Tag: faith

The People Who Live in Darkness Shall See a Great Light

Dear Ravi,

Alleluia, the Lord is Risen! Christ is Risen, indeed. Alleluia!

Last night, in a darkened church, those words rang out, and suddenly we were surrounded by a great light. The Great Vigil began in darkness, punctuated only by candlelight. The readers and cantors took us on a long journey through Old Testament readings, from Adam and Eve, to Moses, to Jonah in the belly of the whale. The readings spanned the ages from the beginnings of time until the glorious resurrection. Bells rang out and the lights went up to celebrate the Resurrection. Ravi, it was a glorious service, my very favorite of the church year. What could be timelier for this broken world than a service that begins in darkness and ends in light and chiming bells?

Ravi, death does not have the final word. I firmly believed this. On October 11, 2024, you shed your earthly body and entered into something much better. Though we grieve you deeply, we know that you are in better hands than ours. You have joined so many dear friends and relatives. Indeed, you are dancing with Jesus. You have left your frail body behind and have joined the ranks of those who have gone before. I am certain that you and Joyce are running about heaven causing “good trouble”, along with John Lewis.

Just yesterday I noticed that the daffodils I had planted in the side yard are coming up. Our crocus in pots on the porch survived a 12-inch snowstorm and are bravely sticking up green shoots. Meteorological spring arrived a few weeks ago, but Minnesota is slow to pick up the message. This too, is a story as old as time. Right now, I am sitting in the pre-dawn darkness. I have coffee at the ready and pets at my feet. Soon, I will shower, wake up your Daddy and return to church for another celebratory service. As always, we will slip downstairs and visit you. When Joy interred your ashes she said, “This is not Ravi, he is not here.” She is absolutely correct. The grave cannot contain you. Though we visit you often in the chapel/columbarium, your soul is not there. I sense you in the singing birds, the soft caress of breeze on my face, in the giggles of children during the service and the pitter patter of little feet. So, my dear, from my heat to yours, we wish you are joyous Easter. I love you forever, Mom.

The Great Silence

Dear Ravi,

Good morning, my love! Welcome to the Great Silence. It has been quite the week at St. Clements. On Wednesday night the Gather group had an intergenerational, autism/sensory friendly meal and service where we walked the participants through the final days of Jesus’ life. As you may have noticed, we ended the service in the chapel. During Holy Week, there was a labyrinth on the floor. Many pilgrims came and walked it, pacing and praying. I found it to be an excellent place to pray, walk, and to be near you. On Maundy Thursday we had our Last Supper, and the elements were transported into the Nave, the room of repose, to lie there in rest. The organ was closed and parishioners left in silence. Last night was Good Friday, where the Passion was chanted and we recalled the last few hours of Jesus’ life. Tonight is one of the holiest nights of the year, Holy Saturday. The service begins at 8pm and ends between 11pm and midnight. There are readings from both the old and the New Testament. The service begins in utter darkness. Gradually light begins to return to the chancel. Candles are lit. Joy begins to rise. We end with a mighty Alleluia, Christ is risen! This joy surges through the entire church and catches everyone up in its wake. It is truly a miraculous service.

Today, I am keeping to myself. Christ is in the tomb, buried. His disciples have given up all hope. It is a day of prayer and introspection. April sent me a women’s prayer book yesterday. I will spend today praying and thinking about death and resurrection. I will be thinking of you. I thought a lot about Mary last night. She stood at the cross and watched her son die. He was released into her arms. She held him and birth, and she held him in death. From one mother to another, I feel her grief.

Next Saturday is an all-day writing workshop. I get to spend 9 hours honing my craft and talking to other writers. I have an agent pitch, as well. Right now, I am trying to fold your story into a 10-minute pitch that will hopefully piqué an agent’s curiosity. My love, how do I cram your life into 10 minutes? I have a basic outline. Less is better and questions should be left unanswered, hoping that the agent will want more. I think best when I am on my feet, so I will be peripatetic this week. I will walk the dogs, think of you and, and prepare my pitch. Wish me luck.

I will check back in with you on the Easter Sunday. There will be great rejoicing, both in heaven and on earth. In the interim, I will descend into silence. You and Mercury are always in my heart and on my mind. Love, Mom.

A Day Just for Cats

Dear Ravi,

Most of the world is celebrating St. Patrick’s Day today. Nikki and I are celebrating St. Gertrude’s Day. She is the patron saint of cats. I am much more into cats than I am drinking beer and dying large bodies of water green. I am wearing a green sweater today, but I put it on without thinking of what day it is and now I don’t want to take it off because it is cold outside. We got at least a foot of snow over the weekend and now it is bitterly cold. The good news is that it should be in the mid 50s by the end of the week. I would like to say that this is the last of the snow, but we know better, don’t we. April usually has a surprise blizzard for us, just as one final hurrah.

As you know, I dropped in to see you last night. I was at church for our Gather meeting. We are planning an autism and sensory friendly service for Wednesday of Holy Week. We will start out with a simple dinner and the Eucharist at the table, just like Jesus did at the last supper. Then, we will move to different stations around the church as we commemorate the final night and death on the cross of Jesus. We will finish our journey in the chapel/columbarium. As it will not yet be Sunday, we cannot really celebrate the resurrection, but we can pretend what it would be like to find the tomb empty. At the end, we will give each child a box with a coloring sheet inside that says Alleluia, Christ is Risen! The children can open this box, let the Alleluias out and color them on Easter morning. I am very excited about the Gather initiative. There has been so much behind the scenes work in the last year, and now we are finally seeing it come to life. I wish you could be here to celebrate with us, but I know that you are watching us from on high. I wish that you could experience this with us. Our church did not have anything like this when you were young. So, now we do better. The motto of the Episcopal Church is “The Episcopal Church welcomes you.” The mission statement of St. Clement’s is “All are welcome, all are needed.” Do you remember the song that I used to sing to you; all God’s children have a place in the choir? This is our goal, our driving force. At our church, everyone will have a place in the choir, including those who sing without using any words.

Ravi, I miss you, but I think you would be very happy about the work that I am doing for you and for all neurodivergent people like you. You may not walk beside me anymore, but I will always be your advocate. Nikki and I, and all the orange kitties in the world, wish you a blessed St. Gertrude’s Day. If you see a kitty in heaven, and I am certain that there are lots of them, give them a gentle nose boop from me. Love you forever and ever. Mom.

Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war

Dear Ravi,

I slept in this morning while Daddy went to his welding class. I got up, fed the pets, made coffee and let Nikki make biscuits on my chest. I could feel his purr thrumming through my body. I was feeling relaxed until I opened laptop. I did not have it on my bingo card for our country, along with Israel, to attack Iran under the cover of darkness.

Ravi, your daddy lived in Iran in 1972. It was a very different place then, and he greatly enjoyed his time there. It was a bright spot in his childhood. I love hearing his stories from that era. We are peacemakers, you, me, and your daddy. I took you to antiwar protests in a front pack when you were not even old enough to crawl. Being a peacemaker was part of your identity. You were born to accompany me to protests, to speak out against the war machine. We know that there are so many better things that our country can do besides wage war. We can use that money to fight disease, to improve our schools, to have better mental and physical health care, to have flourishing libraries, and to dwell in a country where no one has to worry about food, or rent, or astronomical health care bills. We call America the land of the free. How are we free when others are oppressed? An elementary school full of young girls was attacked in Iran today. Those children were innocent of any wrongdoing, and their blood is on the hands of our government. I weep for the loss of life and the loss of innocence. I weep for mothers and fathers who have to bury their children. No parent should have to bury their child.

Ravi, I am at a loss for words. I cannot understand this wanton destruction. I am also seeing a pattern. When our president attacks another country, it is done under the cover of darkness on a Friday night. War is started when Congress is not in session and the stock market has closed for the weekend. There is a definite trend here. The president does not have the power to declare war, only Congress can do that. This president is a madman and does not care about laws, the Constitution, or any former precedents. Though I miss you deeply, grieve you deeply, I am glad you are not around to witness these atrocities.

So, where do I go from here? I will go to St. Clement’s: I will go to my community. Tomorrow, I will teach a Sunday school lesson on planting seeds of kindness. I will ask my little group how they showed kindness in the last week. I will give them potting soil and Solo cups, and we will plant seeds of our own, to nurture and watch them grow. I will stop in the chapel and talk to you. I will once again remind myself to look for goodness and love in my neighborhood, and the world around me. Your father and I will continue to do Costco runs to Bridge View School. We will not give up hope. We will work and pray for peace. Ravi, you were a peaceful person, and we continue this work in your memory. Please continue to pray for all “victims of hunger, fear, and oppression.” Until we meet again. Love, Mom.

Music and Compline

Dear Ravi,

Last night was a beautiful evening in a time of pain and chaos. ICE still continues to roam the streets and abduct innocent people. Daily life in the Twin Cities is nothing like it was 2 months ago. We are living under siege. The choir at St. Clement’s decided to do something amazing. They put together an evening of song, beautiful music in the heart of upheaval and trauma. For part of the evening the choir sang. Later, they taught the congregation some beautiful call and response songs, and also how to sing in a round. It was balm for the soul. The evening closed with Compline. Do you remember Compline? I prayed it with you every night that you were in the hospital, praying for both you and the nurses who worked the overnight shift. There are two prayers that I especially love, and I will share them below.

“Keep watch dear Lord, for those who work, or watch, or weep this night, and give your angels charge over those who sleep. Tend the sick, Lord Christ; give rest to the weary, bless the dying, soothe the suffering, pity the afflicted, shield the joyous; and all for your love’s sake. Amen. ”

The prayer that directly follow this one I always prayed for the doctors and nurses who were on call.

“O God, your unfailing providence sustains the world we live in and the life we live: watch over those, both night and day, who work while others sleep, and grant that we may never forget that our common life depends upon each other’s toil; through Jesus Christ our Lord, Amen.”

Ravi, every night I still pray for the doctors and nurses who cared for you at Masonic Children’s Hospital. I mention them all by name is hope that our Savior hears me prayer. I am undyingly grateful for all the tender care that they gave you. So many of them came to your funeral. We still receive the occasional note from them, and the dreamcatcher that they made in your memory still hangs on our wall, directly above the pictures we have of you. My love, you are not forgotten.

At the close of the service, Joy blessed a box full of candles for us to take out into the world, to use at a vigil of our choice. The world is full of darkness, but we carry these candles bravely, and our prayers waft upwards like incense. Our light and our voices will not be stilled. At the close of Compline, Daddy and I went downstairs to visit you. We noticed, by looking on the other dates in the columbarium, that you are the youngest person in the room, by a lot. This is a startling difference to the church where I grew up, St Paul’s. That church is older than St. Clement’s and there are many tombstones there for children who did not live past the age of 5. After public health grew and vaccines became available, there were much fewer childhood graves. I worry today because many people have a short view of history and are not having their children receive lifesaving vaccines. As you well know, Ravi, I am a proud autism mama and I vaccinate. You and Mercury did not fall prey to routine childhood illnesses. I wish that there was a vaccine that could have stopped your cancer in its tracks. Alas, there was not one. We fought osteosarcoma with the best of what medicine had to offer, but too often it was with medicines that were 40 years out of date. For this reason, I am starting to view myself not only as an autism advocate but also an osteosarcoma advocate. I am sensing a new calling as I write, and pray, and read. I am not yet certain where this calling will lead me, but I am open to the voice of the Spirit to guide me. You did not fight alone, Ravi. You can rest in eternal peace now, but I will continue to advocate, write, and pray for better outcomes for those with autism and those with rare cancers. I am starting to meet other mamas who are on a similar journey. We are small but mighty.

Ravi, I miss you. I love you forever. Mom.

February 9, 2026

Dear Ravi,

I woke up this morning with a dark cloud hanging over my head. At first, I could not figure out why I was so distressed. I had attended a beautiful church service yesterday and had the opportunity to stop in the chapel and visit with you. Yesterday was a good day. Today, I felt nothing but despair. As I made a cup of coffee, it hit. Today is the 9th. It was the 9th of December 2022 when we first learned that you had cancer. That was the day our world slid sideways. My conscious self may not always remember significant dates, but my heart always will. Eventually, my mind catches up and my grief intensifies.

All in all, today was pretty good. I had coffee with two dear friends from church and got some publishing advice. I signed up for a writing workshop this spring. This is a full day of classes and the opportunity to pitch my manuscript to an agent. My friends who are more knowledgeable about the publishing process than I am all agree, the book is written, now I need an agent to go to bat for me. My driving ambition is to tell your story to a wider audience. My son, you are not forgotten. My cousin Charles tells me that the global prayer of his church this month is focused on children who have incurable diseases and that you are at the forefront of his mind.

Last week, another wonderful thing happened. Teacher Rosalind reached out to me with a picture of a sensory friendly mural that has been put up on your classroom wall in your memory. I know that mural will stand the test of time and bring much pleasure to upcoming students at Focus Beyond. Once again, you are not forgotten. We were going to do another grocery run to your school, but the social workers say that they have a very well stocked pantry right now and do not need immediate help. I will continue to reach out to them and let them know that we are only a text away and will do anything to help both Bridge View and Focus Beyond students and parents.

Ravi, I miss you terribly but rejoice in the knowledge that you are safe with Jesus. The metro area is a scary place to be right now. ICE is abusing and disappearing people right and left. Minorities, who are the backbone of our community are afraid to go to work or send their children to school. I have never seen anything like this before, and I hope I will never see anything like it again. We are aghast at the callousness and cruelty or ICE agents who are drunk with power. On the other hand, I have never been prouder to be a Minnesotan. We stand together, united. I saw a sign I really liked the other day. It said, “When you treat us like Russia, we fight like Ukraine.” I wish we did not have to fight, that we could all live in peace. We are 8 weeks into this siege, and it is very hard. It is hard on children, and it is hard on adults. Some days I am too scared to even leave the house and walk the dogs. The national news does not show what is really going on in Minnesota. Those of us on the inside must be the truth tellers. I will keep writing, keep wearing my red resistance hat, keep speaking out for peace and justice. I have no news of Mercury, but I pray that they are safe. I know that they live about 20 minutes from your Aunt Mags, but that is all I know. Our loss of Mercury is a very different type of loss. To the best of our knowledge, they are safe, but we have not seen them in 3 years. Somedays, it feels like your daddy, and I lived through both a death(yours) and a divorce (Mercury’s exodus).

Currently, I have 2 dogs asleep at my feet, a cat on the back of my chair and a hedgehog under my elbow. She is cuddled up in my red resistance hat. Your daddy is on his way home from juggling. I am glad for this fleeting moment of peace. We will stop in to see you before Compline tomorrow night. I love you to the moon and back. Mom.

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.

A Quick Note to Ravi

Dear Ravi,

Yesterday was a day that would make you proud to be a Minnesotan. As you probably know, there was going to be a white supremist rally in the Cedar Riverside neighborhood, blocks from Masonic Children’s Hospital. I am very familiar with that neighborhood. I often took runs and walks through there while Daddy was keeping you company. As you also know, this is a Somali neighborhood and a place of peace. Anyway, some stupid white men with more testosterone than sense and drunk on power decided they would march through the neighborhood and burn the Qur’an on the steps of city hall. To our everlasting delight, the march crashed and fizzled. First of all, the weather was in our favor. It was bone chilling, sub zero temperatures, typical of Minnesota in January. Less than a dozen supremists turned out. A few stepped out of their hotel, got slapped in the face by the bitter cold, saw the hordes of peaceful protesters and retreated back into the hotel. This left one white dude with a megaphone, all by himself. The crowd mocked him and jeered at him. They threw snowballs and water balloons. They literally chased him down the street. He was trying to get back to his hotel. Out of nowhere came a young African American man. He took his enemy by the arm and directed him to safety, while getting pelted by snowballs and water balloons that were aimed at his foe. This young brother guided his enemy to safety. Ravi, he did not have to do this. The person he helped believed that he should “go back where he came from”. Sweetheart, this is true agape, selfless love.

Things are very uncertain and uncomfortable here right now, and it is stretching across the country. I heard today that the orange maggot is sending ICE to Disney in Florida. This is a chance for the Mouse to stand up and roar. If they want to continue being the most magical place on earth, then they need to fight back. If they don’t, no one will want to go there. One of Florida’s premier vacation destinations will be vacant. We never took you to Disney Land or Disney World. Honestly, I have never been there either. You and Mercury never showed the slightest interest in anything Disney related, so for your Zak’s wish trip, we went north to Duluth. Not seeking crowds, but solitude and a beautiful Great Lake that stretches farther than the eye can see. We rode around on a modified bike, we walked on the beach, we ate lots of great food, and we enjoyed each other’s company. That was one of the best weeks of my life. I wish that serenity for the world today. Our country does not need Greenland. We do not need mall cops heady with power in our streets. We are better than this.

As I write, I hear helicopters overhead. Like during the George Floyd riots, they have become a steady backdrop of noise. Things are peaceful for a while, then are disrupted by honking horns, whistles, and sirens. Peace is very fragile. I am proud to be a Minnesotan. I am proud that you were born, lived, and died in this beautiful state. It is up to us to stand on the right side of justice. Peace to you my son, I love you forever. Mom.

No Words

Dearest Ravi,

I have no words for what is happening in the Twin Cities. It is appalling, terrifying and completely unjust. ICE has openly taken over the metro area and all other parts of the state. Protesters and passersby are being attacked, shot, pepper sprayed, and taken away. It is not safe to be on the streets. Yet, I am fiercely proud of our state. Minnesotans are standing up and speaking up. Our voice will not be silenced. At church on Sunday we had a church full of immigrants and two beautiful baptisms. It was a day of joy and celebration. Last night we joined a dear friend for dinner at a local Indian restaurant and shared laughter, tears, stories and more. It was life affirming. There are pop up protests all over the twin cities. I went to our usual protest on Friday at Snelling and Summit. I will be going back every week. I carry a whistle everywhere I go, so I can sound an alert if I see anything suspicious. ICE has been in our neighborhood, to all the safe places that we used to go. In a way it feels like Covid and the George Floyd riots all over again. People are in lockdown. Others are storming the streets. Police cars, sirens, helicopters are everywhere. I feel like we have fallen into the Twilight Zone.

I miss you so much, but I also rejoice that you are in heaven and forever safe from all of this madness. I worry for Mercury. I know that they are living in the Twin Cities area. I do not know if they are safe. So near, and yet so far. Complete radio silence from your Aunt Mags, but if she couldn’t be bothered to come to your funeral or even inquire as to where you are interred, we really can’t expect anything much of her. She seems to think she is helping Mercury but in reality, she is driving a deeper wedge between us. If she had any common sense, she would get back on her own yoga mat. Mercury is your sister and our child. We can take care of our own. We do not welcome outside interfence. It is true that Mags has been a lifeline for them, but now she needs to step back. My family of origin is so foreign to me. Their only currency is information and money. They like to control people by using these two things. Your daddy and I refuse to play their game.

Please watch over Mercury and all those in the Twin Cities, particularly those who have skin of a darker color. Remember the children’s hymn, Jesus Loves the Little Children, all the children of the world? It is true. Jesus loves all of he children, but I firmly believe that He is looking down on the discord in the world and weeping for us, with us. I love you to the moon and back. I will be at church on Sunday to say hi, but I carry you in my heart forever. Love, 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.