Tag: christianity

Eyes Not Lies

Dear Ravi,

The madness continues. On Saturday morning, an innocent bystander was attacked, pistol whipped, and then gunned down outside of Glam Doll Donuts, on 26th and Nicollett. His name was Alex Pretti. He was an ICU nurse at the Veterans Hospital. A nurse, Ravi, with gentle hands, adored by his patients, coworkers, and family. An outdoor lover and a believer in freedom and free speech. He was attacked when he was trying to protect a woman from pepper spray. A woman who was documenting ICE, as is her legal right. ICE killed him and the Twin Cities is in turmoil. As Minnesotans, we are shaken, but we stand firm.

A few hours after the shooting, Joy sent out an email to the parish. That night, there was to be an all faiths vigil at the Unity Universalist Church. Elizabeth would be one of the presiding priests. Furthermore, we received another email that all the neighborhoods in the Twin Cities were holding candlelight vigils. Frigid sub zero temperatures mean nothing to Minnesotans. We always come out to show up for our own. Alex was one of our own. He will not be forgotten.

That evening at 7pm Robert and I went to Unity Church. There was not parking for blocks. We squeezed into the last row in the church. Behind us stood rows of people. More people sat above us in the gallery. When the candles in the front of the church were lit, not a sound was heard. Elizabeth was one of the first priests to speak. She spoke of love, community and being present for one another. Between other priests speaking there were many songs that were sung or chanted, often in the Taize form, an ancient form of chanting done centuries ago by monks in France. It is a very centering way to pray. The service lasted an hour but passed in the blink of an eye. The last priest to speak bade us to follow this mantra, Eyes Not Lies. We are to be eyes of what is happening around us. We are to be the truth tellers, in a world that wants to spin our reality into something that it is not. It is our job to walk forward in light, as peacemakers and speakers of truth. Eyes Not Lies.

For the very last song, all the priests in the congregation were asked to come forward and sing together. There were at least 40 of them. At that time, we learned that over 600 clergy had come to Minnesota to pray and march. They came from all walks of life, simply because the Spirit called them to do so. This is a mighty calling. After the song all the assembled clergy headed into the congregation with lit candles, to light all of the candles held by the parishioners. The church was filled with dancing light while we all sang a final song together. The feeling in the church was one I cannot even begin to describe the best I can say is I felt, unity, wholeness, and connection in a very shattered world. Then, we all tiptoed out into the night.

Your daddy and I drove home in silence. All through the neighborhood there were people standing vigil in the bitter cold holding candles and singing. It was mystical. We were deeply touched. Never have I been so broken hearted for my state, never have I been so proud to call Minnesota home. You and Mercury were born and raised here. Never forget that.

Ravi, right now I am in a very different place, at least physically. Your daddy and I flew with two dear friends to Tucson, Arizona to spend a week. The sunlight is amazing and it is almost warm. We want to go hiking and lose ourselves in the desert. There are huge cactus and lemon trees everywhere. I have not seen any wildlife yet but am really hoping to see quail and roadrunners. I haven’t seen quail in at least a dozen years, and I have never seen a roadrunner! I am curious about Javelinas, but don’t really wish to meet one up close. The sunrise and sunsets reflecting off the mountains are amazing. I did not realize until this morning how badly I missed mountains. I wish you were here to see them too. Even though we are far from home and I am not feeling as paranoid, I am still very sad and worried for our beloved state. I think we need this week, though, just to calm our nervous systems. We have been on high alert for a month. We will be on high alert when we return. We need this reset. Every morning, I wake up thinking things cannot get any worse, and then they do. Day after day. Minnesota will remain strong, but we grieve those who were senselessly taken from us, those that were detained, those that were sent away. We grieve for the children who are afraid to go to school, for the adults afraid to go to work or even to get groceries. ICE needs to go, and they need leave now.

Ravi, I miss you so much. I am glad that you are dancing with Dave Evans and Dave Coyne in heaven. Roberta has promised to stop by the chapel to see you often while we are gone. For this I am deeply grateful. I know that you are not really in the chapel, but it is one of my touchpoints. I see you in the birds, the butterflies, I feel you in the warm breeze that touches my cheeks. I will look for you in the Arizona desert. Ravi, you were one of the bravest, strongest people I have ever known. Rest in sweet peace. Dance in heaven. I love you to the moon and back. Mom.

All Souls Day

Dear Ravi,

We celebrated you and all the saints and souls who have gone before you at church on Sunday evening. Joy had hung up pictures of all our parishioners and loved ones around the walls of the church. Your picture was on the right hand side of the church, or the eagle side as we say in TEC, near where I always sit. You were a few people up from my dear friend from EFM, Mary Fred. She also was treated for cancer at Mayo, which prolonged her life by two years, and then slipped away from us in hospice during the Covid shutdown. I imagine you and she are having a marvelous time in heaven. She is an amazing mom and advocate, and just a lot of fun.

The opening hymn on Sunday was I Sing a Song of the Saints of God. This was also the processional at your funeral. It has always been one of my favorite hymns, but hearing it now brings me to my knees. All Saints Day and All Souls Day are such a thin place. The veil between the living and the dead is feather thin on those days and flutters, letting us have peeks at each other. In my heart of hearts, I know that you are just on the other side of the veil, waiting for Daddy and me. After the service he and I went down to the chapel to visit you. Joy had lit a candle as a memorial for a baby who was born sleeping. Can you and Mary Fred keep an eye out for the baby? She was loved and wanted but slipped away in the womb. St Clements is planting on oak tree on our parish green for mothers who have lost babies and babies who were born sleeping. They will rest safely in the arms of this tree, instead of the arms of their mothers who grieve them.

I was at the church on Monday as part of the Gather Group. We were interviewing candidates interested in leading our neurodiverse worship services and teaching other churches how to make the neurodiverse feel welcome and church settings. This is a 5-year project funded by the Lily Foundation. Before the interviews began I slipped into the church. All the pictures were still hanging on the walls, keeping watch. Gently, I took your picture down and slid it into my interview folder so you could be with me during the decision process. In each candidate we met I wondered if they would pass the Ravi test. This was the test I gave to all of your PCAs. If they came to the house trying to impress me but paid little attention to you, we immediately wrote them off. If they came in the house and you instantly took a shine to them, I knew that they were a good person and could be trusted. Ravi, you had an excellent sense of people and their vibrations, and you never once led me wrong. Some of these candidates I could see you taking an instant like to them. Several of them were autistic and I promptly felt comfortable with them. Others were well intentioned but did not seem to have the calling for this particular ministry. After nearly 5 hours of talking to people our panel of interviewers went home. We were all exhausted. Each candidate brought their own wave of nervous anticipation and anxiety into the room, and it was hard not to let it rub off on us. We reconvene this evening, talk to two more candidates and then will do some serious reflection over a meal. Candidates in whom we are interested will be called back for another interview and a chance to meet other members of the church, particularly the ones they will be serving. May God be with us as we discern who or whom will be taking on this new ministry.

Ravi, it is 5 am and I am writing to you. I never do seem able to keep normal work hours. I can wake up from a sound sleep with an idea in my head and I have to write to you to get it out. I have been talking to a few publishers for your book. I have decided not to go the route of self publishing. It seems to be a very expensive vanity project and not how I want to project your story. I am putting together a list of potential agents and submitting them to Abbey, our editor. This will be a long process but hopefully a fruitful one. If nothing else, we always have the blog and our band of faithful followers, for whom I am ever grateful.

It’s still dark outside, Ravi. I fed the animals and now they are asleep around me. When it gets light outside, I will take the dogs for a walk. Due to back problems, I am not running much these days, but the dogs and I get in at least 5 miles a day of walking. We had a good walk before the interview yesterday, as I knew that I had to get my wiggles out. Fortunately, if I have notes to take and a few good fidgets on hand, I can generally stay seated and focused. You would be proud of me; I even tried to sit like a neurotypical person! It was hard! Chairs are overrated, but interviewees get nervous if I start pacing the floor, which is my favorite way to think.

I miss our walks, Ravi. I miss your laugh and your smile. I knew that you are with Mary Fred and a host of other souls, just on the other side of the veil, but I still miss you. One day, we will all be together again. No cancer, no pain, no fear. Can you pray for your Uncle Rob? You and God know why. He is a very good human and much loved by his family. Go in peace Ravi, to love and serve the Lord. Love, Mom.

Ten Months

Dear Ravi,

It has been ten months since you left us. We miss you always and forever. Your daddy and I have taken to walking over to St Clement’s in the evening and sitting on the green. This makes us feel close to you. Before we leave, we always tie a ribbon on the prayer trellis for you and Mercury. Neither of you are ever far from our hearts. The prayer trellis began during Covid. Joy strung up clothes lines around the green, left out a box of ribbons, and invited passersby to offer up a prayer and tie a ribbon on the line. By the end of the pandemic, the green was completely surrounded in a wreath of ribbons. Prayer is a powerful thing. It brings us together when we are feeling lost and alone.

I went to church yesterday and since then have been reflecting on the many different Greek words for love. Love that parents and children have for one another is called storge. Philos is brotherly love. Yesterday in church, I saw a beautiful example of agape, selfless love. I will explain. There is an older woman in a parish who is suffering either from dementia or Alzheimer’s. She is brought to church every Sunday by another elderly woman, maybe a sister or a close friend? She sits near the front of the church and Joy brings the Eucharist to her pew as she is too feeble to walk very far. I was sitting a few rows behind her with Roberta and some choir friends. Joy was offering up the post-Communion prayer. Suddenly, this woman stood up and approached Joy at the altar. Joy did not skip a beat. She continued the prayer and held out her arms to the woman. She embraced her in a caring hug. Elizabeth seamlessly picked up the service where Joy had left off as Joy led this woman back to her pew. Gently, the two of them sat down together and the woman leaned against Joy, trusting as a child, and Joy put her arm over her shoulders and talked softly to her. The rest of the clergy recessed to the back of the church, singing a final hymn. Joy continued to sit there, holding this woman in a soft embrace. They sat there through the organ postlude and as others left the church, talking softly. Truly, Joy was a shepherd, ministering to her flock, and this one sweet lamb in particular who needed pastoral care and the knowledge that she too was loved, included, and accepted. The world must be a very scary place for her, but to her, Joy was a safe person to turn to. This, Ravi, is agape, in it’s truest form. There are many other Greek words for love, but agape and storge are the ones that are foremost in my mind.

I am starting my new job as a direct care support worker tomorrow and I think it will be a really good fit. The young woman whom I will be helping is also a graduate of St. Kate’s, just like Alissa and Lauren. Speaking of St. Kate’s, I had a great dream about you the other night. You were hanging out with the St. Kate’s basketball team, as was one of your preferred activities when Alissa was in school. In the dream you were laughing and having a wonderful time. I woke up smiling. I hope that there are basketball games in heaven. Right now, Nikik is perched on the back of my chair and the dogs are at my feet. They had good walks and runs this morning. I will run over to the church tomorrow, to say hi to you and place two more ribbons in the trellis, sealed with kisses. Love you to the moon and back. Mom.

Dear Jesus,

About 5 months ago, my son Ravi arrived in heaven. He came rather suddenly on a Friday night. His family was not prepared for his departure, but he had outlasted his earthly body and was ready to leave it behind. If you are not certain how to recognize him, let me help. Ravi is about 6 feet tall, 2 inches. He has thick brown hair, with a bit of “chemo curl” and the most beautiful blue eyes. He was not wearing glasses when he left, but I doubt that he will need them in heaven. He has worn thick glasses since the age of 2 and a half. His tummy was not working very well when he left, even with the G/J tube, he could not take in any nutrients. This was very distressing to all of us. Now that he is in heaven, let me tell you what he loves to eat. His favorite drive through food is Taco Bell. Usually, he likes a large cherry freezie and a chicken quesadilla. If that does not work, a soft-shelled taco with beef and cheese can fix almost any problem. If he is in the mood for a sit-down meal, there are many options. He likes fried chicken and sweet tea from Canes. Carbonne’s has great pizza and cheesy bread with marinara sauce. Noodles from Noodles and Company is also a big hit. A turkey sub, from Subway with a side of chips and a drink is also a good choice. Though Ravi was always very skinny, he really does like to eat, and dining out with Alissa or Peter was one of his favorite things. For on the go snacks, gummi bears, Twizzlers, and goldfish crackers are always good.

On earth, Ravi had to take a lot of medicines, even before the cancer. After he was diagnosed, the medicines more than tripled. His daddy kept them all in a big med minder and made sure it was always filled and up to date. He had lots of timers set so he knew that Ravi was getting the right medicine at the right time. We know that there are not seizures or cancer in heaven, so guess you don’t need to worry about that.

Ravi has an AAC named Sam. It goes everywhere with him since he does not use mouth words. Can he use mouth words now? Sam is still here with me, on Ravi’s dresser. I miss Sam and I really miss his owner. I would love to hear Ravi’s voice. I can still hear his laugh. He has the best laugh. Sometimes, it is a high-pitched cackle, other times, it is a low, rumbling belly laugh. He has a very good sense of the absurd, and sometimes things just catch his fancy and he just giggles. I would love to know what goes on in his head.

Ravi loves to go for rides in my Subaru, Forester. His favorite stations are Cities 97, The Current, and the Classical Station. He can choose his own stations and has very definite ideas about what constitutes good music. I have entire playlists on Spotify that we set up when he was in the hospital. I have not listened to them in nearly 5 months. Sometimes, a favorite song will come on the radio and the memories it evokes almost takes me to my knees. Music is such a powerful trigger, and it can evoke both beauty and pain.

When Ravi arrived, was Rosie there to meet him? She was his best buddy for 12 years. Things were always okay in Ravi’s world when Rosie was around. Though she is an amazing service dog, she will try to eat his treats. He likes to share his treats, so it is probably okay. They have a pretty good system worked out.

Jesus, please let Ravi know that we love and miss him deeply. Things are not the same without him. I am still trying to publish his book, so more people will know his story. I am still pushing for better funding and outcomes for osteosarcoma. I did not go to church yesterday, as the memories were too strong. I did take long dog walks. The snow is melting, and the weather is getting warmer. Ravi loves to go for walks and when he is healthy, which he is now, he can go for miles. Sometimes, these walks end us up at Subway, for a sandwich, or Super America for a drink and a treat. Sometimes, they wander us across campus to look at the college kids on the quad, sometimes, we like to go to Belmont Park. Spring is coming here, and I have two baby trees that I plan to plant in the backyard in Ravi’s memory. April has also given me lots of bulbs to plant. I want to make our backyard a sanctuary for the bees and the birds.

Jesus, you know better how to care for Ravi than I ever did, but this is just a list of suggestions for his care and feeding. Tell him how much we love him and that someday, we will all be together again. In the meantime, I will continue to advocate for him. For everyone out there in this crazy world, keep the faith, be good humans, and I will be in touch. Harriet.

Our Sunday Visit

Hello, Ravi my love. It is early on a Monday morning here and it is 43 degrees F. This is amazing. 8 days ago, at this time it felt like minus 35 degrees F and schools were closed due to the extreme cold. Yesterday, I walked the dogs and did not even need mittens or a hat! It was amazing. The dogs are spending a lot more time outside and the cat moves from place to place in the house, following sunbeams.

Yesterday, I attended the 8:15 am church service, my favorite. Elizabeth preached and did a lovely job in her sermon of weaving together the readings of the day into a message of social justice. We don’t just go to church to hear good things. We are charged with taking this message of Good News out into the greater world. When April baptized you, nearly 22 years ago, those in attendance made 5 vows for you. These are the vows: To live among God’s faithful people. To hear the Word of God and share in the Lord’s supper. To proclaim the good news of God in Christ through word and deed. To serve all people, following the example of Jesus. To strive for justice and peace on the earth. These are very specific promises we made, Ravi, and I try my best to keep them, even those the world around us is a tumultuous place. We must respect the life and dignity and every human person, in a world where so many rights are being taken away from the vulnerable. The people of God are all around us Ravi, and we are called to serve and love our neighbor as ourselves.

After the service, and getting another big hug from Elizabeth, I went down to the chapel to visit you. Every time I see your name on your niche and run my hands across the wooden door that separates you from me, the tears come thick and fast. Ravi, my son, I miss you so much. The chapel is a good place to cry, to pray, to reflect. I spent a good deal of time praying and talking to you. I told you how confusing and scary the world is right now. I reminded you that in scary times we must do what Mr. Rogers said to do, to look for the helpers. I told you about my job at Bridgeview, and how sometimes it is very difficult. I like my job, but it is taxing me physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. For these reasons, I have taken FMLA and am stepping back for a few weeks, to get my bearings. I jumped into this job not two months after we had lost you. I was and am, still very raw and brittle. I need some time to pray, to breathe, to revive. While I was chatting with you, a mama and her daughter came in. They placed a most beautiful bouquet of yellow roses near your niche. Then, they went over the niche of their loved one and prayed for a while. The left as quietly as they came. The chapel is a good place to be.

In time, I returned upstairs to the Adult Forum. The topic that day was on the sacrament of Ordination. It was led by Anne, an older priest who had retired 4 years ago, our 2 female priests, whom you know, our female deacon, and a male priest I did not know. Anne talked about the still recent struggle for women to become ordained and then be placed in a parish. When she mentioned the Right Rev. Budde, the room broke into spontaneous applause. As I have mentioned before, she is a woman of God, preaching a message of justice and mercy to a world that does not want to hear it. In many ways, she reminds me of Arch Bishop Oscar Romero. I hope and pray that she does not meet the same fate. The lecture ended far too soon, and I exited into brilliant sunshine bouncing off the snow. It was a morning well spent. I have much to think about as I try to uphold the vows prayed for me at my baptism in 1971. I want justice and mercy. I try to respect the dignity of every human being. Rather than just flailing about in a world engulfed in chaos, I need to find my own way to hold up a tiny bit of the sky. I want to provide people with love and safe places to be their own authentic selves. Your story has not ended Ravi, and I am still living out the vows that I said for you, over 2 decades ago. The traditional dismissal from the Episcopal Church is with the priest telling the congregants to go forth in peace, to love and serve the world. Friends, we live in troubling times. Rather than just thrashing about in the chaos that never seems to end, in what way can you hold up your tiny portion of the sky? In what way can you create a safe place? I assume that we will all have different ways to carry these things out. None of them are any less than the other. Be good humans. Walk in love as Christ loved us. Peace, Harriet.

Two Months

Dear Ravi,

It has been two months since you left us, but you are never far from our hearts. You will be happy to know that I am now teaching at Bridge View School, where you spent so many happy years. I am in a classroom with 1 head teacher, 3 staff, including me, and 4 very busy 8- and 9-year-old boys. These 4 boys really keep us hopping. Today is bitterly cold out so we did not go outside for recess. We did get to go swimming and to the Explore and Learn room. You loved both of those places and the teachers there remember you fondly. I saw your bike today. It is put away for the moment to make room in the gym for the winter presentation. Soon, it will be back out in the gym and providing joy to others.

Today was a day of laughter and tears. I miss you desperately, but I love the work that I am doing. I have wanted to work here for many years. God knew what He was doing when he told me to step away from the special ed world 8 years ago. There was no way I could have been a good mom to you and Mercury as well as the best teacher I could be. God needed me to focus all of my attentions on you and your sibling. Mercury is now in college, and you are in heaven. God called me to work at Bridge View and I am following His will, with as much grace as possible. It has been my dream to work in a classroom of autistic students. It is very hard work at times, but it also provides me with joy. There are just certain moments when I think of you and the pain of your loss takes my breath away.

Though I was introduced to the staff as Teacher Harriet, everyone calls me Ravi’s mom. I wear this title with pride. My son, you are not forgotten. You live on in the memories of those who taught you and loved you. We are not really celebrating Christmas this year. The last 2 years were clouded by chemo and cancer and were not times that we wanted to celebrate. This year we are going for Dim Sum with Dan and Robin and then playing board games. I have 2 weeks of vacation and during that time I am working on my pitch to various publishing companies. It is my goal, one of many, to have you live on through my words. I love you to the moon and back. Mom, aka, Ravi’s Mom.