Back to Shrine

Back to Shrine

Called back? No.

There is no clarion call. No insistence. No dinner bell. No ultimatum.

There is simply an open door. A constant, unconditional welcome. The promise of never being cast away, no matter how much time I spend away.

My shrine cabinet is covered in dust, my tools in need of repurification. But I can always open that cabinet and look upon Their faces, my Netjeru, my family.

They do not accuse. They do not guilt or shame. They will wait without reproach until my next prayer, my next senut, my next offering.

All this jumbled worry is generated and perpetuated by me, not Them. I project human expectations and limitations on Them, then have to remind myself that They are gods. They judge me by how closely I follow ma’at, not by tallying my appearances in shrine. I may be able to disappoint Them, but it will surely take more than a little dust to do so.

It has been six and a half years since I was divined a child of Nebt-het and Hethert-Nut. I know that other Kemetics, other children of other Netjeru, have vastly different and varied relationships with their Parent(s). I have wished, many times, that my Mothers would be more demanding of me. I would like some direction, some request, something to motivate and spur me on.

But that’s not how my Mothers are with me. They are love and support and patience, holding the space and sparking ideas, always willing to walk with me but never controlling my direction. Any pressure I feel is mine; any guilt I feel is mine; any path I choose is mine.

This is a festival day for Nebt-het, my Mother. I bring Her fruit and drink, water and flame, smoke and song. I bring Her my presence and attention, my work within ma’at, and all the love I have to give.

The cabinet is open. There is no dust.

Dua Nebt-het!