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My Santa Claus came in the morning. My neighbor, Manik, an Indian woman, came over in her red jacket with a bag of Christmas cookies.

I visited her a few days ago with a few stems of flowers as an offering for her gods, along with a can of homemade Christmas cookies, but nobody was at home then.

She started telling me that she was fighting with her gods.
“ Why, Manik?”
“Because you still cannot eat well.”
The last time I saw her, I told her I was still having difficult time eating.
“Oh, I am doing much better, particularly after the dilation procedure. This takes time. You do not need to fight with your gods. They are looking after me.”

While I do not understand her heavily accented English too well, she does not understand English too well. Even though we do know that we care about each other alot, communication is not smooth.

Her straightforward expression that she is fighting with her gods, because they were not working hard enough for me, touches me deeply.

Today she asked me to show her a family photo, and she asked what my sons are doing. I explained to her that my oldest is now looking for a job and having tough time.
“When is your son’s birthday?”
“January 26th.”
“Oh, it is a good day: Indian Republic Day. He will surely land a job before his birthday. I will pray for him.”

Mark had to explain how people find jobs in the US, because her words sounded so off the mark. But, her words are reassuring and give optimism and hope in a strange way.

In the evening we went to our friend’s house for Christmas dinner…there it was, a joyous Christmas complete with a Christmas tree, lots of presents, excited children, elaborate dinner and desserts. I suddenly felt sorry for my son, who was having Christmas dinner at his girlfriend’s house at the moment. I did not do anything Christmassy this year, except for the dinner two nights ago.

It must have been a very hard year for him, and for my younger son who is in Germany right now.