Karen Loftis Rankowitz

My Dearest St. Nicholas,               As I get older, Santa, I have figured out that I want less of what costs the most.  I want less worry as that would dwindle away my well being. I want less stress so I don’t have to pay with my health. I want less anger so payment isn’t the cost of my loved ones’ peace. I want fewer arguments so feelings are spared the price of hurting. Santa, you don’t have to give me what is not possible. What I ask for instead are the tools to build a safe place somewhere in my mind and in my heart. Here is where I want you to give me freedom to choose between what is right and good and that, which is not. Give me hope and provide for me the strength to hold on to what is precious and a bit of courage to release what I know will tear me down. I like sunshine and warmth; not stormy weather. But when the clouds roll in on chilled, damp air, showing me where to find shelter would be kind, but letting me learn ...

Helping a child with the loss of a pet is tough. We lost our beta fish yesterday. He was with us for almost a year and a half. He was purple; Noah’s favorite color. His name was Betals. My husband scooped him out of the bowl with my kitchen tongs. Placed him on a paper towel and asked Noah, who is 12, if he wanted to say a few words. Noah let a few tears trickle down his cheeks, looked at the fish, and at that moment, chose his words carefully. “I don’t know.” He replied. Our family clustered into the bathroom to bid our beta buddy goodbye. My mate, ever sentimental after I convinced him we shouldn’t bury him in the garden, played ‘Taps’ through his pursed lips. I hid my laughter behind the bathroom door, but wiped the tear from my eye as I watched Noah fight back his own. Christian, my teenager, stood looking at all of us, his expression of absolute embarrassment – perhaps thinking that he couldn’t possibly be related to any of us. Noah, startled out of his mournful trance by t...

Nurturing my inner woman does not involve makeup, manicures, cashmere, or jewels. I am quite comfortable in my own skin and do not require the pretense of outer good looks or prettiness to foster the beauty on my inside. Dress up the tree but remember to take care of you during the holidays. And I don’t necessarily mean that you shouldn’t dress yourself up if it makes you feel good. What I mean is that while the tree looks good with the lights and ‘jewels’ of Christmas past the stresses of the season can swoop in and, like a vulture, steal the fire that burns inside your heart. Here’s what makes my inner woman shine… Affection Conversation Lighting a candle The smell of the ocean Honesty Loyalty Respect Forks to eat pizza Laughter Warm sunshine on my face Driving with the top down even though I don’t have a hair brush Crying happy tears and sad ones too And being seen as a woman and not just a mother My heart can sparkle like glitter as long as the light is shining ...

Dear Santa, Yes, Santa, I do believe. I’m only going to ask you for a few things this year for Christmas. I’ll start with the easier requests. I’d like a self-loading dishwasher. And would you be able to make the dust on the shelves look ‘festive’ – like snow or frost – instead of neglected? I’d like my father to call me by my name and not those of my siblings or the dog I had when I was a teenager so long ago. I’d like just a little bit more time in each day. You can give that to me through my children. Please have them turn their clothing right-side-out, before it’s washed. Specifically, their socks. Enough Scotch Tape to wrap ALL the gifts. Oh, and some Duct Tape so I can hold myself together this season. I don’t want leggings or tights. But could you give me legs that might look good in them. In years past, I didn’t always get the things I wanted, but that’s probably because I didn’t ask for them. I wanted things, but I stopped working hard to get them and keep them. ...