The fat cat character loved Lasagna and was a “foodie.”
The shirt was cute and playful, enough so, to get a teenage girl’s attention.
It got mine.
Sagittarius.
Harmless fun.
Yep, I’m a Sagittarius, alright.
That explains it.
Ha-ha.
Well, it explains something.
I was searching for meaning, identity, hope, and purpose.
All things that should be sought of and found by turning to The Most High, through the redemptive work of His Son, Yahshua.
He died for our sins. He is the answer, not Divination.
Astrology is a part of that Divination.
Subtle, seductive. Seemingly, harmless.
“For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.”
Ephesians 6:12
It won’t hurt if I read my horoscope or wear a t-shirt, celebrating my sign, right?
Well, it hurt me more than I realized.
Try two years later.
Disordered eating: it changed, as my emaciated, two-digit weight, Anorexic battle for control moved into my Bulimic phase.
As a college sophomore, I rapidly gained over one hundred pounds within months. I felt hopeless. I could not see a life worth living.
As much as I prayed flailing prayers to Our Heavenly Father, usually consisting of, “Please don’t let me gain weight,” I sought answers elsewhere… a Psychic hotline.
Calling these 1-800 numbers, any time, day or night, became a necessity in my despondent state. When my roommates were asleep or gone, I dialed the hotline to get a spark of hope about my future. Would I fall in love? Would I be successful? Famous? Beautiful? Would my life work out?
“Dear friends, do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are from God, because many false prophets have gone out into the world.”
1 John 4:1
I was told a wide variety of things.
I would be married about four times. I’d be a famous actress. People would applaud me. There were some physical descriptions of individuals who I’d meet along the way, complete with blonde hair here, and hazel eyes there.
Vague, yet Specific?
But enough to keep me hooked.
And I felt I had nothing to look forward to.
This desperation continued for months, racking up a phone bill, displeasing my roommates and my parents. Hundreds of dollars spent in the hope that my life would not continue to be this painful.
But it was.
As I moved into young adulthood, in and out of faith pursuits and churches, I was curious about the paranormal.
Ghosts.
Again, “harmless” fun.
Who doesn’t love a ghost story, right?
“Do not defile yourselves by turning to mediums or to those who consult the spirits of the dead. I am the LORD your God.”
Leviticus 19:31
I watched shows that had paranormal teams, investigating haunted houses and castles. They would connect with “spirits,” disembodied voices of once living, restless, and tortured people. There were cameras and devices that picked up on “hot spots” and voices of the dead.
Communicating with people from other time periods, sometimes, other centuries, was fascinating.
And I had some personal curiosity concerning my childhood home and its folklore. Supposedly, there were two dead children, from the late 1800s, buried under the Lilac grove in my parents’ backyard. I wondered who these children were.
Being a lonely child, sometimes, yes, I even longed for them to be my playmates.
As an adult, no matter what role faith played in my life, I wanted to challenge what’s possible, via the supernatural.
How exciting! What could go wrong?
More things, it turns out.
“I will also turn against those who commit spiritual prostitution by putting their trust in mediums or in those who consult the spirits of the dead. I will cut them off from the community.”
Leviticus 20:6
Spiritual prostitution. Not flattering.
Feeling unsettled, never belonging when it came to matters and people of faith: that’s some of it. This included my level of church involvement, the publishing of my first book, and a bout with breast cancer.
I still wanted more. I still was tempted.
I still was hurting and starving for The Divine.
I was still wounded from childhood abuse.
Therefore, I sought therapy.
And here’s where Divination took another turn.
“See to it that no one takes you captive through hollow and deceptive philosophy, which depends on human tradition and the elemental spiritual forces of this world rather than on Christ.”
Colossians 2:8
Talk therapy led to inner child work… and workbook exercises.
Create a statue to symbolize your loved, healed, inner child.
This arts and crafts project would put me in touch with honoring and celebrating my younger self.
Uh-huh.
So, I bought a bottle of Mrs. Butterworth’s Maple Syrup. I spray-painted it silver, slapped a child photo of me on it, and superglued a small angel to the bottle.
