I am alive

I know this because I awoke in so much pain today. But I still thank God for waking me up. It was a gorgeous morning, bright and chilly. It was the kind of cold that if you stay in the shadows can bring you down but if you stand with God in the brightness of his love it can warm you even when the world is so cold. The pain causes me to wince and maybe shed a tear or two, but I recall that God collects my tears and that I don't cry in vain. I recall a song I heard this morning detailing how even when we are broken we are still in His hands. I lean on that promise and not on this pain. I depend on His love and I draw from His well for relief.

Death really makes you think

With the recent death of my grandfather, I realized many things; one being how little I knew of him. I knew the facts like date of birth, name, height, health disorders... but I never knew his favorite food, music, thoughts... absolutely nothing. He was a man of few words but his eyes hinted at deep thoughts. I should have asked him what he thought when he would stare while sitting in his porch swing, but I didn't. His gait was unmistakable with the jingle of keys he always had at his waist. I never knew what he looked like without a hat until he was in the coffin. I never knew what he thought of me aside from his short remark of "how sweet" I was. I never knew if he knew of the trouble I had caused or that I stole mangos from his backyard. He never gave away if he know about my brother sneaking behind the house to smoke. He was so passive, I never saw him mad or upset. He never raised his voice, not ever, but then again that might have been because my grandmother spoke for the both of them. I am now left with many unanswered questions and I grieve that loss. I rejoice that he is reunited with my grandmother, I am not sure if he is happy about that or not, but all the same he is freed from his sickly body and is eternally at peace (I hope). Grandpa, I am sorry for not spending as much time as I should have with you. Please know that I loved you in my own reserved way and forgive me if I don't please you. I pray that you rest in peace. Don't let Grandma give you too much hell.

The End of the Road

Why does the end seem so harsh and unforgiving? It seems as if the closer you get to your goal the harder and farther away it seems. Curses fly at you like daggers, ill intentions are around every corner and life itself seems to want to devour me. Why? Is that why so many people fail? Where can I find comfort and rest? How do I keep from giving up? The goal seems less and less attainable and even less attractive. God, please give me the stregnth to endure. Grant me rest when I close my eyes and peace in my waking hours. This I pray in your name. Amen.

Wise words from a child

Right before bed as I tucked her in I kissed my daughter and smiled. "I am glad I am girl", she said. I looked at her and wondered what she meant. Being a woman is hard work. As mothers we support and provide for our families with out words of appreciation and only one day per year for recognition. We spend long hours in labor, we wash, cook, clean, manage books, help with homework, give words of encouragement and do not get financial compensation for our labor. In the workforce we face discrimination, we get paid less than a man for doing the same if not more work, we are harrassed for being the "weaker" sex or for being attractive. Either way we go about it, we fall short of someone's measure. Why would this child be glad to be a girl? I love her for who she is and she is beautiful, inside and out, but what possessed her to utter those words? My face must have expressed the confusion I felt. She continued, "As a girl, I get to have children." I nodded, yes. "I get to accept God's most precious gift". My heart fell, for in a moment I had complained about the woes of motherhood, while not even seeing the blessings that come with that title. I only saw the labor, but not the fruit. "You are right, Sweetie". I kissed her again and saw God smiling behind her eyes. How could I doubt my God. Thank you for her and all our children. Thank you for your daily reminders of your unconditional love. Thank you.

 

Baby Grace

I am once again captivated and at the same time mortified by the Baby Grace case. My heart and soul hurt so terribly for a child I have only known through pictures. All my knowledge and wisdom still does not bring me to any conclusion to comprehend this horrific crime. I know why people steal, I know why people lie, and I have even accepted certain reasons for committing rapes and murders. I can even accept the theories as to why pedophiles are attracted to children. However I cannot come up with any logical justification or mental illness which would explain the death of Riley Ann Sawyers. I pray to God for understanding of this and similar crimes and I hear nothing back. I know I may not be mother of the year, I know I lose my cool sometimes, I have raised my voice and I have also been guilty of striking my child in anger and/or frustration. But this? This is extreme, unacceptable, inhumane, insane, and barbaric. This is truly madness. My mind races to find an excuse, an answer, a trigger, a cause. I can only cry and ask God to bring me peace, to give me the words to explain this to my own child, to calm me during this horrible time. I know I am a sensitive person and this case has become a bit personal to me. I don't know why. I wish I could be detached and not care. And if I care, I wish I could at least feel anger, but I can't. God won't let me. I feel numb. I can't be angry, because I am still searching for an answer that will not come until I am face to face with my Lord. I suppose all I can ask for is patience and peace. Lord, bring me peace. I know she is now among your angels. I just wish she had gone in her sleep and not at the hands of monsters.

Feeling like Jesus

There are very few days I can honestly say that I felt like Jesus. I don't mean in the literal way, such as feeding thousands; although I did feed some very hungry friends of mine the other day. That doesn't count. I mean, in the sense of carrying a burden, a heavy load and having spectators watch and not offer help. I think a few might have even been laughing. I went to IKEA for the semi-annual blue moon sale and bought some much needed furniture. In case you have never shopped there... everything is packaged in thin, heavy boxes, and in case you don't know what I drive, no it's not a flat bed, but rather a sedan. So there I was trying to maneuver these 60 pound boxes into my car, and yes it was comical, just not to me. Finally after about 20 minutes with no help, I somehow managed (with the grace of God) to not curse and yet get it in there. Yes, I prayed and grunted and pulled my rotator cuff. When I got home I managed to get it out and into the apartment. Yes! Success... or so I thought. Now I got to feeling like Jesus all over again. Granted I didn't have to cut the tree down and cut it into planks, but I still had to assemble the furniture. So I was, in my little world, for 1 hour, a carpenter. And thoughts of Jesus crossed my mind. I wondered how many times he must have ran his hand across wood, and if he ever wanted to curse when he got a splinter in his hand. I wondered if he had an image of what his creations would look like when they were finished. I wondered if that was how he thought of us: his creations, his little projects. My mind drifted back to the labor of getting the material home and I wondered if that was how he felt when he carried his cross? Did he feel like cursing too when people laughed, jeered and spat at him? How his heart must have broken to see his beloved creations laughing at him as he walked to Calvary. I wondered if he ever regretted his sacrifice, and about that time I sat up and looked at my new furniture all put together, just like the picture on the box. I had to smile and know that God did not regret what he suffered for me and for all humanity. He smiles everytime he looks at me and you. Becuase we are on our way to looking like the final image he imagined.

Where did 2008 go?

I was a bit startled when 2008 ended. It had a brutal ending, yet I almost didn't realize it. It snuck out the back door so quietly that I didn't even get to do my annual self analysis. Time really got away from me. But if I had the chance to recap it and note the most memorable moments... this would be it:

• My precious girl began playing the violin.
• She out grew 2 violins and 2 shoe sizes in 12 months, can you say growth spurt?
• I discovered just how important my Spanish was and just how pitiful I sounded... needless to say I took a few courses and have polished up.
• I finished my first short story. I was really pleased with this. :)
• My precious was in her first beauty pagent and was first runner up.
• She did excellent in both her Spring and Winter recitals.
• She obtained scholarships for private school and music school.
• I learned to eat for nourishment and not as a bad habit.
• My baby started losing her teeth! I nearly cried about this.
• I attended my 10 year reunion and survived!
• I learned to eat alone at a restaurant.
• I went on a date with myself.
• I managed to "ruin" my daughter's life 5 times and yet was nominated for the "bestest mother of the world" award.
• I was promoted yet again at my job and despite the economy being what it was, I still got a raise. Yes, God is on my side.

God has always been there and I know he always will. 2009 will be a great year, I have no doubt about that. There are several milestones I will reach that will mark this year as unique and full of accomplishments for my self and my family. I thank God for what he did in 2008 and I look forward to 2009!

Measuring Up

In less than 48 hours I will be turning a year older. The days till I reach 30 years get shorter and I wonder whether I am as far along in life as I should be. I try to define the standard which I am to measure up to? Who sets it? Did I set it all those years ago as I scribbled some fantastical idea of what my life would be in my high school senior yearbook? How far I have come since then and yet just 5 years ago I was halfway to the fantasy... but it was not what I really wanted, it was what someone else wanted for me. How long I lived for someone else; my parents, friends, family, husband... until finally I could not contain someone else's desires as my own. I can recall thinking that if I pleased just one more person other than myself, I would just die. *Sigh* Boy am I glad I figured that part out. It is rather silly, really; to live for someone else. Yet I know I am not alone. I know there are millions of other people who cannot say 'no' to the world around them. I know I am not the only person who has repressed their desires to appease those around them. But I am so relieved I have overcome that challenge, that threat to my happiness. I know that if I was not happy there was no way in hell I could make my daughter happy, much less create a postive, caring enviornment for her. I can honestly say that doing all I did (yes even the divorce) was the best thing I could have done for all parties involved. I can clear my conscience, knowing that what I did prevented me from having a nervous breakdown or worse.

New Year, Same Challenges

So the new year has arrived and with it came the resolutions that we never keep. But as I try to keep 2008 as the year I really change my life, the harder I find it to stay positive. Sure, finances are in order, work is good and school has just begun therefore nothing is due yet. I know the real test will come in March when deadlines are upon me. Will I still be willing to wake up at 5 am to exercise? In May when school is out and I am planning my girl’s birthday bash, will I still find it in by budget to be diligent with my tithing? In all the bustle of the summer with Sid’s wedding, will I still find the time for me and my vacation? Then before you know it, it’s a new academic year, there will be uniforms to buy, supplies to buy, books to order… will I even remember to take myself out for my birthday? Then come the blasted holidays and all the “joy” they bring… will I remember to pray about the real joy? How am I to keep my perspective in order with all the distractions of life? Out of all the spiritual issues I face, this one is the most challenging of all. I have faith, I love God, I believe in the good in all people and I pray for others. What I struggle with is praying for myself. I seem to think that I have it made and therefore not worthy of more blessing. I hate to ask God for the petty things I want when I see the world needs more of his help than me. I know God knows no bounds, but I find it hard to accept that he would look to me to bless when I feel so blessed already. Is there really more that I could or should have? Am I really entitled to more than this? Why do I not feel good enough for more?

Farewell to 2007

As 2007 comes to a close, I breathe a sigh of relief and I thank God for all that he has done for me and through me. I have done many things in this one year, some of which were good and some bad, some filled me joy and others with sorrow. But they were all necessary for me to grow as the person God has intended.

1. I loved again
2. I had my heart broken
3. I moved out on my own
4. I made new friends
5. I quit smoking
6. I was healed of migraines
7. I began attending church more regularly
8. I forgave those who offended me
9. I watched my daughter achieve new milestones
10. I got a dog
11. I sang more
12. I gained weight
13. I cooked more that I ever have in my whole life
14. I got a promotion at work
15. I became part of the school board
16. I extended opportunities to my daughter that I never had.
17. I got new glasses
18. I have a clean bill of health
19. I have a better smile
20. I resisted temptation
    

I am sure this list is vague and could be extended, but then what would I be left to write next year? I am happy at this moment. Even if I am lonely, I am in the best emotional state of my life thus far. 2007 has left its mark like many others before. The difference now is that I choose what I leave behind and what I take with me. I will leave behind the heartache, and carry with me the joys which make me smile; after all I do have such a beautiful smile.

Blissful Bills

Yup, you know what I am talking about. Those wonderful pieces of paper that fill your mailbox. Those phone calls at 7 pm just as you sit down for dinner. The only people that will actually miss you if you wind up in the hospital or better yet, die. BILLS! We need the lights on, we need running water, cable, internet (God forbid that get cut off), transportation (in my case, a lovely silver Malibu), the essential... cell phone oh and let's not forget the roof over this lovely raven head. Yeah, bills. It's a funny thing really, cause the other day as I finished making all my online payments, my checking account when from happily full to dreadfully empty... all in about 15 minutes. Yet, as I stared the miserable amount of money in my account, I had to smile. Because I paid my bills and my account was not in the negative. I felt for once so accomplished. I was very proud of myself, even if no one else was. I had spent my hard earned money on something other than myself. Granted those commodities were for me and my beloved but I didn't blow my paycheck, I spent it! And that felt very good. Yay for me!

A year has passed

This day a year ago, my paternal grandmother took her last breath and joined our Creator. With my father at her side, she passed on in the comfort of her home. 3 days later she was buried. All of her grandchildren and many of her great-grand children were present, all but me. I did not make the 350 mile drive to pay my respects. When they called me and told me that she had passed I did not cry. I can't explain my stoic behavior. But she was an odd woman. Not very maternal, not very kind, and certainly not loving towards me. I realize that her behavior towards me does not excuse my absence at her "going away" party.

However, this weekend I visited my grandmother's house. I sat in her rocking chair and thought of her. I sat in the porch where she so often sat in the early mornings or late afternoons as old folks do. I even caught myself remembering the feel of her hands. The wrinkled skin and claw like nails. I remember her watery cataract eyes. I recalled how she would always compliment my features, by comparing me to my mother; which was not a compliment coming from her, but rather an insult. I recalled that she had promised me a ring; which was never found. I also remember how she read my palm when I was 11 years old. I recalled many things about her. And as I wandered from room to room, I almost expected to hear her shuffling steps, her under the breath murmurings, and her constant clearing of throat. But they never came, her ghost paid me no visit and I returned home. I was reassured that she was not angry at me for not attending her funeral and relieved that she had indeed passed on and was not lingering in the house.

I am sorry Grandma. May you rest in peace.

Dedicated to Amelia Pena Lucio

Where is my mini me? She completes me!

Being a busy person such as me, quiet time is often a luxury. It does not come easy. But today, or rather these last few days have been full of quiet solitude. But unlike the quiet time that I often wish to share with my beloved, this unsettling silence has tortured me. For I am alone, without that blessed soul which completes me. There is no small face to look upon. There is no small whispering under the covers. There are no questions, no toys out of place, no ruffled covers on her bed. Everything is in its’ place and I don’t like it. I think I would rather have the hum of the TV, the crayons on the floor, dominos on the table, toys in the bathroom sink. I would rather have all that and have my angel with me. I know I can’t live without her, but 2 days is too much. I hate being without my baby. I feel so incomplete. Busy Moms always pray for quiet time, but when we have it we feel out of place, out of element. Now I know why. :(

The Rain

It begins like most storms, the rumbling in the distance, and lightning flashing against the night sky. Then the thunder grows closer, the wind picks up and the trees seemed to dance to the rhythm of the storm. Before the clouds release their fury, the scent of rain is on the breeze. It is clean and cool. It refreshes even before the first drop hits the ground. I stand there waiting for it to come. I feel the ground tremble and suddenly the clouds give in and fulfill its threat. It rains hard tonight. Not the small sprinkle as before but hard and angry. The ground becomes saturated very fast and puddles soon appear. It comes down in sheets, passionate sheets. The music of the rain fills the night. The wind plays with the rain, it shakes the rain; pushing it beyond the safe shelters. In this storm everything gets wet. No umbrella offers cover from this rain. This is a rain for the bones. This is a rain for a hot cup of tea and really good read. This is my kind of rain.

Drama Queen

My sweet, dear child has been going through some really dramatic tantrums these last couple of weeks. It does not worry me, but it can be very annoying at times and yet at others utterly hilarious. Her latest rant came out of no where. We were getting ready for bed, when she decides (like most nights) that she wants to climb into my bed to sleep. I am really trying to nip this habit in the butt. So I politely mention to her that her dolls and stuffed animals are lonely on her bed and suggest that she should join them. She curtly replies, "they aren't real Mommy!" So I am silenced by this very smart reply -- really I am dumbstruck, but anyway. So then I resign to the fact that I will be awoken in 2 hours by little hot feet kicking me in the back. I start my shut down routine (to quiet the mind) and then just as I was about to drift off to that misty unknown... the covers are thrown off! "Hmph! Well if you don't want me here, I am leaving!!!" She jumped off the bed and returned to her own bed. At least 2-3 minutes had passed since I had even made the slight suggestion and then this! What was she doing for those moments? Thinking up that reply? I could hardly stiffle my laugh. And try as I may to apologize and offer to tuck her in, she just tucked her own self in and ignored me. So I said "I'm sorry" one last time and went to bed. As I began to drift off to sleep again, I asked God, "Now what was that all about?"

The Acorn

The joys of Parenting. I tell you, the journey is never ending. I know that someday (maybe even later as I post this) I will laugh at the "good ideas" my daughter has come up with. Today was one of those days at the office when you can't wait to get home to your child(ren). I stared at her picture wishing it would be 5:00. And then it was and I was off to the race to get to her.

When I picked her up at the sitter, I did not notice anything odd about her. I loaded her backpack, bid the sitter farewell and went on my merry way. The first thing I did once getting in the car was buckle up, lower the volume on the radio and then flip my rear view mirror down to look at her gorgeous face. I then did the most routine thing, "How was your day Punkin?"

She replied, "Someone put an acorn in my nose".

My reaction was of course "WHAT? WHO?"

And of course she replied, "Umm, I dunno" .

My mind started racing a thousand miles a minute, then I paused and thought, maybe she is joking. I am not going to race back to the medical center and pay $100 copay to find out that I have a comedian on my hands. So I calmed myself and told her that it was not nice to tell lies. She then starts whining that she wants to get it out NOW!!! I then realized that it was not a joke at all. As she paniced, her breathing began to make a whistling noise. I rushed home, calmed her and myself down as much as I could and then I thought about taking a look at the damage.

I laid her down in her bed, turned the light up all the way and tilted her head back. There was definitely something in there. I felt around her nose to gauge how far in it was and it was in there pretty far. I massaged it until i got it to the entrance of the nostril. Finally I pried it out with my nails and it was out. I sighed in relief and then began a long winded lecture about foreign objects. I ended my lecture with the usual, "You could have died!"

She vowed to never do it again and pranced out of the room. I wondered if she really meant that or if she rolled her eyes at me as she left. I was also left wondering what the next parenting adventure might be.

Bitter Rain

After a day of hard work, I head off to school. It is raining and slighlty chilly. I get a little wet running to the building which houses my class and not to mention I am late. As I enter the class the professor gives me a sort of bemused look as if saying, "oh she is late again". Yet she cannot complain because I am the most outspoken person in class and I have a great grade. What can I say, I do know how to keep my head above water.
But today, it was raining and my head got wet anyway, I was feeling rather bad. As class ended I once again ran, to my car this time. And as I got inside I shook my head to shake the water drops off my messy head. I locked the doors (after all one cannot be too safe now a days). And I turned the car on. I turned the wipers on and then the radio. As I pulled away from the campus it began to rain harder. And on the radio was a sappy holiday song, as it ended, the on air personality comes on and introduces a guest who has called in with a lovely thanksgiving story. It turned out to be a tale of romance and of how her love proposed to her at the dinner table with her family looking on. It was sickening and I quickly changed the channel only to be frustrated that there was nothing better on, so I shut it off. And as I idly drove on I began to wonder why it bothered me so much that this stranger was proposed to. Why should I care?
And then it hit me, it bothered me becuase I know that no one will ever be so considerate as to propose in such a manner, because I know I will not get a second chance at love, because I know that no one will ever love me for me, and that is why I sat there embittered in the rain in my car, on my mundane drive home. How pathetic is that?

So...

So my life is a never ending battle with set backs. Why this, why that? My life never can be at peace with even one aspect of life. There is constant drama, is that how everyone's life is? Am I dreaming of an impossibility? I don't want riches, fame or time to stand still. All I ask is for a little corner of the world for me, where I can be the boss and everything to just be still, quiet, peaceful. I just want a space for me and my obsessive thoughts, is that too much to ask? Aparently so. *sigh* Such is life. I find myself repeating that phrase often, "such is life". Maybe I should get that tattooed somewhere to remind myself that I am so insignificant and what I say or do affects no one but me. *sigh* How pitiful is this?

Blessing

When I see so much evil in the world I begin to question God's goodness. I begin to question how he can let such things happen to innocent people.
And then... I see your face, your dazzling smile, your radiant eyes, I hear your pure laughter... and I realize that as long as I have that small blessing, which is you, I know not to question God.
For he has made my life complete by placing you in my arms, by giving me your smiles, by giving me your love.
And then I am at peace one more.

Solitude

Solitude is my friend. It is like an emptiness that enfolds me. The kind of void like an empty room. I love to hear my footsteps echo. I especially love to sing in an empty room and hear my voice bounce off the walls and high ceiling, as if it were singing to itself. Solitude gives me the silence that I need to think, to create, to write. Solitude gives me the space to explore my mind and my dreams. To figure out what to do next. What to plan and how to live. Solitude is a friend of mine that rarely comes to visit, but is always very welcomed.