Meeting Your God Kids

I’ve already been informed that I’ll be a mama mambo, when the time comes: someone who can be a godmother.

Godmother means a lot more in this culture than it does elsewhere. It means I’m who will get called when one of my children fucks up. I’ll take the hit for them, if they cannot take the consequences of their actions. I’ll be who has to help them deal with the fallout, the person who smooths their path or makes it rougher, so that they can learn.

To date, I’ve met five of my god kids. Five!

I wept the other day with joy, sitting in front of the altar, at being given so many people to love. So many!

Meeting them is interesting. We recognize each other like a shock that does not quite settle—we don’t see someone we’ve known before, not a familiar face, we see something that we are drawn to. I can see it on them, on the way they feel compelled to reach out to me.

It feels for me like a desire to spend time with them. It feels like joy at their existence, no matter who they are.

I recognize it now more quickly, and it makes me want to grab their hands and tell them who I am. I don’t, of course. That’ll happen when it happens, but there is enormous joy in recognizing them.

I see you and I stand ready to love you, as the spirit tells me how.