March Madness got my attention last year when A&M beat Notre Dame...I was hooked. But nothing like watching Brittany Griner, (More on Brittany Griner) and this years Baylor Bear's Women's Basketball team. To use an over used phrase...they were awesome! And 40-0 - SPECTACULAR!!!! This is like Secretariat's record. You know the racehorse that won the Triple Crown? No one has ever been able to beat his record, so it is with Baylor. Never again will another team take it to 40-0, well, it's gonna be a long, long time. There have been plenty of 39-0 records but none reached the record of 40 wins and no losses.
I was so nervous watching the game. But having watched Odyssey Sims lead her team in other games calmed me. I knew this little sophomore, who showed the maturity, composure, and knowledge of her fellow players early on would not fail her team. After all she had brought their team to the 39-0 record. She took it to the end fouling out at the very last...but long enough to put her team almost 20+ points ahead. And then there was Brittany Griner, taking her cues, delivering, executing, and dominating!!!
Notre Dame was a power house but not compared to Baylor. Baylor had poise, didn't lose their kool, kept it together all the way down the line.
And there was one more BIG factor, their coach Kim Mulkey. Coach Muley was struck with Bell's Palsy a few days before the Final Four. Believe me it can be painful and stress can be one of the culprit. There was no doubt she had plenty of stress. But she had started preparing them down the winning trail from the time Griner was a freshman. The only thing that Bell's Palsy stopped Coach Mulkey from doing was smiling.
Very little is known about Bell's Palsy. It's named after its discoverer, Sir Charles Bell, a Scottish surgeon.
For more info on Dr. Bell and Bell's Palsy...
I felt for her because I have and continue to have occasional ticks that remind me of the time when I had Bell's Palsy.
Back in 1986, when I was diagnosed with Bell's Palsy. I had just given birth to my third baby, Samantha. It was so severe they thought I was having a stroke. It mimics a stroke because you lose all feeling on the affected side. While it begins in the facial area, mine affected me all the way down to my left leg. I was told there were several factors that could have caused my Bell's Palsy.
* Pregnancy sometimes can be a factor (I was)
* Ear infection - (I did have a slight ear infection, unbeknownst to me)
* Going from hot to extreme cold. (The delivery room was freezing!!)
* Stress (Samantha was 15 days late and Ralph's ex-wife was taking him to court for the umpteenth time on the day she was born.)
I have two other old wives tales. You might have heard of them.
* Never sleep under a fan with wet hair
* Especially in this Texas heat, do not go from being overheated into an air-conditioned car/room.
It took me over a year to recover and even then, I still have a 5% residue left. I was on steroids for a year (hence my problem with weight). But somehow (I know God intervened) he directed me to an acupuncturist. I mean really, where would I find an acupuncturist in the middle of East Texas? Well, there just happened to be one moving into the Longview/Tyler area straight from China. I accredit my recovery to that acupuncture/doctor and God. I was unable to finish my treatment before we were transferred to San Antonio so that's why I still have that 5%. But I do have to be careful. I can detect a weather change, cold front, and rain ever since my Bell's Palsy with an uncanny accuracy. But my main struggle is stress. My eye will begin twitching. It's my sign that its time to walk away and chill.
Stop smiling? Nooooo, not me!
March Madness was a great. Time to relax and enjoy...bragging rights for TEXAS!!!! Great Basketball!!
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
Sunday, April 1, 2012
The 45-minute storm...
 |
| That's Norah in the center. A little blurry but had to share. Norah plays the alto saxophone at Audie Murphy Middle School. |
 |
| Me, Norah and Ralph |
It's 8:20, the phone rings...it's my sister-in-law, Cleo Hinojosa.
"Are you prepared?" she asked.
"Prepared for what?" I asked.
"Well, the storm that's headed this way." she added, "If it contains tornadoes, what's the plan?"
"Geez, I never thought about that." I answered. "We'll probably head for the bathroom in the west side of our home."
After exchanging a few more insights, we hung up. I began walking around the house. Our back bedroom had stacks and stacks of papers on the bed and on tables. Ralph and I had been organizing our records for this year's taxes. The first thought that came into my mind was the wind tossing everything everywhere so I quickly repacked everything back into boxes and stored them away in the closet.
Next thing, I asked Ralph if we had masking tape. Off he went and came back with several rolls.
It's now about 9:00 p.m.
"Start taping the windows." I said.
No sooner did we begin and hail started hitting the front side of our house which faces north. At first it was like slow popping popcorn but it wasn't long before it sounded like tommy guns firing.
In the midst of all this, in our hall entrance we have a picture frame with Jesus Christ set in the middle. The Jesus figurine popped away from the frame and I caught it. I looked at Ralph, Ralph looked at me. I held on to sweet Jesus, praying the Lord's prayer the entire time we were moving our furniture and taping.
Marble size hail was blowing in a straight line into the front of the house. We taped the windows and I covered them with sheets and moved furniture in front to keep any debris out...if the windows broke, I thought.
The news report said it would last about 45 minutes. It as the longest 45 minutes of my life. Within 15 minutes there was a foot high layer of hail in our foyer.
The hail pelted the roof, the sides and demolished pretty much everything in its way.
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| This was out our garage drive way...the icy river. Our neighbor across the street (you can see his garage door open) yelled out that there was about a foot of ice on our roof. |
Thirty minutes later, it was over.
The aftermath...
Our yard, front and back, looked like cutter ants had cleaned every tree bare. Our potted plants and bushes looked like someone had taken a machine gun and randomly shot everything in sight.
 |
| Bobo's and Pande's tree - a few hours earlier it was an umbrella of shade in our back yard...all the leaves were gone. |
 |
| I don't know if you can see but we have a lot of cacti...it was systematically "gunned" down...but the Blessed Mary stood tall and untouched. Our lemon tree that was full of new lemons was picked clean...so was our valencia oranges and grapefruit trees. I was unable to load the pictures. |
She told me that she felt so secure that after we hung up she sat down to watch TV. When the pelting started she thought they'd be ok. The shutters covering the windows on the north side of her home gave way and windows broke...ice and water started going in. Her neighborhood was the worst hit. Water started seeping in through the front door. No problem, Cleo said, she began placing mats, towels anything to absorb the incoming water. Thinking it was over and under control, my brother-in-law opened the door when a fire truck went by. The next door neighbors had an explosion and fire. In rushed dirty, murky water. Their entire house was under four inches of water. Their three cars outside...totaled. It was devastating. Arturo's once pristine yard looked like Louisiana swamp land.
We attempted to go to their home since we couldn't communicate with them but were unable to make it. (Police kept turning us away.) Luckily, Gloria, my other sister-in-law and her husband, David, stepped in and helped Cleo and Arturo clean up.
We visited them Saturday night and found them in good humor, blessed to be alive. Their home will probably be gutted or leveled and their automobiles totaled...but as Cleo said...WE"RE ALIVE!!!
I have never been more scared than I was that night...but Jesus Christ in my hand held us together. Cutter ants have taught me, the strong will survive and if it does, it will come back better than ever.
The storm prepared us for what would happen Sunday morning...
I love you, Sandy...
We weathered the storm, and thought the worst was over. But in the still of the long, dark morning, our dear friend and companion of 13 years passed on. Sandra D, our sandy-colored chow-chow, left us. She didn't want to go evidenced by her desire to stay by our side, but her crippled body couldn't take it much longer. It was time, she had served us well protecting our home, our children and loving us unconditionally as only her kind know how. We will miss our furry child, our sweet Sandra D.
This photo taken in our living room and was the photo used for 2008 Christmas card. She was the only family member available at the time and she said she would pose for that year's Christmas picture. We love her very much so we wanted to share her with everyone. Everyone else were in different places, doing busy things.
Sandy's whole life was spent defending our fence and our home. She spent her early days, playing, roaming, barking and guarding our domain; every dog's dream.
She served us willingly, everyday, and gave us unconditional love at any given moment. She suffered from arthritis and hip dysplasia but she bravely took her suffering so she could be with us. She reminded us of how simple life can and should be.
Even though our hearts are broken, we will miss you, baby...we know you're in a better place - running wild with Keasha. Someday, we'll be together again.
 |
| Sandra D June, 1998 - April 1, 2012 |
This photo taken in our living room and was the photo used for 2008 Christmas card. She was the only family member available at the time and she said she would pose for that year's Christmas picture. We love her very much so we wanted to share her with everyone. Everyone else were in different places, doing busy things.
Sandy's whole life was spent defending our fence and our home. She spent her early days, playing, roaming, barking and guarding our domain; every dog's dream.
She served us willingly, everyday, and gave us unconditional love at any given moment. She suffered from arthritis and hip dysplasia but she bravely took her suffering so she could be with us. She reminded us of how simple life can and should be.
Monday, March 19, 2012
Battling with prayer...
Dear Friends and Family...
Several years ago...too many to count, my dear friend and classmate, Dora Elia Garcia Saavedra (Dr. Saavedra of UPTA) moved back to the valley after many years away. Our family had recently returned, too, after being away some 22 years. Dora and I clung to each other that first year. She was trying to finish her dissertation for her Ph.D. and I was trying to adjust to valley living...city living gave me experiences that had changed me. My awareness opened my eyes to differences that didn't have to be. There was the "machismo" attitude, the non-existent conservation and recycling system, family dramas and dramas that I thought belonged back in high school.
Ralph and I had moved around quite a bit during our sabbatical from the valley. We lived in Houston, got transferred to Denver, Colorado, back to Houston, then Longview, Texas and finally San Antonio before we moved back. I enjoyed freedoms that freed my mind and my soul, and now we were returning to the valley. I dreaded returning to the valley. I cried for days, praying that I was strong enough to face the challenges I knew I would be facing. At the time it was my mother and my sister I dreaded returning to not so much for me but for my young daughters. I did not want them to go through what I had experienced growing up. This time around, I informed my mom and sis, if they spewed even an ounce of uninvited, cruel criticism, it would be the last time I would speak to them. Without going into detail regarding this criticism, trust me, there is constructive criticism and this was not that. (I do want to add that my sister is no longer that person.)
So back to Dora...
Dora and I would walk at Bill Schupp Park here in McAllen, sometimes daily, sometimes just a few times a week. We discussed her dissertation, our families, prayer and meditation. I had found that praying the rosary was especially helpful in quieting the mind. At the time, Dora did not know how to pray the rosary. So everyday, we would pray, sometimes out loud and sometimes in silence. It wasn't long before Dora perfected her rosary, archiving to memory the different mysteries of our faith. Combined with meditation, I found that in order to live a more grounded, spiritual life I had to silence my mind. How can I hear or know God if my mind is constantly chattering about mundane things that have nothing to do with him or living a good life. It was a wonderful time.
It would be great if I could say that I have prayed the rosary everyday since then but that would be a big, fat lie. On this side of my return to the valley, meditation also fell by the wayside. It is not until now that I've finally have gotten to that place...and if you've been there, you know what I'm talking about. It happens to joggers when they run, it's the place I call "The Zone." When I jogged, walked, mediated, or prayed the rosary it put me in the Zone.
More years passed, Dora got her doctorate and I joined the work force. It was in the year 2000, I, along with two of my classmates, decided to revive our class reunions. Everyone was so busy, raising children, working, and facing challenges. But a small core of our class remained faithful and we began gathering every year. Made up mostly of locals, we celebrated another lifetime and people that touched us.
It wasn't long before things got messy. That valley mentality (It's what I call it. This is not meant of offend anyone but it exists.) It got the better of us and soon there were problems in Camelot.
During that time Celia Munoz Bazziomani, our larger than life beam of light and classmate, my childhood friend and confidant, found herself battling cancer. It's now 2005, and unbeknownst to us, Celia is battling the biggest war in her life. Following surgery that was suppose to fix everything, there were complications. Celia fell into a coma for 30 days. It was by the grace of God that Celia came back to us...and she brought some valuable information.
Celia shared with me in an e-mail, everything she had seen and heard during those 30 days. She told me that there were angels battling in between heaven and hell for her soul. What tipped the scales were prayers. She could hear the countless rosaries being prayed on her behalf. Rosaries from the nuns and children at Casa Amparo, from another orphanage further down in Mexico, from our friends and family, church, strangers...she heard them all. It was our prayers that brought her back for another short while, so she could finish what she started. God was not done with Celia.
She asked that I read her e-mail letter to our classmates. As promised, I read it at our 2006 class reunion. I posted it on our class website. You could hear a pin drop when I read it. She wanted everyone to know how important it was to pray for each other. In the early morning hours after our reunion, Cynthia Weber Garza and I spent our last slumber party with Celia. We didn't know then but her last trip to the orphanage, whose name I don't know, would be her last.
I didn't understand back then what I understand now...which is the way it is in life. I understand that forgiveness is your way out of your mental prison. Pray for everyone, even your enemies - God is in their lives just like he's in yours. It may be the prayer that saves someone's life. It saved mine.
Since the time Dora and I prayed the rosary...another mystery was added, the Luminous Mysteries.
Want to know more about the rosary: The Rosary
* * *
What I understand today...
I finally got my groove back re: meditation, prayer - it's battling insomnia for me, fixing my health, and I'm feeling the love again.
No one knows what the menagerie of friends and friends will do to your life - good or bad...but when you pray, without judgement, when you forgive, without judgement, it becomes what God wants it to be. I love his ways.
One small prayer, one small acknowledgement, one small gesture of kindness opens up the heavens.
Love and forgiveness, over everything else, is the healer of all ills. Watch how the people that truly love or have loved you come back, stay, or touch your life even if its for a brief moment. Your memory will keep it in your heart for a lifetime.
Dora, Celia and You will always be in my heart...
Several years ago...too many to count, my dear friend and classmate, Dora Elia Garcia Saavedra (Dr. Saavedra of UPTA) moved back to the valley after many years away. Our family had recently returned, too, after being away some 22 years. Dora and I clung to each other that first year. She was trying to finish her dissertation for her Ph.D. and I was trying to adjust to valley living...city living gave me experiences that had changed me. My awareness opened my eyes to differences that didn't have to be. There was the "machismo" attitude, the non-existent conservation and recycling system, family dramas and dramas that I thought belonged back in high school.
Ralph and I had moved around quite a bit during our sabbatical from the valley. We lived in Houston, got transferred to Denver, Colorado, back to Houston, then Longview, Texas and finally San Antonio before we moved back. I enjoyed freedoms that freed my mind and my soul, and now we were returning to the valley. I dreaded returning to the valley. I cried for days, praying that I was strong enough to face the challenges I knew I would be facing. At the time it was my mother and my sister I dreaded returning to not so much for me but for my young daughters. I did not want them to go through what I had experienced growing up. This time around, I informed my mom and sis, if they spewed even an ounce of uninvited, cruel criticism, it would be the last time I would speak to them. Without going into detail regarding this criticism, trust me, there is constructive criticism and this was not that. (I do want to add that my sister is no longer that person.)
So back to Dora...
Dora and I would walk at Bill Schupp Park here in McAllen, sometimes daily, sometimes just a few times a week. We discussed her dissertation, our families, prayer and meditation. I had found that praying the rosary was especially helpful in quieting the mind. At the time, Dora did not know how to pray the rosary. So everyday, we would pray, sometimes out loud and sometimes in silence. It wasn't long before Dora perfected her rosary, archiving to memory the different mysteries of our faith. Combined with meditation, I found that in order to live a more grounded, spiritual life I had to silence my mind. How can I hear or know God if my mind is constantly chattering about mundane things that have nothing to do with him or living a good life. It was a wonderful time.
It would be great if I could say that I have prayed the rosary everyday since then but that would be a big, fat lie. On this side of my return to the valley, meditation also fell by the wayside. It is not until now that I've finally have gotten to that place...and if you've been there, you know what I'm talking about. It happens to joggers when they run, it's the place I call "The Zone." When I jogged, walked, mediated, or prayed the rosary it put me in the Zone.
More years passed, Dora got her doctorate and I joined the work force. It was in the year 2000, I, along with two of my classmates, decided to revive our class reunions. Everyone was so busy, raising children, working, and facing challenges. But a small core of our class remained faithful and we began gathering every year. Made up mostly of locals, we celebrated another lifetime and people that touched us.
It wasn't long before things got messy. That valley mentality (It's what I call it. This is not meant of offend anyone but it exists.) It got the better of us and soon there were problems in Camelot.
During that time Celia Munoz Bazziomani, our larger than life beam of light and classmate, my childhood friend and confidant, found herself battling cancer. It's now 2005, and unbeknownst to us, Celia is battling the biggest war in her life. Following surgery that was suppose to fix everything, there were complications. Celia fell into a coma for 30 days. It was by the grace of God that Celia came back to us...and she brought some valuable information.
Celia shared with me in an e-mail, everything she had seen and heard during those 30 days. She told me that there were angels battling in between heaven and hell for her soul. What tipped the scales were prayers. She could hear the countless rosaries being prayed on her behalf. Rosaries from the nuns and children at Casa Amparo, from another orphanage further down in Mexico, from our friends and family, church, strangers...she heard them all. It was our prayers that brought her back for another short while, so she could finish what she started. God was not done with Celia.
She asked that I read her e-mail letter to our classmates. As promised, I read it at our 2006 class reunion. I posted it on our class website. You could hear a pin drop when I read it. She wanted everyone to know how important it was to pray for each other. In the early morning hours after our reunion, Cynthia Weber Garza and I spent our last slumber party with Celia. We didn't know then but her last trip to the orphanage, whose name I don't know, would be her last.
I didn't understand back then what I understand now...which is the way it is in life. I understand that forgiveness is your way out of your mental prison. Pray for everyone, even your enemies - God is in their lives just like he's in yours. It may be the prayer that saves someone's life. It saved mine.
Since the time Dora and I prayed the rosary...another mystery was added, the Luminous Mysteries.
Want to know more about the rosary: The Rosary
* * *
What I understand today...
I finally got my groove back re: meditation, prayer - it's battling insomnia for me, fixing my health, and I'm feeling the love again.
No one knows what the menagerie of friends and friends will do to your life - good or bad...but when you pray, without judgement, when you forgive, without judgement, it becomes what God wants it to be. I love his ways.
One small prayer, one small acknowledgement, one small gesture of kindness opens up the heavens.
Love and forgiveness, over everything else, is the healer of all ills. Watch how the people that truly love or have loved you come back, stay, or touch your life even if its for a brief moment. Your memory will keep it in your heart for a lifetime.
Dora, Celia and You will always be in my heart...
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Being comforted
As most of my friends know, my mom passed away last summer. I was reminded of the emotional rollercoaster ride by another one of my Facebook friends when she lost her dad just last week. Witnessing Lucee's pain wasn't easy. It felt as if I was losing my parents all over again.
I was comforted by an unexpected occurence. I knew when it happened that it was my mom reaching out, letting me know, somehow, the next "road less traveled." It came in the form of a phone call and an invitation. My husband, Ralph, a retired AT&T employee, had been a member of the Pioneers, AT&T's non-profit volunteer organization. Ralph was an active member until his return to the workforce. The Pioneers were needing active members to carry on their community service.
About the same time this happened, Comfort House, a non-profit organization, was having a fundraiser. Their flyer popped up on my news feed on Facebook.
Comfort House is a Special Care Facility for patients in their terminal stages of illness, whether it be cancer, Aids, etc. who have prognosis of 4 months or less of life to live. It's their desire to serve those who are in most dire need of their care. It's a 510(c)3 agency and donations are tax deductible.
It's a humble home with 10 bed homelike residences providing 24/7 care to anyone regardless of age, race, ethnicity, religion, social status or ability to pay. They work together with a hospice to provide a comfortable, clean place where your loved one can live with love and dignity. Their ministry of love and compassion goes beyond anything I could have imagined. They stand by you in whatever is needed, providing physical comfort, administering medications as directed by the hospice nurse, but what I felt most was the love, and selflessness of each member of their staff. Their love and prayers sustained our family during my mom's short stay.
They don't charge familes for their services. Families of residents are asked to make donations if they're able but it's not required nor expected. Other support comes from the community, gifts, fundraising activities and foundation grants. They do not seek Medicare or Medicaid reimbursement by choice. Community volunteers make up the difference that enables them to operate with a smaller staff. (Comfort House Services Inc. for more information.)
It is their mission to provide a peaceful, homelike environment where a person may die in peace, with dignity, surrounded by loved ones. It is their belief that no one should die in pain nor should they die alone.
They have served the community for 22 years.
So when the Pioneers asked us to continue their community services in the Valley, I jumped at the opportunity. But there is more to the story.
It was where I first heard of Victor Alvarez, a beautiful 23 year-old, who lived at Comfort House as a young boy because his family had given him up due to his illness, spinal muscular atrophy. He was not suppose to live long but he did, long enough to catch the eye of one volunteer, Elva Yolanda Morado, his mother who adopted him. He was a poet, artist, writer (he had column in "The Monitor") and an inspirational speaker. It was Victor who inspired me to return to college and finish my degree. I watched Victor as he attended Rayburn Elementary, then Morris, followed by McAllen High School or McHi as most of us know it. Victor fought to live...but was interrupted. He was called home on August 17, 2010.
Some of us are not crippled in body but in mind. Seeing Victor triumph gave me the courage to go back and finish my degree...in journalism and in life.
You can read more about Victor at Victor Manuel Alvarez - The Monitor
And there is still more...
One of the Pioneer representatives , Belinda Castillo Estrada, was someone from my past. Forty years ago, I was a bridesmaid at her wedding to Mario Estrada in Corpus Christi. Belinda and I hadn't seen each other since her wedding. So it was a homecoming besides a golden opportunity to serve. And just to extend the story further, her next door neighbor at the time was Thomas Weber. He was my escort at her wedding and if the name sounds familiar, it's because he is now married to one of my closest and dearest friend and classmate, Cynthia Garza Weber. As usual there is also another story but we'll let that one be. Everything happens for a reason. And while I may not be able to pronounce that reason at this moment, my life has come full circle, again.
Life is amazing isn't it?...or life can be amazing when you follow the dots...
Comfort House is in much need of donations. They provide meals for the staff and all volunteers. Check out their Wish list. Maybe you have some extra supplies you can spare. They'll appreciate it.
Thank you to the Pioneers, Debbie Martin and Belinda - Comfort House Administrator, Mary Botello and Margaret Gutierrez, administrative assistant - for all you do.
God Bless...
I was comforted by an unexpected occurence. I knew when it happened that it was my mom reaching out, letting me know, somehow, the next "road less traveled." It came in the form of a phone call and an invitation. My husband, Ralph, a retired AT&T employee, had been a member of the Pioneers, AT&T's non-profit volunteer organization. Ralph was an active member until his return to the workforce. The Pioneers were needing active members to carry on their community service.
About the same time this happened, Comfort House, a non-profit organization, was having a fundraiser. Their flyer popped up on my news feed on Facebook.
Comfort House is a Special Care Facility for patients in their terminal stages of illness, whether it be cancer, Aids, etc. who have prognosis of 4 months or less of life to live. It's their desire to serve those who are in most dire need of their care. It's a 510(c)3 agency and donations are tax deductible.
It's a humble home with 10 bed homelike residences providing 24/7 care to anyone regardless of age, race, ethnicity, religion, social status or ability to pay. They work together with a hospice to provide a comfortable, clean place where your loved one can live with love and dignity. Their ministry of love and compassion goes beyond anything I could have imagined. They stand by you in whatever is needed, providing physical comfort, administering medications as directed by the hospice nurse, but what I felt most was the love, and selflessness of each member of their staff. Their love and prayers sustained our family during my mom's short stay.
They don't charge familes for their services. Families of residents are asked to make donations if they're able but it's not required nor expected. Other support comes from the community, gifts, fundraising activities and foundation grants. They do not seek Medicare or Medicaid reimbursement by choice. Community volunteers make up the difference that enables them to operate with a smaller staff. (Comfort House Services Inc. for more information.)
It is their mission to provide a peaceful, homelike environment where a person may die in peace, with dignity, surrounded by loved ones. It is their belief that no one should die in pain nor should they die alone.
They have served the community for 22 years.
So when the Pioneers asked us to continue their community services in the Valley, I jumped at the opportunity. But there is more to the story.
It was where I first heard of Victor Alvarez, a beautiful 23 year-old, who lived at Comfort House as a young boy because his family had given him up due to his illness, spinal muscular atrophy. He was not suppose to live long but he did, long enough to catch the eye of one volunteer, Elva Yolanda Morado, his mother who adopted him. He was a poet, artist, writer (he had column in "The Monitor") and an inspirational speaker. It was Victor who inspired me to return to college and finish my degree. I watched Victor as he attended Rayburn Elementary, then Morris, followed by McAllen High School or McHi as most of us know it. Victor fought to live...but was interrupted. He was called home on August 17, 2010.
Some of us are not crippled in body but in mind. Seeing Victor triumph gave me the courage to go back and finish my degree...in journalism and in life.
You can read more about Victor at Victor Manuel Alvarez - The Monitor
And there is still more...
One of the Pioneer representatives , Belinda Castillo Estrada, was someone from my past. Forty years ago, I was a bridesmaid at her wedding to Mario Estrada in Corpus Christi. Belinda and I hadn't seen each other since her wedding. So it was a homecoming besides a golden opportunity to serve. And just to extend the story further, her next door neighbor at the time was Thomas Weber. He was my escort at her wedding and if the name sounds familiar, it's because he is now married to one of my closest and dearest friend and classmate, Cynthia Garza Weber. As usual there is also another story but we'll let that one be. Everything happens for a reason. And while I may not be able to pronounce that reason at this moment, my life has come full circle, again.
Life is amazing isn't it?...or life can be amazing when you follow the dots...
Comfort House is in much need of donations. They provide meals for the staff and all volunteers. Check out their Wish list. Maybe you have some extra supplies you can spare. They'll appreciate it.
Thank you to the Pioneers, Debbie Martin and Belinda - Comfort House Administrator, Mary Botello and Margaret Gutierrez, administrative assistant - for all you do.
God Bless...
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Meditation and Forgiveness
The world is so different...yet some things remain the same.
With all the political, economical, and nature's turmoil going on in the world, I take 15 minutes out of my world and try to meditate. It is my favorite form of prayer. For years in my 20's and 30's, I had no problem. Today, it's a different. Before, I don't know if it's all my experiences, the things I've seen, or just life's daily challenges kept me from succeeding but it had been very difficult to silence my mind.
Lately, with the help of a dry sauna, the silence has gotten stronger. First of all, I am claustrophobic. Fortunately, the "box" has a glass door so light comes in, I can see out or if worse comes to worse, there is a soft white light you can turn on. It can remind you of a coffin which in itself is eerie, except that you're sitting down. In a way its symbolic like dying to oneself. When you silence the mind, you allow for our Lord to make the best of a bad situation. a win/win situation...what it should have been before we interfered with our opinions, thoughts and unfulfilled intentions.
Meditation is the best teacher of letting go. Now, just step back and watch and listen - you will without a shadow of a doubt begin to see and hear clearer, and literally, find light at the end of the tunnel. By the way prayer has the same effect, except we're telling him what we want. Meditation on the other hand lets it become what it should be.
Ok, ok...I'm just speaking from my experience but you never know...its worth trying.
One of the other things I practice in meditation is forgiveness. It makes my world brighter and has the same effect of letting go, and letting God. Sometimes you have to forgive over and over again, until you succeed in letting go completely.
There's a poem on forgiveness that I'd like to share with you. It's written by the late Robert Muller, former secretary-general of the United Nations. It speaks to our world today. Please take the time to read it.
Decide to Forgive
Decide to forgive
For resentment is negative.
Resentment is poisonous
Resentment diminishes and devours the self.
Be the first to forgive.
To smile and to take the first step
And you will see happiness bloom
On the face of your human brother or sister.
Be always the first
Do not wait for other to forgive
For by forgiving
you become the master of fate
The fashioner of life
A doer of miracles.
To forgive is the highest,
Most beautiful form of love.
In return you will receive
Untold peace and happiness.
And here is the program for achieving a truly forgiving heart:
Sunday: Forgive yourself.
Monday: Forgive your family.
Tuesday: Forgive your friends and associates.
Wednesday: Forgive across economic lines within your own nation.
Thursday: Forgive across cultural lines within your own nation.
Friday: Forgive across political lines within your own nation.
Saturday: Forgive other nations.
Only the brave know how to forgive. A coward never forgives.
It is not in his nature.
This poem has been printed many times. I'm sure you've seen it before, but it bears repeating.
Our world is in much need of prayer, forgiveness, and love. Fifteen minutes of prayer in silence is nothing. Let's help heal the world.
With all the political, economical, and nature's turmoil going on in the world, I take 15 minutes out of my world and try to meditate. It is my favorite form of prayer. For years in my 20's and 30's, I had no problem. Today, it's a different. Before, I don't know if it's all my experiences, the things I've seen, or just life's daily challenges kept me from succeeding but it had been very difficult to silence my mind.
Lately, with the help of a dry sauna, the silence has gotten stronger. First of all, I am claustrophobic. Fortunately, the "box" has a glass door so light comes in, I can see out or if worse comes to worse, there is a soft white light you can turn on. It can remind you of a coffin which in itself is eerie, except that you're sitting down. In a way its symbolic like dying to oneself. When you silence the mind, you allow for our Lord to make the best of a bad situation. a win/win situation...what it should have been before we interfered with our opinions, thoughts and unfulfilled intentions.
Meditation is the best teacher of letting go. Now, just step back and watch and listen - you will without a shadow of a doubt begin to see and hear clearer, and literally, find light at the end of the tunnel. By the way prayer has the same effect, except we're telling him what we want. Meditation on the other hand lets it become what it should be.
Ok, ok...I'm just speaking from my experience but you never know...its worth trying.
One of the other things I practice in meditation is forgiveness. It makes my world brighter and has the same effect of letting go, and letting God. Sometimes you have to forgive over and over again, until you succeed in letting go completely.
There's a poem on forgiveness that I'd like to share with you. It's written by the late Robert Muller, former secretary-general of the United Nations. It speaks to our world today. Please take the time to read it.
Decide to Forgive
Decide to forgive
For resentment is negative.
Resentment is poisonous
Resentment diminishes and devours the self.
Be the first to forgive.
To smile and to take the first step
And you will see happiness bloom
On the face of your human brother or sister.
Be always the first
Do not wait for other to forgive
For by forgiving
you become the master of fate
The fashioner of life
A doer of miracles.
To forgive is the highest,
Most beautiful form of love.
In return you will receive
Untold peace and happiness.
And here is the program for achieving a truly forgiving heart:
Sunday: Forgive yourself.
Monday: Forgive your family.
Tuesday: Forgive your friends and associates.
Wednesday: Forgive across economic lines within your own nation.
Thursday: Forgive across cultural lines within your own nation.
Friday: Forgive across political lines within your own nation.
Saturday: Forgive other nations.
Only the brave know how to forgive. A coward never forgives.
It is not in his nature.
This poem has been printed many times. I'm sure you've seen it before, but it bears repeating.
Our world is in much need of prayer, forgiveness, and love. Fifteen minutes of prayer in silence is nothing. Let's help heal the world.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Tortillas
When I was a little girl, my mom would give me pieces of dough (flour tortillas) and I would desperately try to spread the bit of dough into a semi-circle. Regardless of shape, my mom would place them on the comal (couldn't think of the English equivalent...skillet?) and cook my afternoon's work. Daddy would come home and ooh and ah over my tortillas. He would add, "When you grow up you can make tortillas for Daddy." Well, say no more, I was going to turn out those babies just like my mama.
Then puberty set in. Boys mainly. Somehow the intricacies of tortilla making were no longer up there with serving my father with said same prize tortillas. But someone had to put tortillas on the table and that job belonged to me.
It was a way of life. I was reminded again of my responsibility during Hurricane Beulah. My grandparents lived in Madero, just south of Mission. During Hurricane Beulah, the levy(s) were flooded so my grandparents came to stay with us in Mission. On the first day of their two week stay, Grandma Tomasita herded me into the kitchen at 4 o'clock in the afternoon.
"It's time to start supper." she told me.
"But guellita, we don't eat until daddy gets home and that's not until 6." I answered.
One look and that was it. For two weeks, I had to have the stack of tortillas ready by the time my dad arrived at 6 o'clock. Dad was more flexible so he wasn't concerned if supper wasn't ready right at 6 but I had them ready nonetheless. This responsibility lasted until I graduated from high school but I had made up my mind, I was NOT going to be stuck making flour tortillas for anyone, anytime....until I met my husband.
I had to bring it!! This Valley girl could make flour tortillas from scratch (besides every savory, mexican dish you can name...except mole) Well, the tortilla making honeymoon lasted about five months but I got my man and the rest is history.
Until now...
I was making chicken soup and told Ralph flour tortillas would be nice, but we were out of flour tortillas.
Ralph looked at me and I looked at him and then it happened. I opened my mouth.
"You know, hon, I used to know how to make flour tortillas from scratch. Remember?" I reminded him.
"Do you think you still remember?" he asked.
"Lets find out." I told him. "I have all the ingredients."
So I reprised my prized tortillas.
Nice, huh? The tortillas tasted better, fresher. And now I'm back, making tortillas this time because I can. This time its art. I don't mean on the tortilla (chortle). It's the art of making the tortilla. I don't have a recipe...its just a feel...something I learned all those years of making them when I was a little girl.
Now, making tortillas is full of memories...my mom, my dad, Sunday family dinners and though those reading this will never know...they taste great!
* * *
Happy New Year everyone! It been a long time since I blogged. Today was the first time I felt like writing. again.
Then puberty set in. Boys mainly. Somehow the intricacies of tortilla making were no longer up there with serving my father with said same prize tortillas. But someone had to put tortillas on the table and that job belonged to me.
It was a way of life. I was reminded again of my responsibility during Hurricane Beulah. My grandparents lived in Madero, just south of Mission. During Hurricane Beulah, the levy(s) were flooded so my grandparents came to stay with us in Mission. On the first day of their two week stay, Grandma Tomasita herded me into the kitchen at 4 o'clock in the afternoon.
"It's time to start supper." she told me.
"But guellita, we don't eat until daddy gets home and that's not until 6." I answered.
One look and that was it. For two weeks, I had to have the stack of tortillas ready by the time my dad arrived at 6 o'clock. Dad was more flexible so he wasn't concerned if supper wasn't ready right at 6 but I had them ready nonetheless. This responsibility lasted until I graduated from high school but I had made up my mind, I was NOT going to be stuck making flour tortillas for anyone, anytime....until I met my husband.
I had to bring it!! This Valley girl could make flour tortillas from scratch (besides every savory, mexican dish you can name...except mole) Well, the tortilla making honeymoon lasted about five months but I got my man and the rest is history.
Until now...
I was making chicken soup and told Ralph flour tortillas would be nice, but we were out of flour tortillas.
Ralph looked at me and I looked at him and then it happened. I opened my mouth.
"You know, hon, I used to know how to make flour tortillas from scratch. Remember?" I reminded him.
"Do you think you still remember?" he asked.
"Lets find out." I told him. "I have all the ingredients."
So I reprised my prized tortillas.
Nice, huh? The tortillas tasted better, fresher. And now I'm back, making tortillas this time because I can. This time its art. I don't mean on the tortilla (chortle). It's the art of making the tortilla. I don't have a recipe...its just a feel...something I learned all those years of making them when I was a little girl.
Now, making tortillas is full of memories...my mom, my dad, Sunday family dinners and though those reading this will never know...they taste great!
* * *
Happy New Year everyone! It been a long time since I blogged. Today was the first time I felt like writing. again.
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