For years I have worked with my ancestors. For years I have worshiped them and honored them and served them. For years I have offered them my gratitude and my devotion. And in all of those years they have blessed me and demanded from me. They require much, and they offer what they will. I have always been respectful and deferential to them.
For the past ten and a half months (since my daughter gave her permission last Christmas) I have been making offerings to my ancestors every day. I have been praying to them to grant my child the child that she was seeking. I have been doing a spell for the child to bring her into the world in strength and beauty, honor and grace, wisdom and power, love and purpose, and joy. Less than three months later she was conceived. My prayers remained the same, my spell remained the same. Almost three weeks ago, she was born, eight weeks before she was expected. Still my prayer has not changed, my spell has not changed.
I dreamt about the child a couple of weeks before my daughter told me that she was trying to conceive. I had a vision of her a couple of weeks before she was conceived. In the past three weeks I have dreamt about her often. Then, last night I attended a ritual in which I had the opportunity to call to my ancestors and to hear what they would say to me. I have always been deferential to my ancestors, always respectful. But last night something changed.
Last night, I did not ask. I did not beseech, I did not make requests or prayers. I did not call to a single ancestor, I called them all. And once I stepped forward, I did not wait to hear what they would say to me. For the only time in my life, there was something more important than that. I had called them all and when they came, I presented her to them. I called out to them to claim her as their own, as their blood and as their bone, as the future of their bloodline and their fate. I called out to them to vow their protection and their guidance and their blessings to this child, because she is here, now. She is mine and she is theirs.
And when I was done, I heard them shouting in my ears, a great chorus of them claiming her and vowing as I had called them to. I will give them whatever they require from me. They will continue to have my gratitude and my devotion, my service and my respect, my honor and my offerings. They have vowed that which I required of them. I give thanks.
Blessed be my ancestors, and their “Starry One”. So Mote It Be.