Parenting a child of another god

There was a time when my kids went along with my earth-centered holidays joyfully. They even spoke with vibrant interest about the ancient gods I taught them and showed gratitude for the gifts of the earth.

But as they have grown past toddlerhood and seen the values promoted by the rest of the world, their tone has changed.

My eldest, 11, recently asked me, “Mom, why can’t we be Christian?”

Photo by Arie Farnam

“You can be a Christian, if you want to,” I replied. Really. I’m so over it by now.

“But I don’t want to go to church. That’s boring,” she continued.

“Well, Christians go to church,” I explained. “And some churches are better than others. Grandma knows about a fun Christian summer camp you could go to, if you really want to know about being Christian.”

“No, I don’t want to go,” she says. “I just want to be a Christian because Eveleigh is a Christian.” Eveleigh is a seven-year-old YouTube celebrity with billionaire parents in the movie industry and her word is law to my daughter.

“You can believe whatever is right for you, but if you just say you believe something because of a celebrity, you will end up not knowing who you really are.” I caution her without much hope that she’ll pay any heed.

“I don’t believe in anything!” she states emphatically.

“I understand,” I reply. “You’re eleven. You don’t have to know what you believe yet. And when your life is easy and you have everything handed to you, you generally don’t feel the need to believe in something. That’s normal enough.”

“I mean I do believe in God. I just…” she trails off.

“Which one?” I.can’t help it. I’m a brat.

“I guess I believe in all the gods and goddesses,” she muses. “I just want to be normal and do what is popular.”

I’m silent for awhile thinking. Finally I admit, “Honey, in some places it’s very fashionable for teenagers to be Pagan and do energy magic like I do. I don’t do it because it’s popular, but it is in some places.”

“Only in your imagination,” she snarls.

A few days later, the issue of what to do with my husband’s inheritance from his mother who died four years ago is finally resolved. He managed to buy a small studio apartment in the city, which he can rent out. Someday it may be a starter home for one of our kids, if one of them gets a job in the city as a young adult.

My daughter rushes to me, eyes wide and aghast. “Mama, can’t you stop him! Don’t let Papa do that! He’s so silly. He doesn’t even think at all. He has this money and he could buy a Lamborghini with it, but instead he buys this stupid apartment that isn’t even fancy or big. Stop him before he wastes that money!”

Later the same day, she’s doing her homework. English is technically her second language, because her Czech is stronger, so she has to ask me the meanings of lots of words. “Greedy? Mama, what’s greedy?” she demands.

I explain, “It’s like when someone wants everything all to themselves and doesn’t want to share.”

Her eyes light up with excitement. “I’m greedy!” she declares with relish. It’s a new word for her, mind you. She doesn’t recall having heard it used negatively. It’s just the concept she likes.

We’re having homemade pizza for dinner, one of her favorite foods, so I laugh and give a timely example. “You can feel greedy, but you can’t actually have all the pizza for yourself.”

She screws up her mouth in disgust. “Eww! Disgusting! I’m not eating that. It has peppers on it!”

I’m momentarily boggled, even though I’ve been practicing rolling with the punches. “You always said you like our pizza better than restaurant pizza and you like peppers.”

“No, I don’t!” She insists. “The Norris Nuts don’t like peppers or any other vegetables. So, I’m not eating them anymore.” (The Norris Nuts are multi-millionaire Australian vloggers, in case you missed the memo.)

“I thought you did everything Eveleigh does and she likes vegetables,” I venture.

“Ewwww!” My daughter screams in a long drawn out paroxysm of disgust. “Eveleigh is a stupid baby! She’s only seven. I like the Norris Nuts.”

If your first thought is that she is just a weather vane and if I introduce her to Greta Thunberg’s wildly popular videos my woes will be erased, I’ve already tried that.

She quickly pointed out that Greta is not ostentatiously wealthy and she does not have all the cool stuff and she doesn't laugh at people who aren't as cool as her—all disqualifying sins for celebrity worship apparently. My daughter does change up her celebrity. obsessions every few months, but her values don’t change and they haven’t changed since she was two.

She is all about fashion, glamour, wealth, popularity, immediate gratification, luxury and leisure. Essentially her values are the exact opposite of mine.

Some parental critics will be quick to blame her somewhat self-serving values on me, as her parent. Either I must have indulged her a lot and not taught her healthy values. Or conversely I must have been too strict and tried to force my values on her too much. You can’t win with parental critics, no matter what the actual facts.

There was a time before she went to preschool and learned that not everyone is like me, that she morosely went along with my values. But even then, it was clear that it didn’t come naturally to her.

She welcomed earth-centered holidays as long as there were presents for her involved. When she got to an age where some sort of reciprocity is encouraged, she became defiant and then disgusted with holidays.

I continue to model and teach healthy and compassionate values. My kids never get in more trouble than if they are cruel to an animal or a vulnerable child. I insist that we recycle, conserve water and electricity, grow a vegetable garden, buy ethically and otherwise live as low on cruelty and consumption as possible, given the constraints of finances and the society we live in.

My kids and I snuggle in bed before sleep and discuss their experiences and conflicts between kids. I listen. I continue to celebrate earth-centered holidays and offer prayers of thanksgiving before meals, though sometimes I keep my practice silent to avoid family conflict and ridicule.

This morning as In engaged in my daily spiritual practice, which includes tending a symbolic flame and well for the goddess Brighid, I had a surprising insight.

I didn’t choose to follow my path of compassion, healing herbs and writing because of Brighid, but I did heed Brighid’s call to her service readily because she has particular interest in this kind of work.

Brighid’s virtues are my values and when I start feeling negative, I focus on Brighid and try to emulate her virtues of warm nurturing, acceptance of difference, healing and hearth keeping. And that is actually not that different from how my daughter treats her celebrities. She also studies their virtues, devotes time and energy to decorating her space with their images and symbols and tries to emulate them.

This led me to meditate on how modern celebrity culture may in some ways be a response to the deep need for spiritual connection that used to be filled by a variety of Pagan gods and goddesses that people could personally relate to.

Several things suddenly make more sense.

My daughter is not one of Brighid’s people. Not only is she adopted and not of Irish or even of broad Celtic background, she is not drawn to the values of Brighid. That is part of what has saddened me. We cannot help but have a little wish that our children will be like us at least in some spiritual way, if not in the outer trappings.

Instead my daughter’s genetic background is at least in large part from India. I have always tried to build a bit of a relationship with Hindu gods and goddesses, giving offerings and learning some traditional chants, in order to build a connection to my children’s genetic heritage. But it hasn’t been easy. I get along with Saraswati alright but the rest of the Hindu pantheon is… well, foreign to me.

I don’t feel them the way I do so many European and Native American goddesses and gods. I always wondered if this was partly because Hinduism is such a vibrant living tradition and I am reticent to step on any toes or be culturally appropriative even in private.

But I don’t feel exactly the same about Native American goddesses. I grew up on Native American land and was always keenly aware of how my ancestors had stolen that land. Native American spiritual traditions are in no way “my heritage” and yet I have always felt strongly drawn to some of them, pulled to study them and make offerings of symbolic restitution to them.

So, I could have as easily felt a connection to the Hindu goddesses. But I have had to struggle to feel any connection to them and have done so mainly out of a sense of need and duty.

As I thought on this, an intense, vivid and uncharacteristically live image of Lakshmi, Hindu goddess of wealth, luxury and beauty, invaded my mind with palpable force.

Aha! I think I get it now. My daughter is not Brighid’s. Perhaps she is Lakshmi’s. That would explain a lot!

I don’t know that I can teach my daughter about Lakshmi. I have tried at times but she has even less interest in Hindu spirituality than she has in mine. But at least I can see her values in a different light.

It is hard for me not to see my values as good and healthy and hers as bad and selfish. Compassion is good. Ridicule is bad, is it not? Hospitality is good. Greed is bad, is it not? Healing is good. Vanity is bad, is it not? Hard work is good. Luxury-seeking is bad, is it not? Endurance is good. Immediate gratification is at the very least weak, I feel sure.

And yet, all of these are in some way values associated with Lakshmi, a goddess widely viewed as the very heart and soul of joy and happiness.

I can’t in good conscience let my daughter indulge in things I know to be unhealthy or cruel, but I can see her being drawn to these things as just part of being one of Lakshmi’s humans. And I can hope Lakshmi will watch out for her.

There is another Hindu goddess I feel sure has some interest in my daughter, given that beyond glamour queen, her other common setting is one of destructive rage. On many days, she may demand to be treated like a pampered princess. But when she doesn’t get her way, she starts screaming and throwing things. Her face twists into a very good impression of Kali Ma.

I know it isn’t impossible to raise kids with healthy values. I’ve seen kids who grow up with a strong interest in environmental and social justice as well as day to day compassion. Sure, kids are morally immature but some of that often plays out as good-hearted idealism.

Yet as I become a more experienced parent, I am learning that while we can help by exposing kids to healthy values, it isn’t something parents have control over.

We as parents only get to plant seeds and weed gently. We don’t control the “soil” of DNA or the “weather” of the culture and media our kids grow up with. Some people homeschool in remote areas, keeping their kids in a “greenhouse” environment where that weather has little effect. I have often wished my circumstances and/or spouse offered me that choice, but there are no greenhouses that hold young adults. With parenting, there are no guarantees.

Kids have their own minds, their own paths and apparently also their own gods.

My daughter may decide to call herself Christian or she may decide to explore Hinduism or something else connected to her genetic heritage. But I tend to doubt she will do any of that. This isn’t really about her religion. On some level, I think gods may lay claim to us, whether we acknowledge them or not.