The lower drawer of my nightstand is rarely opened.  It contains two baby books, one for each of my boys, where I recorded major steps of their first few years of life.  The books are filled with photos and memories and are very precious to me.  When the boys were young, I often looked at these books on their birthdays.  I enjoyed reliving the memories of their babyhood.  Sometimes I'd ask them to look at them with me but to my disappointment, neither of them ever took the bait!  Boys!  In fact, Bret once said that maybe if he were a girl he would want to, but no, he wasn't interested, saying, "it must be a girl thing!"

In the same drawer, there is also a round, covered basket which holds my children's missal from my first holy communion and other related keepsakes.  A few weeks ago, on Christmas morning, I woke feeling a great deal of sadness.  It came out of nowhere yet I knew the source, as those who know me would understand.  Several months ago, I'd put some sunglasses that belonged to Bret in my nightstand and that morning, for some reason, I decided to move them to the lower drawer.  I saw the basket, took it out, and layed the contents out on my bed.  I reminisced  about being a child and wearing the medals of saints and collecting holy cards from school and church.  As I looked through the children's missal I was reminded of the fear I felt after seeing the page with a drawing of an evil green colored satan, daring Jesus to jump off a cliff.  To this day, I didn't want to look at that repulsive image!  But what stood out the most was a gold pendant my Tia used to wear, which she had passed on to me.  One side shows hands in prayer, and on the other is the Serenity Prayer.  I am no longer a practicing Catholic but I felt a sense of comfort and peace in thinking about my aunt and the words in the prayer about accepting what cannot be changed.  I decided to wear the pendant that day.  I no longer felt the deep sadness that I felt when I woke, and went on to spend a lovely Christmas day with John and Eric.  My Tia passed many years ago but she lives on in my heart and the pendant she once wore continues to bring me comfort.