Tag: god

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.

October 19, 2024

Dear Ravi,

This was the date that St Clement’s prayed and sang you into heaven. It was a beautiful and heart-breaking service. I go back and forth about which was the worst day of my life. Was it the day you died in my arms, or the day we laid you to rest? I don’t know.

I went to church this morning hoping to feel you. For some reason my hands and feet were freezing. I felt cold all over. Gradually, the sun crept into the church, and as Elizabeth preached, I found myself covered in sunshine. It did not help that much with the cold, but it did make me feel better. So did the prayers, songs, and breaking of the bread. 1782 Ashland Avenue is my home, but the parish, and the chapel where you reside is my home away from home. It is where I seek God, I search for you, where I am joined in fellowship by those I care for deeply.

I went to the chapel after church but could not stay long to talk to you. It seems that there was a meeting about to happen there. People were straggling in, talking to each other, looking at the phones, and I could not really sense you. I put my hand on the door that leads to your niche and offered you a brief blessing. Then, I hurried out until the sunshine.

Yesterday, your daddy and I joined nearly 8 million people across the country in a No Kings March and Rally. It was beautiful, peaceful, and life affirming. Though I am exhausted today, I am very happy that I went. There were speeches, chants, signs, songs, and costumes galore. We listened to the songs, speeches and prayers before marching the streets with thousands of likeminded people. Democracy raised her voice yesterday, Ravi, and was heard. You voted for democracy, and you did not vote in vain. The pendulum will swing the other direction, I just don’t know when. The shutdown drags on, and millions of Americans are worried about health insurance, jobs, feeding their families, the list goes on. But yesterday was a day of hope.

Daddy was hoping to go soaring today, but the winds are too gusty. Instead, we will walk the dogs and remember you. Your two remembrance trees in the backyard are thriving. We put bunny barriers around the trunks to protect them from the ever-hungry rabbits. I will not have bunnies eating your trees! These trees are destined to grow and blossom in your memory. We will protect them at all costs.

My dear son, I miss you deeply. I sensed you yesterday morning at sunrise as clouds were scudding across the newly awakened sky. Your name is on my lips when I arise and when I take my rest. Please offer up a prayer for your sibling, Mercury, I fear that they are suffering economic hardship and potential danger. I want them to know that they can always return home. Our door is open. It may take a miracle to bring Mercury home, but I am always on the lookout for miracles. I also believe that miracles take faith and hard work. In your memory, my love, I continue to work and pray. Ravi, you are in my heart forever. Love, Mom.

Childhood Cancer Awareness Month

Dear Ravi,

I have to admit, I am tapped out. It is only halfway through the month, and I am exhausted. Running the race 2 weekend ago for you was wonderful. I am looking forward to running another 5km, Brave Like Gabe, this weekend. Together, lots of runners are raising money for better outcomes for rare cancers, including osteosarcoma. But more and more people want to hear the story of your cancer journey. Ravi my love, I can happily talk about your life all day long, but I really don’t want to write or chat about the end of your life. We are coming up on the one-year anniversary of your passing and I am too raw, too tired, to share. I am digging deep and doing something unusual for me. I am telling people no. Not forever, but no for right now. Maybe in another year or two I can share your cancer story, but right now I am just trying to put one foot in front of the other.

On a different note, if the church seemed more lively than usual yesterday, there was a good reason! It was the first day of Sunday School. I am happily co-teaching a class of 8 girls, ages 5 through 10. They have amazing enthusiasm and energy. Being around them is a joy. You loved school so I imagine that the noise and clamor of young learners made your heart expand several sizes. St Clement’s is very much alive. After I taught Sunday School I went upstairs for the 10:30 service. Joy preached, using one of your favorite children’s stories, The Runaway Bunny, and it was exactly what I needed to hear. You cannot outrun my love, on either side of the grave, and we cannot outrun the love of God. After the service I retreated downstairs to visit you. Sunday school and the service had taken all of my spoons. It was a relief just to sit in the chapel, relax, and talk to you. Eventually, I emerged and made my way home. Dad and I took several long dog walks. We are thinking of planting a tree in your honor next month. I don’t know what type of tree yet; I will go to the nursery and see which tree calls to me.

Ravi, you visit me so often in my dreams. Interestingly, you do not have Sam, or any other AAC, nor do you need mouth words. You seem perfectly content and happy. There must be other ways of communicating in heaven that we folk on earth cannot even fathom. Please look out for our friends who are going through chemo. You know how hard that journey is. We can both support them in prayer. Sometimes, prayer is all I have to give.

So, this week and the rest of the month is going to be one step at a time. I will run a race for you. I will blog about you. I will spend time with people who knew and loved you. I will try to take care of myself and your dad. I will pray that Mercury will one day reach out. Time is weird. Sometimes, it feels like I haven’t seen you in forever, other times, the months pass in the blink of an eye. Maybe that makes more sense in heaven, too. Not a lot in the world makes sense right now, but my love for you continues forever. 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.

Happy Birthday, Ravi!

Dear Ravi,

Today you are 23 years old and celebrating your first birthday in heaven. I am certain you are having a much bigger party than we were able to throw for you when you turned 18 or 21. I instinctively knew that you would want to celebrate this birthday outside. Yesterday, you daddy and I walked over to St. Clement’s to visit you. The church had just had the carpets cleaned and no one was supposed to go downstairs or to the chapel, but when we explained why we were there, a very nice man let us come inside. We spent a long time in the chapel, talking to you, talking to each other, and just sitting and remembering. It is a very peaceful place to be. On our way out we ran into Joy, who gives the best hugs in the world. We talked for a minute about Gather, the new autism friendly services our church is beginning this fall. We are all super excited about this. In the fall, I am also helping lead sensory friendly Sunday School classes. We will have a prayer, a lesson, and a song. After that students are invited to do a variety of things, both large and small motor, with many sensory tools thrown in for good measure. It has been a while since I have taught, and I am looking forward to this.

This afternoon, your daddy and I met our dear friend, Roberta, at the Como Zoo. We wandered the entire zoo. We saw a baby giraffe and met a very saucy ostrich. The sloths just slept, but many of the primates were quite active. Our favorite part was watching the seals and the sea lions swim. They are so peaceful and aquatic. I could have spent all afternoon just observing them. Do you remember how much you loved watched the seals?

It got hot, so we stopped for a break and a snack. In your honor, I had a red slushie. It tasted divine. Roberta had to leave after that, but your daddy and I went to watch Sparky the sea lion do his tricks for fish. Remember how mom used a clicker to train Rosie, your service dog? Seals and sea lions also learn their skills and tricks via clicker training. Instead of cheese or hotdogs, they get raw fish and ice cubes! At the end of the show, we went to the tropical room. The mama and baby sloth were not there, but there were tons of fish and birds and turtles to enjoy. I think you would have liked it.

Tonight, we walked over to Shish for dinner, meeting our friends Daniel and Robin. I got my favorite, red lentil soup and pita bread. Some things never change. I have loved that dish since before you were born and I continue to order it every time we eat there. Yesterday, we stopped by next door at the Italian Pie shop for vanilla cokes. You would have approved of the garlic bread, it came with a shot glass of pizza red sauce. I have fond memories of you doing shots of that sauce when we would take you to Carbonnes Pizza. First you would do shots, then you would eat the cheesy garlic bread, and then last but not least, you would make quick work of a sausage and pepperoni pizza. These memories make me smile through the tears.

I heard from a lot of people that knew and loved you today. You live on, strong and healthy, and free, in our memories. I see you when I see male cardinals flying by or sitting in trees. Alissa sent me a video of cardinals she saw from her balcony in Hawaii, and teacher Linda sent me a beautiful video of a male cardinal in her backyard fountain. All of these birds looked very happy. My son, I hope and pray that you too, are happy. We miss you so much. Someday, we will all celebrate birthdays together again. In the meantime, please keep showing up as a cardinal, a monarch butterfly, or in any other form that pleases you. I am still working hard on getting your book published and bringing more attention both to autism and to osteosarcoma. I am now working on a second book called Letters to Ravi, Letters to God.

Thank you to everyone who reached out to use today. You are such good humans. Thank you to Karen, who sent the beautiful cardinal yard flag, which I have planted in the front yard. I am grateful to call you all my friends. Go forth, do good works, keep in touch. Peace, Harriet, Ravi’s mom.

God speaks, God moves

Good morning friends. It is still dark outside, the birds are not singing yet, but my muse has a few things to say.

My memories of last October are spotty at best. Some images will never leave my mind. Other times, forgotten images come bubbling up. Today, I woke up with two very clear memories. The first involves the word columbarium. While Ravi was in hospice, my goal was to spend every moment with him. My focus was only on him. I adamantly refused to make any plans for after he passed, because he was still with us and I wanted to focus on the living Ravi for as long as I could.

Time wrinkles here. I think this happened a few days after his passing. I was sitting in my favorite chair, praying and meditating. The word, columbarium, suddenly bubbled up in my mind. I had never even thought about this word before. I grabbed my phone and texted Elizabeth, our associate rector. I asked her if St. Clements had a columbarium, and could Ravi find a home there. Immediately, she answered me. Yes, our church has a columbarium in the downstairs chapel and St. Clements would be proud to give Ravi a resting place there. Looking back on this, I realize me instincts, or my ability to listen to God were exactly right. There was no reason to plan for Ravi’s demise while he was still living. I just focused on him and let God sort out the details.

October 12, 2024, is a blur in our minds. Ravi had passed and Robert and I were shattered. One by one two by two, our friends came to sit with us, to hold us, to mourn with us. Our wonderful rector, Joy, was out of town that weekend. I did not know when she would be back, or if she knew about Ravi. On impulse, whim, called by God, I picked up my phone and texted her. All I said was, “Can you please come?” I hit send, and there was a knock at the door. It was Joy, who enfolded us in huge hugs and just sat with us and let us weep. I am completely convinced that she was sent to us by God at that exact moment.

Slowly, the memories bubble up from last fall, often in the form of dreams. I want to end with something I find curious and totally off subject. When I prepare a blog to be written, Word Press suggests tags to go along with it, to attract more readers. Sometimes, the tags make sense, other times they are way off base. Whenever I talk about God, which is a lot, Word Press suggests that I tag this as fiction. If I even mention running, such as in my last post, Word Press wants to tag it as running, fitness, marathons. Hmmm. Yesterday, I wrote about Finish the Run 5km. Word Press adamantly wanted to tag this as a marathon. I have run plenty of 5kms and plenty of marathons. They are NOT the same thing. Ah well, AI, what can I say? Once again, thanks for reading. Be good humans, look for Ravi when you see cardinals or butterflies. Peace, 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.

Time Passes

Ravi, it has been nearly 4 months since we lost you. Time and space are funny things. Sometimes, I feel so close to you. Other times, all I can feel is grief. As a bus aid, I pass St. Clements Church twice a day. When the bus goes by, I give you a little wave, a thumbs up, and blow you a kiss. This is my twice a day ritual. Somehow, you keep me grounded as I head into the happy chaos of work. I feel your presence most strongly when I am on the playground at Bridge View School. Years ago, Principal Lisa and I poured concrete for a handicapped accessible playground. Since then, over a decade of students have enjoyed this play space. Like y0u, many of my students love to swing. Some can pump themselves into the air on their own. Others are happiest when I I push them high into the sky. It is then and there that I feel your presence. Often, while I am pushing a student, the sun peaks out from behind a cloud, and I know that you are saying hi.

The world is crazy right now. Basic human rights are being taken away. You would not understand this scary new world, and if you were here, I would do my best to shield you from it. You and I were so proud when you cast your vote for President Biden 4 years ago. We rejoiced when he won. Immediately after his administration ended, the world became a much darker place. The Medicaid that paid all your bills the last 22 months of your life is in danger of being taken away. The cancer research that prolonged your short life is frozen. I miss you deeply, but in a way, I am glad you are not part of this terrifying new world, but rather, hanging out with Jesus, and all those who have gone before.

Remember Mr. Rogers? His mother once told him that when things were scary to look for the helpers. There are helpers, Ravi. There are brave men, women, and transpeople who are standing up for what it is right and good. The Right Rev. Budde preached love and acceptance from the pulpit of the National Cathedral. She was the same person that offered the body of Matthew Shepherd sanctuary. There was no safe place for his body to rest until she had him interred at the Cathedral. I hope that you and Matthew and all the saints are dancing in heaven.

Boo Bear, I miss you more than mere words can express. Our house misses your energy. True, we have dogs and a cat and a hedgehog, but we miss your vibrant autistic energy. When I wake up in the morning, first thing, when I am in that state between dreams and reality, I believe, for a fleeting second that you are still here. Then, reality hits me like a freight train. Though life is hard and scary right now, I will continue to show up for you. Your daddy and I will be two of the helpers. Ravi, you were a good human. It is now the job of the rest of us to be good humans. I love you to the moon and back. Peace

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.