Ostara is, depending on your tradition, either tomorrow or the day after. For those of you not familiar with the big eight Pagan holidays, Ostara is our spring celebration of new life. Many of the traditions associated with Easter were derived from Ostara celebrations, so even if the name is unfamiliar, you're likely to recognize some things.
The day usually goes something like this; our daughter, Jellybean, wakes up finds her basket of goodies. We have a nice breakfast, usually hot cross buns, and spend some time outside looking for signs of life returning to the Earth. Jellybean hunts for eggs, and our little family/coven comes together for a small ritual.
This year, however, nothing seems to be going as planned. The wife has a massive cold, and is working the morning shift besides. Grandma is bedridden with an injured knee. Funds are tight, so There's not much to put in Jellybean's basket this year. Due to everyone's conflicting schedules, we don't have a ritual planned.
It's easy to get bent out of shape over these sorts of things. I've definitely been fretting over how even a special day can seem like a hassle. The problem, though, is not in busy schedules or bank accounts. It's really all about perspective. Before I sat down to write this, I grabbed three chicks out of the brooder to socialize. The two silkies and the little porcelain quickly fell asleep on my lap, and our kitten, Strawberry, came to join the pile. While I'm stressing about plastic eggs and formal ritual, I'm literally covered with the true meaning of the day.
Ostara is all about trust, and hope for things to come. Sure, money is tight, and I don't see nearly enough of my partner. But to be honest, things have always been that way. Five years ago, we dreamed of having a family and a homestead to raise them on. Four years ago, we were preparing for our first fertility treatment. Last year, we built a coop and bought our first batch of chicks. This has always been a powerful time of year for our little family, and the little balls of fluff snuggled into the crook of my arm remind me that there is always something new to look forward to. Right now they don't seem like much, but I know that if I only nurture them and wait, they will soon repay that care by providing food and companionship for my family.
Winter has been long and trying, but spring and sunshine are just around the corner.
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