Amma

I woke at 4 am this morning and sat up, looking around. The Husband was sleeping with Sophie and everything was quiet and dark. I didn't feel anxious, either -- sometimes I'll wake like that and seconds afterward will hear Sophie having a seizure, as if I'm some sort of seizure-alert dog. The bed wasn't shaking from an earthquake and, like I said, all was quiet and I felt no anxiety. I lay back down and as I closed my eyes, I realized with a startling clarity that today, June the 14th, is the fifteenth anniversary of the day Sophie was diagnosed with infantile spasms. I don't formally recognize this day and for many years have only given it cursory atttention -- in the beginning, the first ten years or so, I'd feel a dread every time the day came around, but I don't remember the last time I really thought much about it.

Why, then, had I woken and sat bolt upright?

Well, today was the day that I was taking Sophie, Henry and Oliver to meet Amma, the living saint. In the strange and wonderful world of bloggers, I began corresponding with Teresa of All of Us, and she had sent me some of Amma's blessed ashes and a postcard of her many months ago. They have sat in Sophie's room ever since, the Indian's beatific face smiling out from the bookshelf. I have called upon her in moments of despair, the same calling out that I'll do for God, for Jesus, for the Buddha, for Guru Ram Das. Teresa contacted me a while back and let me know that she would be visiting Los Angeles and would love to introduce me to Amma.

So, today, the fifteenth anniversary of Sophie's brutal diagnosis is also the day that we were all embraced and blessed by Amma.

I have no other words except Hope.