my witching hour
There is a phrase I've heard, called "the witching hour" and it was in regard to babies who have a fussy time of the day. When we started parenting, we called it the "squalk and walk" time of day, meaning no one could settle in for the night until the baby settled in. When I googled "the witching hour" it spoke to the time of day/night when the supernatural powers were strongest, meaning witches, etc. I guess I maintain that if there is a "witching hour"....it is also the "hour" when the powers of God and the heavenly are also at their strongest.......
I'm gonna write about my witching hour. (its over 60 minutes)
Precious Maryn turned 7 on Sunday. She started First grade on Tuesday. Tuesday night she thrashed and wailed because she had kept a lid on all of her feelings all day. She needed about a half hour to hate everything and everyone......and then I diffused lavender and cedarwood oil, I prayed for her, I read her a book and I rubbed her back.....and we avoided a "witching hour".
Today she took home 2 books from school library. They both had the faces of black historical girls on them: Harriet Tubman and Sojourner Truth.....she said she chose them because she wanted history books. We had bedtime snack, brushed and flossed her teeth, said prayers and started to read. Do you know the stories of Harriet Tubman and Sojourner Truth? Slave children who were abused, beaten, kidnapped from their families and re-sold to other plantation owners who treated them badly. Both made it to freedom.....Harriet ran away and Sojourner was purchased by a Christian Quaker couple who bought her freedom....Harriet spent her free years working the underground railroad to free slaves and Sojourner preached freedom and equal rights for not just Black Americans but also women of all races......and in the Wednesday nightness of our first school week of this school year......I not only read these stories to my child but I entered the witching hour of my anger and overwhelming sadness.....because she listened to the words.
"But mom.......if I was living then, would I be a slave too?" "Mom.......so satan was the boss then right?" "Mom.....how did it stop? " "Mom.....what did Abraham Lincoln look like?" "Mom.....why did the mean slave men take her from her parents? Did she ever see her parents again?"......Did you know that these young "slave" girls were sold to plantation owners....and sometimes the 9 year old girl was tasked to keep a newborn baby from crying in the night so that her mother could sleep. If the crying baby woke the mother up, the mother would whip the slave girl. It's true. I read it tonight. To Precious. She was listening intently so I couldn't skip pages.
Tonight is my witching hour. I wish I could erase history and all of the evil and pain and hardship that we created in our country.....because the results of that are everywhere. It is my witching hour because God has called white me, from my white family, to parent black children and somehow help them navigate the senselessness of the pain and aweful history of this country. I have to help my child understand that her legacy comes from slavery to poverty to God's intervention to adoption....and beyond....to being an agent of change for the future. This kid, who is snoring peacefully beside me tonight......is a Harriet and a Sojourner. She is a change agent. She is an appointed prophet for the future....because God Himself called her Precious....and as a 7 year old child, she snuggled next to her white mother and listened to stories of slavery. And freedom.
I am not important. I am only the vessel that God will use to move her to her destiny....and my witching hour is the pain and anguish I have to find a place for tonight, so that I can go to sleep and put to rest the awefulness of her past in this country. She is not an adopted African or Haitian child....she is Black American and her ancestors were likely slaves. My witching hour exists every time she and I discuss this and work through it. This girl.....she is special. My witching hour will be her launching pad......so I better get used to this hour.....
I'm gonna write about my witching hour. (its over 60 minutes)
Precious Maryn turned 7 on Sunday. She started First grade on Tuesday. Tuesday night she thrashed and wailed because she had kept a lid on all of her feelings all day. She needed about a half hour to hate everything and everyone......and then I diffused lavender and cedarwood oil, I prayed for her, I read her a book and I rubbed her back.....and we avoided a "witching hour".
Today she took home 2 books from school library. They both had the faces of black historical girls on them: Harriet Tubman and Sojourner Truth.....she said she chose them because she wanted history books. We had bedtime snack, brushed and flossed her teeth, said prayers and started to read. Do you know the stories of Harriet Tubman and Sojourner Truth? Slave children who were abused, beaten, kidnapped from their families and re-sold to other plantation owners who treated them badly. Both made it to freedom.....Harriet ran away and Sojourner was purchased by a Christian Quaker couple who bought her freedom....Harriet spent her free years working the underground railroad to free slaves and Sojourner preached freedom and equal rights for not just Black Americans but also women of all races......and in the Wednesday nightness of our first school week of this school year......I not only read these stories to my child but I entered the witching hour of my anger and overwhelming sadness.....because she listened to the words.
"But mom.......if I was living then, would I be a slave too?" "Mom.......so satan was the boss then right?" "Mom.....how did it stop? " "Mom.....what did Abraham Lincoln look like?" "Mom.....why did the mean slave men take her from her parents? Did she ever see her parents again?"......Did you know that these young "slave" girls were sold to plantation owners....and sometimes the 9 year old girl was tasked to keep a newborn baby from crying in the night so that her mother could sleep. If the crying baby woke the mother up, the mother would whip the slave girl. It's true. I read it tonight. To Precious. She was listening intently so I couldn't skip pages.
Tonight is my witching hour. I wish I could erase history and all of the evil and pain and hardship that we created in our country.....because the results of that are everywhere. It is my witching hour because God has called white me, from my white family, to parent black children and somehow help them navigate the senselessness of the pain and aweful history of this country. I have to help my child understand that her legacy comes from slavery to poverty to God's intervention to adoption....and beyond....to being an agent of change for the future. This kid, who is snoring peacefully beside me tonight......is a Harriet and a Sojourner. She is a change agent. She is an appointed prophet for the future....because God Himself called her Precious....and as a 7 year old child, she snuggled next to her white mother and listened to stories of slavery. And freedom.
I am not important. I am only the vessel that God will use to move her to her destiny....and my witching hour is the pain and anguish I have to find a place for tonight, so that I can go to sleep and put to rest the awefulness of her past in this country. She is not an adopted African or Haitian child....she is Black American and her ancestors were likely slaves. My witching hour exists every time she and I discuss this and work through it. This girl.....she is special. My witching hour will be her launching pad......so I better get used to this hour.....
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