As mentioned in the Entrance Hall, this Temple is dedicated to the memory of a very special little girl. Her name was Tempest, and she lived in Michigan down river. Tempest was a Wiccan, and a young one at that. Her family was supportive of her religious choice, but home is where it ended. At school, Tempest endured taunts, jeers, and the kind of cruel vulgarity only found in schools, a place every adult considers no such thing occurs. So, at the age of 12, Tempest dressed for the morning and promptly hanged herself from her bunk bed.
Tempest was my (Emrys) age when she found Wicca then killed herself. Having lived in the same relative area, I may have eventually come to meet Tempest by chance, but unfortunately the oppportunity is gone. That is why the story of Tempest is so dear in my heart, and why I cry every time I read the article the following link opens. May the Goddess keep her child from the slings and arrows of the present world, and giv her back to the Earth Plane only once we can make it a suitable home for the next generation of Wiccans.
THE PLEDGE
I remember Tempest Smith. I remember that it's never right to make fun of someone's beliefs. I remember that sticks and stones can break my bones, but names are words of power that can wound the soul. I remember that many mocked - and one died.
I remember Tempest Smith. I remember that it takes all types to make a world. I remember that nature likes biodiversity. This is true of beliefs and ideas as well. I remember that I make a better witness to my own beliefs by simply living them, not belittling others.
I remember Tempest Smith. And I remember that another person’s belief (or non-belief) is just as sincerely held as my own. I remember to have the courage to say, "Hey, that's not right," when I see someone being ridiculed. And the next time I am tempted to go along with the crowd and tease someone who is "different," I will remember Tempest Smith, and I will remember my pledge.
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