Stars Upheld

With only a few more doors to open on the Advent Calendar, I should probably try to shoehorn Thanksgiving into the blog. We like a bustling house for the holiday and invite others that don't have a feast to attend. Our place is on the route for a turkey trot so 6000 runners create a bit of an obstacle in getting to Mass and bringing in guests, however. A reblooming Iris, "Plasma" opened just in time to grace our table. A second rebloomer, "Delta Lady," snuck in a purple surprise to overlap the first Sunday of Advent. We made the most of Alex's break and decorated the tree as the first snowflakes of the season set the scene. Mom and I attended a Cathedral Christmas concert at the Basilica followed by a delicious lunch at Pappy's. Gigi's honor's choir sang in some service concerts and in the high school Christmas concert. St. Nicholas filled shoes and brought the 2025 ornament marking our 25th wedding anniversary and inviting Mrs. Claus to the garland. 

Alex was in a play, a senior final project 10 minute show entitled "Annnd Scene of the Crime," where he portrayed an unhinged cop in an improv sketch. The senior got an A and Alex was a hoot. 

I attended Gigi's school Mass for the Feast of the Immaculate Conception and was so happy to see Fr. Ed as celebrant. He baptized Alex and was the pastor at a pariah in which I taught and attended. The first time we met I had gone into early labor with Ben. He took the chalk out of my hand in my second grade classroom so I could get to the hospital. 

 Just before Thanksgiving, my friend Sarah suffered a serious medical event. She was granted a few weeks of time with her family and friends before passing away at 48 leaving behind a husband and two daughters. Sarah and I met as nursing mothers 20 years ago in a support group which became a playgroup for our babies-then toddlers-turned preschoolers. We stayed close as the kids grew. She was a tremendous no nonsense light of service and humor and quiet generosity. 

Sarah was an excellent and well respected paramedic. She always had a special connection to Ben as a STARS (Special Needs Tracking and Awareness Response System) and MDA (Muscular Dystrophy Association) kid. Sarah was integral to the STARS program which served pediatric patients with complex medical needs.  We could give Ben's STARS number when calling 911 knowing any first responders would have quick access to his most relevant medical information without us having to explain everything in a crisis. She also helped out with MDA camps over the years. The very first time our kids got to attend a Blues game was because Sarah gave us her tickets as a cheer up Ben surprise. The night before Sarah passed I had a Facebook memory pop up of Sarah sending me a message that she would be praying for us the next day (likely for a Ben surgery). 

Sarah had a very fitting and beautiful funeral. The Basilica was filled with folks in uniform paying respect. Bag pipes played as the honor guard covered the entire plaza before the church and well over 100 lighted emergency vehicles in procession escorted her in single file to her place of rest. Sarah taught me the importance of celebrating little things and of giving without counting the cost. May the soul of the faithful departed, by the mercy of God, be at peace. 

Scruffy Little Mangers

Part of solving the medical havoc of October entailed health insurance changes the firsts of October, November, and for the fun of it, December, but all seems to be soothed for now. I'll complain Ben's wheelchair is still in need of one of the repairs he's been working on since the summer, but he's making do. 

Gigi and I took a turn serving the hungry with the Missionaries of Charity and sold Christmas trees at the church tree lot. She ended her volleyball season and got to be an Advent dancer in a school prayer service. She had her high school interview, made a pi Pie for her math teacher, and sold a record number of Advent candles for the Little Flowers, being her last chance at the table. 

When we moved into our house over 12 years ago the realtor commented that the house in disrepair next door would be torn down within the year. Nearly every house on our side of the street has been demolished and replaced with infill since then, but her prediction was off by 12 years. It's a little noisy in my home office, but I'm like a toddler boy fascinated by the diggers and dozers that creep past my window squashing siding, moving earth, and felling trees.

Attendance at our traditional open door Thanksgiving took a bit of a hit due to under weathered family members which scared off all but the bravest of souls. 

Inspired by the snow and the Nutcracker ballet, we decked our halls before the boys headed back for their dorms and readied ourselves for Advent. 

I was at Mass one day recently looking at the golden tabernacle that holds the Eucharist, that we believe to be truly Jesus, body, blood, soul, and divinity and pondered why He would choose to leave the perfection of heaven, to be in all the tabernacles of the world so that he could come to us, even unworthy little me, then thought of the manner that He chose to do this, through the sinless vessel of Mary, another more worthily created tabernacle, as a vulnerable unborn baby to be delivered in the hay. But that's just how crazy in love Jesus is with us. He yearns to cover the lowliest, the darkest corners, the hidden places. I wrote this little reflection and since then have been asking Mary to help make me into a little manger before every Eucharist, an offered unworthy resting place in which to adore Him, just like He wants. 

I am not worthy that You should enter under my roof. But If I imagine myself like the lowly feeding trough, the manger found in the cold musty cave. Mary could possibly see within me a needs must place that could make do for a little while. She could see more in me. Dust me off, make my rough places smooth, clear away what offends and allow me to be a temporary resting place for you, Lord. Mary, if it pleases you, make me into a little manger for Jesus. Nestle Him beneath my heart, cradle His sweet little newborn body pressed into the simple linens you’ve arranged for His nesting comfort, and come, let us adore Him. How vulnerable and humble our Lord, to be descended among the scraps and lowing. How can it be that my Lord should come to me? We adore You. We consume You, and little by little we become a little crumb more like You. Rather, we adore You. You allow us to consume You, and we pray to one day become consumed by You.