It's Not Easy to Be a Love Goddess

Angela wanted to have a "normal" family, so I did my best. We decided I was a "Life Purpose Consultant" who kept appointments with my clients in the evenings so as not to conflict with their regular working schedules. We decided Angela's father was tired of his roaming days, and he came home one day to reconcile with his family and stay.

Darian was certainly willing to make the sacrifice of manifesting himself visibly now, minus the wings, of course. It had been necessary to do so more and more as Angela had grown, anyway.

And we decided to move the furnishings of the Temple to a new location, so Angela could have her friends over without embarrassment.

Angela was very happy, enjoying her schoolwork and her new social life.

I didn't want to push her, but I occasionally offered a little nudge.

"Please feel free to invite boys here," I told her. "Your father and I would be happy to have an excuse to get out of the house for a while," I hinted.

Obviously, I had given up on the idea of a tutor. But, remembering my own adolescence, I figured that if she could have the opportunity to be with some boys, they would stir up the gifts residing in her, and she would be able to develop them.

However, she didn't take to my suggestions.

"Mo-om," she whined. "I know what you're trying to do. Forget it. I'm not that comfortable with boys. I wouldn't know what to do with one if we were alone."

"But you'd figure it out," I urged. "I know you would."

"Don't nag me, Mom. Hey, maybe I'm a lesbian or something."

I coughed, choking on a bite of the apple I was eating.

"Just kidding, Mom!" she laughed, and left the room.

"Well," I thought wryly. "I suppose one could be a goddess to females."

It wasn't like I didn't accept that expression of sexuality. It just wasn't my preference. Somehow, I didn't really think it was Angela's either. But this daughter of mine sure was stretching my belief system. What next?

* * * * * * * * *

Well, Angela remained true to her convictions, and didn't even date during high school. Nothing I said would convince her to open up to her gift. She just kept insisting that she was not ready yet.

There were times when I felt very sad about this. Like Barry, it seemed to me that she was shutting so much goodness and joy out of her life. She was literally refusing the grace of the Golden Axiom, and the vital energies of the Cosmos.

I worried about her. I didn't know if her body would be able to stay healthy without the active golden cords running through it. She did not like the effect she experienced when Darian or I tried to send them down her body through her head, so we had to stop offering them.

"Oh Darian," I lamented in his arms one night. "How can she refuse all this? The ecstasy, the joy of being naked in your embrace, the fountain of bliss that rises up within me at every communion!"

"I know," said Darian sympathetically. "I know. Just give her time. Give her time."

* * * * * * * * *

Angela decided to go away to college when she graduated. She really did want to be a veterinarian! The parade of dogs and cats, guinea pigs, rats, mice, hamsters, and birds through our home in her high school days had been notable; and now she wanted to formalize her service to them.

At the end of her first year of undergraduate work, she came home for the summer. Of course, her old bedroom was waiting for her. I heard her in there humming one day.

I went to her doorway, and there she was, looking in her mirror and humming to herself. There was a flush of radiance in the face looking back at her. And I suddenly knew.

I waltzed into the room, took her hands, and twirled around and around with her, grinning and crowing.

"You . . ." I began.

"Yes," she grinned sheepishly. "I . . ."

I sat her down on the bed.

"So?" I prompted.

"So . . . there's this really smart junior who offered to help me with my lit homework, and we spent a lot of time at the library together, and he's really smart, and I . . . like him."

"Yes . . . and?"

"And, that's all there is to tell. Except that his name is Sam and I . . .think we might get married some day. Not right away, of course. Maybe after we graduate."

"Married?" I squeaked, trying not to belittle the word.

"So . . . you two, of course, have consummated . . ."

"No," she broke in, looking away.

Then she forced her eyes back to mine. "No, we're waiting."

Shades of Barry again. What was this world coming to??

"Oh," I said, trying to hide my disappointment, with little success.

"Mom, I wish you could be happy for me," she whined. "Most parents would be ecstatic to have a daughter like me! Most parents would thank their lucky stars their daughter wasn't out banging boys every chance she got! Most parents would like having a daughter who studies books all night!"

I became very quiet. That hurt.

"I'm sorry, Mom." She was suddenly contrite.

"I didn't mean to sound so bitter. I didn't mean to knock your profession. I really didn't. I know it makes you happy. It's just that...well, I'm not you, and I never will be. I'm not telling you not to do what you do. I'm just . . . asking you to appreciate what I want to do . . ."

"I know," I swallowed. "I'm trying to understand. I really am. It's just all so . . . foreign to me."

She hugged me then, and I remembered the afternoon Barry and I had said good-bye. The tears flowed, as I realized that, this time, I couldn't just walk away from this person. This time, I had to find a way to live with this sorrow every single day.

* * * * * * * * *

Angela did indeed earn her bachelor degree. She had applied to veterinary school, and would begin attending after the wedding.

"Well, Mom," she tried to explain it to me. "A wedding is kind of like a Blossoming Feast; and the goddess is the bride, and the prince is the groom. And they stand in front of the priest . . ."

"The priest?" I queried.

"Yes. It's like a male priestess, sort of. Except he doesn't have sex with people . . ."

"Then how does he administer the sacraments?"

"Well, he does it another way. I can't exactly explain it all. But he says a lot of words, and things they call prayers, and pronounces us husband and wife."

"Okay."

"And all you have to do is sit there. Then we have a meal and a party with dancing . . ."

"And then we all accompany you to the Altar of Consummation and strip off your scarves and garments, leaving you naked to enter into the hallowed rites?" I enthused.

"No, Mom. That's where the similarity to the Blossoming Feast ends. Then you all throw rice at us, and we leave in a limousine to the hotel where we will spend the night."

"Oh."

I was trying to be a good sport, but it wasn't easy.

"And please wear something modest to the church, Mom. And please don't flirt with the priest!"

"All right," I acquiesced. "But only because I love you so much . . ."

We had to make a visit to the mall to find me a gown, as nothing in my closet was acceptable to Angela.

* * * * * * * * *

The wedding went off without a hitch, and the new bride didn't have to know I had made a date with Sam's second cousin for a "consultation."

Now, at least I could breathe a sigh of relief, for Angela was finally giving herself permission to receive the sacrament she had put off for so long.

She didn't say much to me afterward. I suppose she felt rather overshadowed by my experience, and was characteristically secretive and shy about her first encounter with my realm of expertise. But she indicated it had been rewarding for her.

Once again, I had to accept that I could not share with my daughter some of the mysteries I most cherished.

Darian, of course, was a perfect angel at the wedding, and throughout this ordeal. And, I daresay, not a woman sitting in that church failed to appreciate the charm and grace exuded by the father of the bride. I was not the only member of our family who had the effect of honey on the bees of this planet.