Abby and I are being Chrismated on Saturday. This is not something I think would have happened without her. In April, when my ex girlfriend came to visit for the eclipse, and mostly to tell off a version of me that no longer existed, she called me emotionally inconsistent. I don’t think that’s true anymore, but it very well may have been back then, you know, over a decade ago. Recently Abby has been kindly saying how consistent I am, emotionally. She has said this with no knowledge of the former critique. When I brought it up with her, not fifteen minutes before writing this post, she suggested that it said a great deal about our relationship, that I could be the person I actually am, consistently. I think that’s part of it.

I don’t think I could have had the confidence or the clarity of mind to think my way into the church without Abby. I love her. 

In preparation for this you are meant to bring an icon of your chosen saint. Abby chose Saint Abigail because it’s her name, and Saint Abigail is nice, she keeps bees. You’d have to ask Abby to tell you more. I chose Saint Joseph because he’s a dad, perhaps the greatest dad, except for that one with a capital G. His icon, many of them, at least, pictures him with Jesus on his shoulders, as I so often do with Robinia. His committment to fatherhood, in a complex way, is something that resonates with me. But I can get to that later...

We don’t have money for proper icons, mechanically printed or hand painted, so I decided to make our own. I used my engraver to burn the icons into bits of cherry wood. I beveled the edges and painted those angles a dark red. I’m going to add some white to the halos and hopefully add a bit of fools goldleaf tomorrow, if I can. We’ll see. Mine turned out OK, but Abby’s is actually really lovely. And hey, I made them, and I made them well fasting (mostly, Abby forgot I was, and made breakfast. It’d be rude to turn down.)