Yule Letter to Befana

Dear Befana!

You are the spirit that brings the gifts of life, but you don’t live on the North Pole. You live in the Air, and fly a hefty broom. Salutations to you!

Before Sinta Klaas was adopted from the Dutch and made into Santa Clous, it was you who brought gifts to the children, sweets for the good, and you only knew good kids. Befana! Mother Befana! Granny Befana! The old year opened up her cornocopia, out poured the harvest, the grains, the fruits, the figs and the grapes, the wine, and the breads.

Then you flew off again to fill your apron with more goodies. It was you who bid grandmothers to cook and bake, create huge celebrations around food, which is the basis for all life. You promised continuity, you promised new years, you promised old age and longevity of our species. And you have always delivered. Great old Befana, beloved by all children. Come to us again!

As a good witch I am writing my wishes down to send it to you in a small fire in my backyard. I am writing, “I like to have full good health” Befana, if I may. Last year I suffered a bad injury,which still smarts a bit when I walk . Let that lift from me and be as good as new. Let ten thousand little grandmothers mend my bones together so they can be strong in my old age.

I am writing, You brought out two of my books into the 21st century. Let them find their large audience at last. Let the mouth-to-mouth recommendations bring about plenty of sales, let the Goddess presence be strong this century, through my work and of the other sacred scribes.
“The Holy Book of Women’s Mysteries” is stunning in this new incarnation! “Summoning the Fates” has soothed so many suffering hearts, let them find their new audience as well.

Since its ok to wish for three things, that’s your favorite number, dear Befana send me some inspired interns. Interns with the wish to serve the Goddess. Look amongst the Generation Z folks. I am confident that you could find me interns, at least one who would help me with my autobiography and my evolving Femina Nation.

In gratitude I'll put out figs and honey for you in the window, and watch the skies darken for a moment as you decend upon my rooftop.

I shall burn incense in your honor, spill the milk on the good earth, and let my little red squirrels eat the figs. Let the ants eat the honey.

Thank you dear Granny Befana, flying overhead I can hear your fearless cry, the sound of the local silver black crows.

Blessed be and blessed Yule to us all.