Karen Loftis Rankowitz

 My Dearest St. Nicholas, It’s Christmas Eve and I know I’m writing to you a little late but, my words are hard to find this year. My thoughts are scattered and scrambled. Much like how this year has been, I find it difficult to weave my words into a beautiful tapestry or paint a pretty landscape that wraps us in the comforts we once shared; blessed with family and food, laughter and loving embraces.  Santa, if you would remind me, perhaps nudge me gently, to look a little harder and to dig a bit deeper to uncover the joy. I know it’s there but, my eyes sometimes tear up and lose focus and my arms are tired. They’re tired from trying to carry the weight this year has dumped on the world. The uncertainty so many are facing hurts my heart and I wonder...are there enough prayers being said? Is it time to shout them loudly or, continue to kneel and whisper with my head boughed and my heart believing in the power of their words?  As I sit, once again in the glow of soft light ...

My Dearest St. Nicholas, Another year has come and as I sit near my Christmas tree to pen my letter, I find there isn't much  you haven't guided me through already. There is still much for me to learn so, I will be ever grateful if you'd continued to hold my hand while I stumble along. My tree, for many years now, stands proudly in the same cozy place. Each year new ornaments are added and they represent the special events and milestones that have happened during the year. My hands, that were once young, look much older as I watch them place family memories on the branches. But, my heart is content to know that old hands simply mean I have had many years with my family to collect those treasures. Some memories glow in the warmth of the lights. Others bend the branches with their weight but, the boughs are flexible, even strong, under the heavy burden. I suppose, Santa, this is your way of letting me know how important flexibility is when the weight and worries want...

My Dearest St. Nicholas, I am here again, my living room glows in the soft light of my Christmas tree; the warmth wrapped around me like a favorite blanket and I am blessed to have the comforts of my home and my family. I can smell the pine and, memories of my childhood sneak up and surprise me. My mind drifts back to where I grew up; my home town by the shore, and I hear the coins jingle. My father has one hand in his pocket where he keeps his spare coins and the other holds my own tiny, mittened hand as we walk the path in search of the tree which will sparkle just for Santa. I try to copy him and walk with strides longer than my legs; my feet, that could never fill his shoes, point out just a bit.  It's cold and our exhaled breaths of frozen vapor linger for a moment like an angel briefly visiting before taking flight to its heavenly home. It's dark but, the dim bulbs strung low over the path keeps the shadows at bay and my hand held tightly in my father's own reassur...

My Dearest St. Nicholas, Each year, I thoughtfully pen my letters to ask for my Christmas wishes. I also enjoy letting you know I am at peace and I do feel the joy this time of year brings. There are moments, though, when I miss those I loved and want heaven just a little closer to home. But, I will trust as to why Angels were given wings. Santa, this year I will ask for understanding. I have realized many often suffer, sometimes in silence, with profound heartache during this season. Their sorrows are etched into hearts that have broken. Their tears, held back, are locked away behind eyes that smile but without the joy that can make them sparkle. Would you mind, Santa, asking others to understand and be patient and loving? It may be the kindest gift given to someone who's sad. Their reason for sadness is uniquely their own. Perhaps loved ones will not be touched, their hands not held in grace at Christmas dinner. Little ones without a lap, in which to nestle, on Grandpa...

Happy Mother's Day, Mom. There is no one I consider more worthy of holding that most honored name. When I hear the word 'mom', to me, it means strength, integrity, understanding, and love. It means trust and stability. You, Mom, have been the beacon of light on my darkest days, the safe place to land after the countless falls I've made, the hand that reached out and took my own when my heart and head battled for my life's direction. You have managed, and perhaps on many days simply coped, with the heartache no mother should ever have to endure. Yet, your spirit for life and family remains so strong. It's remarkable, really, and in so many ways you're the greatest thing I have to look up to. Thank you, Mom, for all that you are and I love and trust you like no other.

My Dearest St. Nicholas, In the corner of my living room, standing tall, my Christmas tree, with twinkling lights like fallen stars from heaven, reminds me that angels, shining brightly, are here, still with me despite having made their journey home to God. The ornaments, each one with a story to tell, are touched by me and joyful memories are somehow whispered through my hands and into my heart. Soon, the presents will be nestled below the piney boughs and I cry just a little remembering there will be fewer gifts this year - angels can't unwrap presents. Yet, I still feel the peace this time of year brings. I also feel the tears and wish I had a tissue. I don't want much this year, Santa. To ask for peace, love, and joy, I must first bestow it upon others to know its true value and what it means to me. What I will ask of you is help in overcoming, if they cannot be removed, my fears. Reassure me that in giving love and joy, I will receive, or perhaps achieve, peaceful...

Mother's Day has passed but this isn't just about celebrating my mom only on that day. It's about the respect and honor I have for her everyday. I love my mom and I'm going to share with you who she is and what she means to me all the days of the year. I'm getting older which translates to, in a scary way, that she is too. It's not often enough I let her know she was, and is, the most solid foundation upon which my life was built. She gave to me all the things she knew I needed to live my life with proper values, good morals, and integrity. She also allowed me freedom to make my own choices and either reap the rewards or suffer the consequences. And she loved me through both the joyful or sorrowful results. I've never doubted that. She is the only person I have ever fully trusted; she made me feel safe to do so. I wanted to be a veterinarian, or maybe it was a nurse or a teacher, when I grew up. Well, I am grown up now and I've realized all I ...