Am I Being Paranoid or is this just Christmas in DC?

Is it just me, or are the attacks on Christmas are getting more sophisticated?

At first, they were obvious. "Happy Holidays and Season's Greetings!" and the forever annoying "Xmas." No other word in the world has been substituted with a single letter for fear of offending someone's non religious sensibilities. The removal of the Christmas scenes from public square or equally desperate and inappropriate hijacking of Haunaka to make all those December religious observances the same, came next. People finally got wise and got mad when the stands by the street said, "Holiday Trees."

This year, "Merry Christmas" is back...as a gesture of good will to those practicing people who spend money. The trappings of the season festoon the malls. But the color scheme has changed.

Torn between the very real desire to have everyone mark this occasion of December 25th with a massive credit card induced hangover in January, and the fervent wish to disavow any genuine reason to be celebrating, marketers have hit upon the new guaranteed inoffensive means to deck the halls while still avoiding irritation of that atheist that lurks just around the block.

Blue and white pentagrams and lots and lots of just faint blue lights.

They're up all over town, stars that aren't religious or iconic in nature, in colors not traditionally associated with the Christmas tradition as practiced by non practicing people everywhere. The municipalities can breathe a sigh of relief, as the ACLU will not be scrutinizing them for putting up "Winter Lights."

If we complain, they'll be able to say there's no substance, no there....there.

But I say, two can play at that game. Let's hijack the secularists attempts to take over December with this blue light special. Let's ascribe religious symbolic qualities to those lights, which after all remind us of both Mary's mantle and the colors of the flag of Israel. The lights remind us of the Holy land and in this Holy season, call us all to prayer. It will annoy those who secretly root for the unreformed Grinch immensely. We could really tick them off if we publicly announce we will be reminded to pray each time we see those Winter lights.

Let's greet others with "Have a Blessed Christmas" and "Happy Advent!" until December 24th, when we can say "Enjoy a Holy Christmas Eve." If we say "Merry Christmas" with enough reverence, we will bother them because we haven't shut up and gone away to let them drink their eggnog in the bitter peace born of being surrounded with people afraid to disagree.

So Deck the Halls in that Blue and White if you wish, just tell everyone the reason. And God bless us everyone, The Lord knows we need it.

P.S. Hoping I haven't danced too close to the near occasion of sin by this post. Happy Advent!

Dear Paul

Dear Paul,

Thank God.

It's hard to believe you were born just two months ago. On Thursday, November 20th, we surrendered you to the good doctors and nurses of Children's hospital so they could repair a part of your heart that has been missing since before you were born. It has been a long slow walk to the day, when the surgery would make for you, a whole new heart.

You survived. As your mother, I can only say, "Thank God." Thank God. Thank God. Thank God.

There are so many stories I will have to share with you as you grow older.

We went into the hospital on October 30th, not realizing yet how serious your condition was. You have been in a hospital since. Sometimes your father watched and held you, sometimes your aunt, and sometimes, it was me. Whenever I would take a break for some food or fresh air, I found myself falling into rote prayer; the Our Father, the Hail Mary, the Our Father, the Hail Mary. Sometimes in my distraction, I merged the two. I feared saying "Thy Will be done." I feared the outcome of your story, wouldn't be what I wanted. And I didn't want to be angry or disappointed with God. I feared I would be.


Going to mass, the readings said "Ask." Friends were praying for you. Family was praying for you. Complete strangers were praying for you. I was afraid to ask.

The dull ache of knowing what might happen made me want to throw myself into the familiar comfort of taking care of my other children or writing, anything but asking. I still prayed, but I didn't dare ask.


I know when I became ready for your surgery. I know when I became able to ask and accept the answer. I know the place and the time and the moment. We were at the Hospital for Sick Children, a place for those with less than acute conditions,. The hope had been to keep you there, monitoring your heart and breathing, and allow you to grow a bit before having surgery. Within hours of your arrival there, you developed a high fever, turned gray, and your oxygen levels began to occasionally drop. Your heart was showing signs of failure. I got frantic. I was afraid. I called to the nurses and the doctor on the floor.

The doctor took my son in his arms and listened to my concerns. He ordered me to get some rest. I didn't want to, I wanted action. He told me he would watch you. That wasn't good enough I snapped. He looked at me sadly and said, "You have to trust me. I know how precious life is." His words were God's echoing in my heart. "You have to trust me. I know how precious life is." The doctor rocked my son to sleep.

We had you baptized by the visiting priest at the hospital the next day. Just as the doctors wanted your body as healthy and as ready as possible for the surgery, we wanted your spirit ready as well.

The night before your operation, the cardiologist drew a picture of your heart as it was and how it would be. It was not lost on me that what the surgeon would build in you looked like a cross. It was not lost on me that without this cross, you would die.

We watched the nurses prep you to be taken away. We joked with the anesthesiologists who gently carried you to the operating room and allowed us to kiss you several times before leaving. We could only surrender you out of necessity. Watching your bright eyes, I remembered the words. "You have to trust me."

This year Paul, we keep finding our hearts expanded. Your brothers and sisters have been wrapped in love by their extended family. I know we could not have weathered this time without them. Your Grandparents, your aunts and uncles, and your church family as well, all have helped you and our family endure this season that sometimes felt like Advent, and other times like Lent. Brothers and sisters have drawn you pictures. Your cousins have written you letters. You Paul, at two months, have been a source of warmth and comfort and wisdom to all of us. You Paul, at two months are well loved.

Over the years to come, I will have to tell you of prayer warriors in Texas and second graders in Colorado who said the rosary for you. I will have to tell you of the humor group online that included a devout reform Jew who put your name on a prayer list, and the woman with whom I had vigorous political debate, who asked her whole church of 2,500 people to pray for you. You were a witness to another mother, who suffered a crisis pregnancy that ended in death but not abortion.  You were prayed for by the sisters of Saint Paul, and your grandparents lit candles in churches all over Italy for you during the summer.I will wrap you in a hand knit blanket made by a writer in Canada I've never met and show you the 104 emails that came just today, wishing you well. We will introduce you to your parish family; men and women and children who have prayed and done carpool and provided hugs and bagels and chocolate and play dates for your brothers and sisters. All of this experience has been humbling. All of this prayer and love for you, a child few of these people have seen, and fewer have held, it overwhelms.

This multitude of prayers reflects tremendous faith. This outpouring reveals the lavish quality of God's love manifested in this whole Church, this Body of Christ. All this love for one, for you, God has for all. Paul, you continue to reveal God's love. You coming home will feel like Christmas and Thanksgiving and Easter all at once. The prayers and love thus far received on your behalf, feel like a spiritual wedding feast.

So be well Paul. I ask God for you to be well. Stay with us and continue in your quiet way to remind us to thank God for all this time and for all these people. I thank God for the gift of you.

Love and prayers,

Mom

I'm It!

When I was a kid, I was never any good at tag.

Having a tracheotomy made running something I did but not with any swiftness. So if I got it, I stayed it.

But cybertag is something that I've never played before.

Mighty Mom, writes a blog called "My Wonderful Life." She can really blog because she uses pictures and buttons and tags. She tagged me.

What does this mean? I went to her blog to find out.

She has this button award which I can receive if
I write six things that warm my heart.

So here goes:
1)my husband's letters. He writes like a tapestry weaver, with all these wonderful threads that by the end, he pulls together such that they create a beautiful picture. It's amazing to me and terribly elegant. I keep them all. I reread them. I melt.

2) The sincere hugs and kisses of my children. I miss them very much. I have one that pretends he doesn't want to be hugged, but he squeezes back the tightest.

3) Phone calls from my mom or dad. Visits are even better.

4) Unexpected mail or calls from friends.

5) The familiar humor and friendship of the families at our parish and school.

6) Snow falling as I sip hot chocolate.

Now, I'm supposed to tag six more people to do this. I'll have to figure out how to do that, and get my button.