Of Faith And Unicorns
I’ve received a dazzling gift. Only took me forty years to get it.
At the age of fifty-nine, I found a new capacity to appreciate Mom, to forgive her, and to love her. There’s a new quiet at my center.
I do not believe fear of hell is the same as faith, but in her terror, Mom succeeded in pounding shame into my soul. To my great surprise, I’ve finally rinsed away most of the taint.
Evidence of my new health comes as a bit of a shock. I put away my cross pendant. Instead I’m wearing a silver unicorn.
I was in college when Mom gave me the unicorn. Now I understand that she had begun to pay attention. She noticed I liked unicorns and tried to connect with me. She loved me. She was sorry.
At the time, I needed the anger that provided my strength and my boundary. I was nice to her but refused to let her touch my heart. While I couldn’t afford to appreciate her gift, I didn’t throw it away either.
I have since learned from many good-hearted people. I sought knowledge and perspective, and I built healthy boundaries. Anger faded. I allowed Mom’s gift to reach through the decades and touch me with her love.
I am part of the Creator, and the Creator is part of me. I can respect and even revere the sacred within me. I am strong enough to keep false shame from squeezing my faith into something small and sin-obsessed.
I believe in big love. All-encompassing, understanding, forgiving, accepting. Delighting.
I still believe in the cross. My unicorn is bigger.