Tag: life

This, that, and the other

Dear Ravi,

Sorry that I have been remiss in writing to you. I have visited you several times, but my muse has gone quiet. I think that she is tired of the winter and lacking in inspiration. I am very excited about several things. The Gathered Community at St. Clement’s continues to grow and gain forward momentum. As you know, we are creating a new worship style for non- neurotypical people, just like you! Our next service will be during Holy Week, and then we shall plunge full time into providing this ministry in the fall of 2026. This does not mean we won’t be working feverishly behind the scenes to pull this off in the meantime! In other news, I am going to a writer’s workshop in April where I can spend 9 hours with 200 other writers refining my craft and getting a chance to pitch our manuscript to an agent. Last week, I met with a different agent for a review of our letter of query. She had good suggestions for me how to tweak the work to make it more appealing to other agents, and I spent about a week stewing about how to do this. Inspiration dawned at 3:30 this morning, so I hopped up and got to work. Right now, the letter is waiting to be edited by your daddy, and the cat and the dog are napping on my pile of notes. I am under a heated blanket with a cup of coffee. For the moment, life is peaceful.

Do you remember in 2019 when I had an emergency spinal fusion? That surgery, fusing C4 through C7, gave me 6 good years. What I have recently discovered is that bones either above or below a fusion begin to degenerate over time. I have not been able to run since October, due to the pain. I did weeks of PT, but it only brought a modicum of relief. At the direction of my neurosurgeon, I am going in for more scans and nuclear medicine next Tuesday. Hopefully, these tests will pinpoint where the pain is coming from. He thinks that doing steroid injections into my cervical spine will be the next step. Historically, I have not had much luck with steroid injections, but he wants to try this before possible surgery. Right now, he cannot guarantee that the surgery will fix the pain, and if he does choose to operate, he would fuse C1, C2, and C3 to the base of my skull, making me lose 90 % of the movement in my neck. Last time I had surgery the surgeon made an incision in the front of my neck, which had a shorter recovery time than if he had gone in through the back, which cuts a lot of muscle. This time, the surgery would have to go in through the back of neck. If the surgeon were to go in through the front, I could lose the ability to swallow or to speak. Obviously, I am not a fan of this idea! I was disappointed with this particular neurosurgeon as he did not seem to take into account the amount of pain that I am in, and how it is difficult to do activities of daily living. He did not give me a lot of options, or much, if any, hope of being pain free and able to properly function. I did call Mayo Clinic, where you had two lifesaving surgeries, but they will not take my insurance. So, I am looking for a second opinion within my network. To say the least, American healthcare is a joke. There is always tons of waiting, negotiating with insurance, and catastrophically high bills to pay. I am more than a bit disgusted.

There are, however, things to be excited about. Eventually, spring will come and I can work in the garden. I will get to see your two trees that we planted blossom and grow. There are writing workshops to attend and blogs to write. There are agents to talk to. Your story will not be forgotten. There are Sunday school classes to teach and worship services to attend. So, not all is bleak. I hope you know how much I love and miss you. Please pray for Mercury, as she has done some incredibly foolish and damaging things. Please pray for your Uncle Rob as he still continues his battle with cancer. Daddy and I love you forever and ever. Mom.

International Childhood Cancer Day

Dear Ravi,

As you know, I stopped in to see you earlier this morning. I hope you could hear the happy chaos of my Sunday school class down the hallway. They were few in number today but made up for it in enthusiasm and sheer noise. Today is International Childhood Cancer Day, a day that we reflect on the living and on those who have passed. We also reflect on the lifelong afflictions that cancer survivors live with. Even when the chemo is over, the bell is ring, the parties have stopped, the symptoms from chemo remain. More often than not, survivors suffer from permanent neuropathy, inability to digest many foods, neurological problems, and osteoporosis. These are the quiet symptoms that are rarely said out loud. After one rings the bell, one’s family and friends except everything to return to “normal”. Ravi, there is no normal after that first scan shows a tumor. Life is turned upside down, capsized, and that ship will never sail easily again. That first scan marks the end of an era, an era where cancer patients were “healthy.” It’s not just the vomiting and hair loss. A cancer survivor may seem alright on the outside, but there are a myriad of health problems on the inside that they will battle for the rest of their lives. My love, you did not survive long enough to suffer the aftermath of chemotherapy. You lived with cancer as long as you could, and then you gracefully and peacefully passed away in my arms. You ascended directly into heaven, leaving your daddy and me to try and comprehend a life without you. Life still does not make any sense. Minnesota is still in turmoil. Our immigrant neighbors hide in their houses. Children are afraid to go to school. Parents are afraid to go to work or to buy groceries. The Whipple Building has become a transport station where innocent people are sent to concentration camps. These are bleak times, but the brave people of our state are fighting back. We march, we protest, we bring aid and food to our neighbors. We call our representatives. I have never been more heartbroken for my state, but again I have never been so proud to be a Minnesota. I moved here 27 years ago and set down taproots. I raised you and your sister here. You are grounded here.

It is a sunny day. Parkas are not needed. Two of the dogs are on the back patio, sunbathing. Gloria and Nikki are inside sharing a sunbeam. This is a false tease, a false spring. Temperatures will drop this week, and there is a chance of snow. Nonetheless, we have off shaken off the deep freeze that we felt down to our bones a few weeks ago. The ice on the sidewalks have melted and the bird songs sound a bit louder. With spring, hope will come.

I miss you, Ravi. Please pray for your sister, Stirling. She has made some terrible mistakes, and I fear that her wellbeing in on the line. She was not there for you during your illness or even at your funeral, but she is still family and we pray for reconciliation. Pray also for peace and victims of fear, injustice, and oppression. Remember your baptismal covenant. You and your sister were both baptized into the body of Christ and that will stay with you forever. You are now one of the company of saints and angels, and martyrs. I will continue in your light and in your memory. Right now, Daddy is a juggling with some dear friends. I am sitting in my reading chair, in the sunshine, reflecting on the amazing life that your lived. 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.

World Cancer Day

Dear Ravi,

First of all, some very good news. Two cancer acts have been signed into law. This includes the Mikaela Naylon Give Kids a Chance Act, and the Accelerating Kids’ Access to Care Act. Mikaela was a young woman with osteosarcoma. In her final weeks of life, while on hospice care, she journeyed to Washington DC and spoke on Capitol Hill about the need for more modern treatments to combat rare diseases. Her final acts were ones of advocacy. I wish I could reach out and give her mother a huge hug. Mikaela was like you, fierce and strong, even while facing a stage 4 cancer diagnosis. I will light a candle for her this Sunday at church.

Daddy and I are back from Arizona, adapting to the cold. It is not sub zero anymore, so we have been taking the dogs for daily walks. I even ran a little bit with Gloria, yesterday. It is still very icy, so I am being cautious. I just received a very nice phone call from April, at a Christian publishing company. She said that their review board had read our manuscript, thought it was very well written and interesting and would like to offer me a contract. I am expecting several more conversations with publishers this week and then will choose the one that best fits our needs and our budget. Someway or another, Ravi, we produced at 362-page document that will be released in book, audio and eBook form. It does not seem real. I have wanted to be a writer since Helen Trew first put a pencil in my hand, gave me a journal, and said that I could write anything that I wished. I have been keeping a journal or a notebook ever since. What makes me very sad is that Anabel got hold off all of my notebooks from college, read them and then threw them away. She said that they were just too sad. This begs the question, of course, what was she doing reading my personal journals? In them I also had letters from Mom Sue and friends, jottings on books I had read, what it was like to be a collegiate runner and scholar, and lots of other things as well. Over 30 years have passed, but I still grieve the loss of those notebooks. It felt like she was stealing my voice and erasing my existence. This is only one of the many reasons your father and I have cut contact with my family of origin. Everyone has a story, and they deserve to be able to write their thoughts and not have them thrown into a trash can like they did not matter.

Enough of that, I am still on a high that publishers are reading our book and deeming it fit for print. In the past year, we have had over 4,000 visitors to our blog site. The bulk of these readers are from the United States, but some are from other far flung areas. We have readers from Pakistan, Vietnam, China, Japan, Denmark, Germany, Ireland, the UK and more. Your story is being heard. Ravi, my love, you are not forgotten.

The only thing that bothers me slightly about World Cancer Day is people tend to romanticize it, or make the cancer patients into superheroes or angels. Ravi, your bravery was that of a superhero, but I will never call you an angel. You were a bit of an imp. You stole French fries from complete strangers, launched yourself out of your bedroom window to walk to Super America to get gummi bears, took unchaperoned trips to Subway, and for 22 years marched to the beat of your own calliope. Darling, I love you dearly, but I earned every single grey hair that is on my head! You were sweet, caring, and funny, but you were not angelic. Total stop.

I had a really good conversation with Vanessa at the Osteosarcoma Institute yesterday. We were talking about fund raising. Saroma month is in either June or July and I will do some fund raising then. I have also decided to add a shoutout to OSI at the end of our book as a way for readers to make contributions towards better osteosarcoma outcomes. This seems like a better and more efficient way to raise money than just trying to do it through Facebook or social media.

Ravi, I miss you. I feel that good things are going to happen with our book, but I wish that you were here with me to share the joy and excitement. I never claimed to be your voice, but I am proud to tell your story. Love you to the moon and back. Mom.

Arizona!

Dear Ravi,

Your daddy and I took a week long trip to Arizona to escape the cold, snow, and political upheaval in the Twin Cities. In short, it was wonderful. Pam and Jay hosted us at lovely house in the foothills that they had access to. There was a lemon tree in the front yard and saguaro cactus everywhere. It has been a long time since I have seen such beautiful sunsets, they cast such lovely colors on the mountains. The high temperatures were in the mid 70’s, perfect for sitting on the patio drinking coffee, or going for hikes up the canyon.

We took several hikes up a nearby canyon and my wish came true. I got to see a road runner. They are incredibly fast and very well camouflaged. Unlike the cartoon, they do not say beep beep, but they are very entertaining. We also saw a mama javelina and 2 babies, and another huge javelina standing on the side of the road, near the house. We did not get close to them at all as they are notoriously bad tempered. I have to admit, even the babies are rather ugly.

We had so many marvelous adventures. One day, daddy and I went to the Pima Air Museum. There is so much history there, and so many different types of planes. We saw the Air Force One that Kennedy flew on. This same plane also brought back the hostages from Iran and the POWs from the Iraq War. It was an honor just to be near it. There is another part of the museum devoted to World War II. It is run by veterans. Sadly, we only had a half an hour there before it closed for the day. We just missed seeing a pilot from World War II. He is 102 years old and comes to the museum every Thursday. A different World War II pilot is there on Mondays. I want to return as soon as possible. As you know, there are very few veterans from this war left alive.

On Saturday night we went to the Mount Lemmon Observatory. Ravi, it took my breath away. The observatory is at 9,161 feet in elevation. We got to see a marvelous sunset, had dinner, then went to the observatory. We saw Saturn, Jupiter, Sirius, the nebula of Orion, and the moon. Everything was so clear, you could clearly see the rings around Saturn. There were also a number of graduate astronomy students there to answer questions. They were fascinating to listen to. Ravi, I knew your daddy was an astronomy nerd, but I had no idea that it ran so deep. The students and their leader complimented him on his questions and at the end of the night told him that if he were ever looking for a job, he should give them a call! I am very proud of him.

Today, Sunday, was also a really good day. We met Tom and Karen at the glider port and went for rides. I have not been in a glider since at least 2001, and it was a blast. There was no lift and plenty of sink, so the ride only lasted about 20 minutes, but I savored every second of it. Daddy also went up for a ride and thoroughly enjoyed himself. He won’t get to glide again until at least April, when the field here dries out, but it was a marvelous way to spend the first day of February.

Alas, all good things must come to an end. We hung out at the airfield as long as we could, then had to head to the Tucson airport. We hadn’t eaten since breakfast, so in your honor we stopped by a Taco Bell on our way. I want to note that we did eat lots of great authentic Mexican food while we were there, but this little side trip was done just for you.

The dogs and cat were very happy upon our return. It is not quite as cold as it was when we left and there is a fresh coat of snow. Though I loved all of our trip to the Southwest, it feels good to be home. We have work to do here, to defend our state and to fight for democracy. I have the final clean edit of your book and am busy looking for an agent. I plan to return to work part time in March. Daddy is taking another welding class this month, too. I love you and miss you, but I felt your presence in the mountains and the desert. Love you to the moon and back. Mom.

55

Dear Ravi,

It is snowing today and the temperature is about to drop to between 20 and 30 degrees F below zero this weekend. The dogs have taken up permanent lodging under a heated throw with me. Today is my 55th birthday and I so wish that you were here to share it with me. Do you know why my 32nd birthday was so special? It was my first birthday as a new mom! Pictures show me 23 years younger, exhausted from little sleep, and utterly jubilant. You were the center of my world. In another year, Mercury would join us, and the two of you would become the center of my world. I dreaded my birthday last year. I did not want to move on from age 53 to 54. When I was 53, I could still hold you in my arms and tell you how much I loved you. Honestly, I can only remember bits and pieces of the last year. This is one of the many reasons I keep a journal. I look back at prior entries and marvel at the things that I wrote, things that I no longer remember. There were good times of travel and dear friends. There were also days of deep grief when I couldn’t even leave the house. I honor both of those memories.

Today was a good day. Daddy knows the way to my heart. He brought my roses, good coffee and new running shoes. I received cards from many dear friends. I feel loved, and not too completely wrecked. I am amazed how good the new running shoes feel! One is supposed to rotate out old shoes after about 400 miles. This poor pair of shoes has carried me for at least 625 miles. When I took them off and pulled on a new pair of Saucony Triumph my feet gave an audible gasp of relief. Perhaps I should rotate my shoes more regularly. Because of all the snow and ice, I am afraid to walk outside. I don’t want to fall and reinjure my back. I did get in about 2 miles just pacing around stores today. That helped. We are going to warmer climes next week and I look forward to daily walks and hikes. I miss moving my body. The treadmill helps, but I really want to feel warm air on my face and be able to work up a good sweat. I miss sunlight! It feels like we have not seen the sun in weeks.

Thank you for being a most beautiful part of my life. It is hard to pick up the pieces and keep on going. If there is cake or really good coffee in heaven, by all means, please have some for me. Gloria is being very snuggly these days and can often be found on my lap under a heated blanket. Jack Jack is his usual merry self. Raya is becoming much braver. She is learning sit and shake. She is Daddy’s velcro dog, which is exactly what I wanted to happen when we adopted her 13 months ago. You would like her. She is very sweet and silly. That’s all I have for right now. I hope you are dancing in heaven with Dave Coyne and Dave Evans. The three of you were dear, beautiful people. I love you forever. Mom.

What is your dream job?

Dear Ravi,

This was the writing prompt for today. I can answer this easily, caring for you was my dream job. You had PCAs since you were four years old. Some of them were wonderful and became a part of our family for years. Others I quickly fired, such as the one that emptied our liquor cabinet. Daddy drinks rarely and I do not drink at all. One day when reaching for some cooking sherry Daddy noticed that almost all of the bottles of alcohol in our cabinet were empty! We had three different PCAs at the time, and I trusted two of them with my life. The culprit was obvious to us and he was quickly dispatched.

When you were fifteen you developed epilepsy. The nurse in the ER warned me that I would never sleep the same again, that I would always sleep with one ear open. She was entirely correct. Even now, I still sleep with one ear open. It’s a special needs mommy thing. At this time, I realized that I could not work outside of the home, because I had to be ready at any moment to come get you from school or an activity in case you had a seizure. I dropped my tutoring obligations and my nanny job and became your full time PCA. As to your epilepsy, you were trialed on many different medications. At one point, you had a beautiful run of 18 months seizure free. That was amazing. Sadly, after that the seizures became much more common. After you were diagnosed with osteosarcoma your seizures became so much worse. My theory was that your stress level from being in the hospital was super high, your body was very fragile, and this caused you to have more frequent and severe seizures. Your doctors admitted that my theory might be correct, but they did not have a lot of data about treatment resistance epilepsy and chemotherapy.

Boo, I loved being your PCA. We could choose to do what we pleased with our days when you were not in school or when we were shut down during Covid. We had our own little bubble of friends and our own fun activities we could do on our own. You did not like online school so Alissa and I took over teaching you everything we could about the outside world. We followed your interests, and even when our world seemed very small, you were happy and thriving.

After your osteosarcoma diagnosis, carrying for you was a 24/7 kind of job, but I still loved it. Your daddy and I were perpetually exhausted, but it did not matter. You were the center of our existence. Never have you been more loved. I have had great jobs and terrible jobs since 1989, but I never had a job like I had when I was your caretaker. Though it is often painful to think back on the last 22 years of your life, you, me, and daddy were one connected unit. We laughed together and cried together. And, at the very end we said goodbye to you as your soul slipped away to freedom.

I am working part time at most right now. I don’t want to work full time. I tried it less than 8 weeks after we lost you and it nearly destroyed me. I still love being a PCA and caretaking, but it is much less of an emotional commitment. I can go home at the end of the day and turn my mind to other things. Ravi, you were my dream job, the best job ever. Please know that. You appear in my dreams often. Sometimes, I wake up smiling, other times I wake up in tears. You will never be forgotten. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to help you, love you, care for you. Love you to the moon and back. Mom.

If I Could Uninvent Something

Dear Ravi,

This was the writing prompt for this afternoon. Can WordPress make it any more easy? You and I both know what we would uninvent, number 47. I am not going to give him a title or a name. He does not deserve it. He is a pathetic man/child that is sending federal troops into Minnesota. Unlike the ICE agents who do not have a clue about how to handle the frigid conditions of our home state, these troops are trained in Alaska. Yes, Alaska, where it is so cold that they run the school buses all winter long because otherwise they will never start up again. Hmmm.

Fortunately, our governor has another plan up his sleeve. He has called up the MN national guard. These are homegrown Minnesotans who probably grew up playing pond hockey without pads or helmets and are thrilled when the temperatures fall off the thermometer. I wish to high heaven that this was not happening. I don’t want ICE, federal troops, or the national guard in our metro area. Minnesotans look after their own and like to be left alone. Sure, we may invite you to Twins or Vikings game, or to enjoy our symphony, but then we would like to you to go back where you came from.

The irony, Ravi, is that they are scooping up and deporting Natives. People who have lived on this land long before Caucasians ever showed up. Despite the fact that these people are carrying MN drivers’ licenses and tribal IDs, they have been disappeared anyway. Our church, St Clement’s, was built on tribal land. We are acutely aware of this and make certain that our doors are always open to everyone regardless of race, color, or creed.

So, though yesterday was a victory, chasing the white supremists out of Minneapolis, ICE just seems to have scattered into the suburbs. Right now I hear reports that they are in Rochester, stealing Mayo patients out of their cars. Mayo was set up by an order of peace-loving nuns. I am certain that this was not even in their most bizarre nightmares. Mayo saved your life on two occasions, and I have a very special place for them in my heart.

So, we both know what I want to uninvent. He has done nothing but harm our country. His first term was bad enough, but he came roaring back with a vengeance. He thinks he needs Greenland. He wants to terrify blue states. In short, he is a monster, and that is giving monsters a bad name. I miss you my son, I love you. I will go on resisting by alerting our neighbors of danger, buying groceries and supplies for your school and in any other small ways I can think of. I love you to the moon and back. Mom.

Muted?

Dear Ravi,

The world is going nuts. There are ICE agents all over the metro area and beyond. Ordinary citizens are being dragged from the cars and disappeared. Our so called “president”, I will not say his name, thinks that our lovely Somali community is garbage and they should all be deported. The vast majority of them are US citizens. I think of the awesome nurses and aids who took such good care of you at Masonic Children’s Hospital, many of them were people of color. I fear for them. Minnesota is a place for everyone. Our diversity makes us stronger. The only thing we do not need is ICE.

Today, Daddy and I filled up the SUV with groceries and supplies and took it to your beloved Bridge View School. We have been a part of that community for nearly 19 years. As you know, most of the students there are children of immigrants and their parents are afraid to leave their homes to take them to school, to go to work, to get groceries, etc. BVS was oddly and eerily silent. The doors were locked. The once busy, bustling halls were devoid of students. A few staff with walkie talkies were near all the doors, ready to report any sign of danger. It broke my heart. We delivered our groceries, diapers, and wipes, promised to be back again with more supplies next week, and drove away. I felt like I left a piece of me behind. We love BVS and will always support them, as they supported and loved you from the time that you were 5 years old until you passed away at age 22. They are good people.

Much to my amusement and disgust, I found out that Facebook is muting all of my blog posts. Apparently, the algorithm does not like someone who writes about peace, loving one’s neighbor, autism, or God. Your daddy and I are pacifists! I do not see myself as a threat, but I hope to be a light bearer. I want you to be remembered. I want to talk about autism and osteosarcoma. I reached out to many of our friends and asked them to go to my website and subscribe to our blog. It’s free, I hope it is hope giving, and I want parents of autistic children to have a safe place to come.

It is very cold here. The sidewalks are extremely slippery. I have not walked the dogs in weeks. I am too afraid of falling and of someone possibly hurting our dogs. If Kristi Noem shot her own dog, what would stop an ICE agent from taking a pot shot at one of ours? The ordinary world is no longer ordinary.

Ravi, you were one of the bravest people I have ever known. Please help me to be brave. I want to keep reaching out, delivering groceries, helping people through our church. I told you how happy I was to see a church full of immigrants last Sunday. I hope they felt needed and loved and will keep coming back. God is love. St. Clement’s is love. I have checked in with all the people who helped me care for you and they are all safe right now. I will continue to do daily check ins. I know that Mercury is somewhere in the Metro area and I pray that they are safe, too. These are very strange and difficult times. I miss you profoundly but rejoice that you are safe in heaven with other dear friends and relatives who have gone before and after you. I will hold you in my heart until I can hold you in my arms. Love you forever, Mom.

Merry Christmas Boo

Dear Ravi,

From your most adoring mom, may I wish you a merry Christmas. I hope you are having a wonderful day in heaven, but I suppose every day in heaven is wonderful. As you know, Daddy and I have chosen to celebrate Christmas liturgically but not commercially. This means that we plunge ourselves deeper into our work at St. Clements, but we do not decorate, put up a tree, or exchange presents. You were never a huge fan of Christmas, anyway. You did not see the reason for upsetting your routine or bringing a tree or unnecessary boxes into the house. Though we never pushed the Santa myth on you or Mercury, we did put out stockings. You liked those because we stuffed them with your favorite kind of treats and sensory toys. You never had any interest in opening boxes or bags. If you found one thing you liked, you wandered off with it. We would let Mercury open boxes to their heart’s content but would let you go at your own pace. Sometimes, it took several days to open all your gifts and that is okay. Everyone can do Christmas in their own way.

Yesterday was busy. I had PT in the morning. Right after lunch Daddy and I went to St Clements. The first service of the day was the sensory friendly service led by Joy. We sat in a circle in the parish hall and built a creche scene out of blocks. We used the sand table as a base and as Joy read the Gospel, she invited the participants to use blocks, figures, feathers, and various paper animals to create the scene. This was greeted with much enthusiasm. We celebrated the Eucharist and sang a few songs. Everyone was engaged and happy. At the end, we chatted a bit and shared some snacks. An hour later nearly everyone left, and Daddy and I put things away. We went downstairs to visit you, and then Daddy went home to let the dogs out.

Next up was the Christmas pageant. This was a much higher energy service. Half of the children who had originally wanted to be sheep decided that they would rather be angels. Many of the angels defected and became sheep. No problem, I just stuffed of many tiny bodies in the costume of their choice. Lots of adoring parents and grandparents attended this service. It was well contained chaos. The older children did well. The sheep, shepherds, and angels hung in there. It was late afternoon, they were all tired, in need of a snack, and totally hyped up about it being nearly Christmas. Joy led all of us through the Eucharist, dispatched us in record time and dismissed us with Christmas greetings. I helped all the children get out of their costumes and put the costumes and tinsel garlands away. I popped into the chapel to say hello to you and then went home and collapsed for two hours.

I was back at church by 7:15 and robed up to be an acolyte. There were three women acolytes, 3 women lay Eucharistic ministers, and Joy, George, and a supply priest as Elizabeth had finally succumbed to the bug she had been fighting for the previous nine days. Ravi, it was a beautiful service and the female energy at the altar was off the charts. There was beautiful music, candles, chanting, and best of all, no incense! Worshiping at the altar, surrounded by other women was exactly where I wanted to be at that moment. It was an amazing blessing. Post service, I went downstairs to put my robe away. I was going to stop in the chapel one more time to say hi, but there was a bunch of older teens and young adults in there, having a marvelous time! I figured that you are a 23-year-old male, you were surrounded by your peers and did not need your mother poking her nose in on your fun. So, I blew you a kiss and headed out into the night. I think we both had a great evening.

Something you may not know about Christmas, Ravi. Twenty-five years ago, on Christmas Eve, your daddy and I got engaged. It was not a terribly romantic proposal, but it suited us just fine. We knew that we were meant to be together. Soon after, we went to a Christmas party with our friends and announced our engagement. Penny had just found a diamond ring at an antique store and decided that this should by my loaner ring until Robert and I picked out one just for me. I happily wore that ring all winter and into the early spring until we chose the one that I wear now. Penny has always had a very special place in my heart, but she made a wonderful evening even better.

So, now it is Christmas morning, and the pets are dozing at my feet. It is still dark outside. As usual, my muse picks odd times to become active. I do my best writing between 3 and 5 am. In a few hours, Daddy and I will go to the Pagoda restaurant and pick up Chinese Dim Sum and bring it to Dan and Robin and a few friends. This is our new tradition that we began last year and we like it. Later in the day, I will walk the dogs and probably take a nap. We don’t need presents and a tree, we have each other and some dear friends. I wish that you and Mercury were joining us, but I carry both of you in my heart. Ravi, today is the day that the Word became incarnate. I know that you are celebrating in heaven. Someday, we will all be together again. Until then, I love you forever and always, Mom.