I remember that there was forsythia, mock orange, circis (an undefined purple blossoming plant) and a piece of something dull red, probably redbud. I made sure that no one was watching as that seemed to be important as well.

  When all was gathered into the bowl, I went to the creek and knelt down. I lit the match and burned all the blossoms and bits which I had collected. When all had burned out, I poured the ashes into the water and watched as they were carried away. I also had the strong feeling that I should say something or ask for something or make a statement of some sort, I just didn’t know what. At any rate, I also clearly remember thinking, “Now everything will be okay!” I had a clear feeling of relief.

  Soon, Mama called out and said to come in. Preacher Flynn had come and was waiting. In all fairness, I did like Preacher Flynn. He was a nice man when he was being just a man and not a preacher. He collected rocks, like I did and he had brought me some things from the Holy Land in earlier years (which I still have). But there he was now in full preacher mode.

  We all came into the den and sat. Again, I will have to admit that Preacher Flynn spoke evenly and in a friendly manner. He told me things from the Bible and then he asked me to sit close to him on the hearth. I clearly remember this next part too: He said a few more things and then he said, ”If you believe this, all that you have to do is to take my hand.”, and he held out his hand to me. I remember thinking, “I fairly do believe all those things that he just said and if this is all that he/they want me to do, maybe if I just go ahead, it will make them leave me alone...” .

  So I took his hand and he smiled. Then he prayed and he left. Then mama wanted to pray, so I sat next to her and she did. Then I went back outside and ran down to the creek. 
    I was able to breathe now and I wanted to get into the small and shallow water and wash myself off. I wanted to be free of the poison and lies. It was over at this point…

  I soon joined the church and was baptized in the normal fashion. That has pretty much been the end of that story. Once it was all done, they all seemed satisfied and at least stopped persecuting me about such things. It’s not that I lied, because I did believe. It’s not so much either that I did something that I didn’t want to do back then, I just didn’t think that it was necessary. Religion is great support system. I just think that people present it wrongly and use it as a weapon.

  The things that I was made to feel in those times and in those years were nothing less than desperate horrors! I viewed each and every advance on my spiritual life as an outright attack! That is how those people came at me; and family members were the worst ones! 
   
   Why would anyone want to be part of a religion when someone is screaming at you? Why would talk of brimstone, death and suffering delivered in a bleating voice entice anyone in to joining anything? Why was it told to me in such a way that it was to be feared and not be enjoyed? What is the purpose of screaming and crying your eyes out, when there is supposed to be joy? I  just don’t get it…  

  Blessed Be the Goddess for the fact that I found Her!

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