A statue of Mary stood in a niche high above the hospital entrance . In the evenings snow would fall , its flakes gleaming in the light that illuminated the statue like a votive candle . Gleaming like stars around a goddess . That image has stayed me for more than half a century . Not long a er those February evenings , I learned that one of Mary ’ s titles is “ Our Lady of the Snows .”
In the spring of 1954 , my first year of college , just past my 18 th birthday , I was baptized a Catholic . I remained in that faith until my early thirties , when it no longer satisfied and a broader metaphysical outlook replaced it .
Years later , in the 1970 ’ s , I began to read about women ’ s ( and men ’ s ) need for a goddess figure , for a way to honor the eternal feminine , and realized that Mary Ever Virgin , Mary Mother of God , had fulfilled that need for me .
Although I no longer have any use for the stifling dogmas of organized Christianity ( most of them a far cry from what Jesus stood for ), I still buy rosaries and hold them in my hands , comforting “ worry beads ” that bring back memories of prayers said to the Mystical Rose , the Tower of Ivory , the House of Gold .