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.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
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.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Father's Day
Hope y'all don't mind...In honor of father's everywhere...
These are the father's in my life...
My father, Guadalupe Corpus...
This will be the second Father's Day I'll be missing my dad. He passed away June 11, 2010. I think about my Dad everyday....all day lately, since my mom's illness. Dad's passing away has brought many revelations for me.
The pictures above has been the latest. I didn't know quite where I fit in, in my family that is. I didn't "see" myself in my parents or siblings.(Physically or emotionally...there was a time I thought I was adopted.) I thought I looked like my Grandma Tomasa but I looked at her picture at mom's house just the other day and found I looked nothing like her. No one has ever said you look like so and so, well maybe my mom...but I don't see it. To my surprise I found the two pictures above very similar. Wow! I look like my Dad. Duh! Where have I been? I realized....I'm the most like my Dad, temper included.
Last week my brother and I went through Dad's things. We found journals with notes, meetings, names, and numbers. He kept minutes of any discussions he thought were important. Same way I do. I didn't know it but he was a good bookkeeper, too. So am I. It made me smile.
Thank you, Daddy, for your gifts. Your gift love for reading, your love of family, love for the unknown, for your "socialness", for teaching me what true faith is, let God be the judge, not me. I love you...miss you.
* * *
I was also very lucky to have a wonderful, beautiful father-in-law, whom I love very much.
Ralph P. Garza
[acquiring photo]
Gosh, I loved him. Thank you for all the time we spent together. We would talk politics, Edinburg history, and his childhood; I liked his childhood stories the best. Miss you, Dad.
* * *
Then there was my grandfather, Amado Lopez, Sr. My grandpa had a handlebar mustache. He smoked cigarettes.
When I would kiss grandpa, I could smell the cigarette smoke on his mustache. Don't ask me why but I liked that smell...the feel and smell would give me warm fuzzies. When I met Ralph, he had a mustache...and he smoked. I remember how I would get butterflies in my stomach when he kissed me...and the warm fuzzies.
I told Ralph that's why I fell in love with him...he reminded me of my grandfather, the smoke, the mustache and no one else loved me like my grandfather...
My hubby, whose buttons I can push, makes everything all right, messes up, and never gives up...Happy Father's Day.
We've seen it all and been through so much. Thank you for loving me when I had Bell's Palsy. Even though my face fell off the map, you loved me even more. When we had Sam and I went back in the hospital you held the fort alone with 2 toddlers and a 3-day old. You've been at every birth, first everything, football game, competition, track meet, practices of all kinds, band concerts, open school nights - anything that involved any of your daughters. When it came to college, you even sent me back to school, too...and even when the girls were all grown up and living at home...you'd call home before we'd leave the restaurant to see if you could take something home for them.
You've done an awesome job, Ralph F. Garza. I love you...Happy Father's Day.
* * *
TO ALL THE FATHERS IN THE WORLD - HAPPY FATHER'S DAY!...today and everyday!
...
These are the father's in my life...
My father, Guadalupe Corpus...
This will be the second Father's Day I'll be missing my dad. He passed away June 11, 2010. I think about my Dad everyday....all day lately, since my mom's illness. Dad's passing away has brought many revelations for me.
The pictures above has been the latest. I didn't know quite where I fit in, in my family that is. I didn't "see" myself in my parents or siblings.(Physically or emotionally...there was a time I thought I was adopted.) I thought I looked like my Grandma Tomasa but I looked at her picture at mom's house just the other day and found I looked nothing like her. No one has ever said you look like so and so, well maybe my mom...but I don't see it. To my surprise I found the two pictures above very similar. Wow! I look like my Dad. Duh! Where have I been? I realized....I'm the most like my Dad, temper included.
Last week my brother and I went through Dad's things. We found journals with notes, meetings, names, and numbers. He kept minutes of any discussions he thought were important. Same way I do. I didn't know it but he was a good bookkeeper, too. So am I. It made me smile.
Thank you, Daddy, for your gifts. Your gift love for reading, your love of family, love for the unknown, for your "socialness", for teaching me what true faith is, let God be the judge, not me. I love you...miss you.
* * *
I was also very lucky to have a wonderful, beautiful father-in-law, whom I love very much.
Ralph P. Garza
[acquiring photo]
Gosh, I loved him. Thank you for all the time we spent together. We would talk politics, Edinburg history, and his childhood; I liked his childhood stories the best. Miss you, Dad.
* * *
Then there was my grandfather, Amado Lopez, Sr. My grandpa had a handlebar mustache. He smoked cigarettes.
When I would kiss grandpa, I could smell the cigarette smoke on his mustache. Don't ask me why but I liked that smell...the feel and smell would give me warm fuzzies. When I met Ralph, he had a mustache...and he smoked. I remember how I would get butterflies in my stomach when he kissed me...and the warm fuzzies.
I told Ralph that's why I fell in love with him...he reminded me of my grandfather, the smoke, the mustache and no one else loved me like my grandfather...
Thanks Grandpa, for making me feel special, only, you, made all my cousins feel special, too. After you passed away, we all thought each of us was your favorite grandchild...we were!!! I love you and miss you, too.
* * *
I saved the best for last...
My husband and father of our children, Ralph F. Garza.
 |
| Sam likes Daddy's mustache, too! |
My hubby, whose buttons I can push, makes everything all right, messes up, and never gives up...Happy Father's Day.
We've seen it all and been through so much. Thank you for loving me when I had Bell's Palsy. Even though my face fell off the map, you loved me even more. When we had Sam and I went back in the hospital you held the fort alone with 2 toddlers and a 3-day old. You've been at every birth, first everything, football game, competition, track meet, practices of all kinds, band concerts, open school nights - anything that involved any of your daughters. When it came to college, you even sent me back to school, too...and even when the girls were all grown up and living at home...you'd call home before we'd leave the restaurant to see if you could take something home for them.
You've done an awesome job, Ralph F. Garza. I love you...Happy Father's Day.
* * *
TO ALL THE FATHERS IN THE WORLD - HAPPY FATHER'S DAY!...today and everyday!
...
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Celebrating Friends...
Today is Cynthia Garza Weber's birthday.
Cynthia and I have known each other since Kindergarten at Our Lady of Guadalupe Catholic School days. Celia, Cynthia and I...in that basement classroom with Mrs. Lopez. And unbeknown to me was that when Celia was born at McAllen General Hospital, Cynthia was just down the hall in another room...destined to be best friends with Celia forever. I love you, Cyn. Hope you have a wonderful birthday.
* * *
Several years ago, while visiting Corpus Christi, Ralph and I met a lovely couple, Peter and Wendy Smith from England. Yes, just like in Peter Pan. They were just darling people. They were traveling through the valley birdwatching. Their plans were to head to McAllen the following weekend. Soooo, I invited them to my daughter Samantha's high school graduation party that was set the following weekend. It was the traditional McHi Kicker Dance.
The following weekend Peter and Wendy arrived and attended our graduation party. Wendy and Peter couldn't believe their eyes! They loved it! No one knows how to celebrate better than Texans!
Over the years we've kept in touch exchanging Christmas cards. This year we got another visit...Mandy and Wendy (Mandy is Wendy's daughter). They had already been two weeks on the road visiting Texas sites and photographing our birding bonanzas (I say that because the Valley has one of the largest bird residencies in the U.S.) The Smiths and Mandy belong to a Bird Club. They take pictures of all the birds they site, take them back to England, and everyone has a smashing time identifying their trip cache.
We spotted several birds in our back yard and showed off our beautiful cacti blossoms...unfortunately the ones shown are the few I had photographed.
Next time, I'll photograph them when they're all blooming.
It's a small world after all...
Cynthia and I have known each other since Kindergarten at Our Lady of Guadalupe Catholic School days. Celia, Cynthia and I...in that basement classroom with Mrs. Lopez. And unbeknown to me was that when Celia was born at McAllen General Hospital, Cynthia was just down the hall in another room...destined to be best friends with Celia forever. I love you, Cyn. Hope you have a wonderful birthday.
* * *
Several years ago, while visiting Corpus Christi, Ralph and I met a lovely couple, Peter and Wendy Smith from England. Yes, just like in Peter Pan. They were just darling people. They were traveling through the valley birdwatching. Their plans were to head to McAllen the following weekend. Soooo, I invited them to my daughter Samantha's high school graduation party that was set the following weekend. It was the traditional McHi Kicker Dance.
The following weekend Peter and Wendy arrived and attended our graduation party. Wendy and Peter couldn't believe their eyes! They loved it! No one knows how to celebrate better than Texans!
Over the years we've kept in touch exchanging Christmas cards. This year we got another visit...Mandy and Wendy (Mandy is Wendy's daughter). They had already been two weeks on the road visiting Texas sites and photographing our birding bonanzas (I say that because the Valley has one of the largest bird residencies in the U.S.) The Smiths and Mandy belong to a Bird Club. They take pictures of all the birds they site, take them back to England, and everyone has a smashing time identifying their trip cache.
 |
| Wendy, Ralph and Mandy. |
 |
| I don't know the name but this one has a crown of flowers that bloom perfectly in a ring . |
Next time, I'll photograph them when they're all blooming.
It's a small world after all...
Monday, May 23, 2011
Celebrating Friends...
From Mission High School Class of 1970 - Mission, Texas
Today is Celia's Birthday...
None of us can forget Celia...she left an indelible mark on our hearts. I get to visit Celia often since she's a stone throw away from my in-laws at Valley Memorial Gardens...her and Jaime Barrera.
Several years ago, Cynthia Garza Weber purchased a plaque with left over monies from donations from classmates for Celia's flowers.
GONE BUT NEVER FORGOTTEN!!
Today is Celia's Birthday...
Celia Munoz Badiozzamani
Born May 23, 1952, left us November 21, 2006...
None of us can forget Celia...she left an indelible mark on our hearts. I get to visit Celia often since she's a stone throw away from my in-laws at Valley Memorial Gardens...her and Jaime Barrera.
Several years ago, Cynthia Garza Weber purchased a plaque with left over monies from donations from classmates for Celia's flowers.
The family did not accept it.
(We respect their wishes but hope someday it will be besides her.)
Celia,
Girl, I can't believe it's been this long. I miss you. It's not the same, Celia...without you. In the past if I thought about you, I'd pick up the phone and call...you had an easy number...the last four digits ended in S H I T...that's how you taught me to remember it...remember? Cynthia and I talk about you all the time. We wanted to share with you that two of our daughters are getting married...on the same day, December 10th. Cynthia and Tom will be in Austin; we'll be in Kyle...thirteen miles south. Cynthia's going to have a special table with pictures of all the family members that have gone before, your picture will be among them. Cynthia says she knows you'll be attending.
We'll be having our 41st class reunion on Friday, June 17th, Celia. Drop by, won't you. You'll get to hear the #1 complaint: "We never thought growing old was going to be like this!" If you were around, we'd be laughing at that...probably ROFLMAO!!! (I know you kept telling me you were not computer literate and you left us before Facebook became so big so I hope you can figure out what it stands for.)
Well, you know the state of things in the world, Celia...please pray for us. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CELIA!
Love you,
Di
Friday, March 18, 2011
Friends & Kapok!
Happiness...is seeing my friends...
It happens often. I'll think of someone and they'll call... or if I'm lucky, I'm going to see them . That was the case with Mark. About a week ago, I was thinking about Mark Mills and thought I'd write something on Facebook, "Missing you, Mark...How are you?" It turned out Mark was planning a trip to the Valley to visit his mom and participate in a Golf Tournament of past high school golf players. Coinkidink!
The golf tournament, founded by Pat Thompson Jr., began about four years ago. Pat wrote me an e-mail and I responded with a list of classmates, under and over, who I knew had played golf. Well, apparently it is now an annual thing. They raise money for different causes.
John Leidner commented to Mark's post and said he'd be down, too. His visit - a family reunion.
Wow! Mark and I saw each other about 10 years ago. Mark, Nancy Gibson Hyslin and I met for lunch...it was great. The last time I saw John, was at our 35th class reunion. We managed to find a window of opportunity to meet and we did. It wasn't easy...but we agreed on breakfast at IHOP at 8:00 a.m. (Yes, it was early for us "retired" folks.) Mark invited Nancy and I invited Janie de Leon Barratachea. I also invited Mike Warshak but Mikey had a conflict and was unable to get out of it.
It was wonderful! We compared aches and pains...moms and dads...spouses and grandchildren and reminisced about good ole Mission. There's an awful lot of history in this small group. A great time was had by all. We said goodbye...and promised, we wouldn't wait ten years to do it again.
What we did decide was...next time we'll meet in Las Vegas....hehehe!!!
(Or if Nancy White Carmack brings us together...maybe Dallas...)
* * *
While driving my mom home one day, this tree caught my eye. Before I turned into mom's street I made a detour to the right and mom flipped...well, I had to go back. The bark was gray and green with huge thorns. It looked like someone had place cotton balls all over the tree. In actuality that cotton ball is the blossom. As destiny would have it, there were many reasons I got to see Nancy Gibson. I have been holding on to this photo because I couldn't find the name of the tree. I've seen it at UTPA (that's University of Texas- Pan American for all you non-valleyites out there.) but I've never known what it's called.
Nancy knew. It's called Kapok, Silky-cotton tree or sometimes referred to as Silky Floss. The tree is originally from South America but now it can be seen in West Africa and Southeastern Asian rainforests.
Since this tree is drought deciduous (that means it looses all its leaves during the tropical dry season), the five-pedal blossom appears before the leaves show up again and is white or pale pink. I didn't get close but the odor of the blossom is supposed to be unpleasant because it's meant to attract BATS that pollinate it. The leaves are at the top-most of the tree and it shades like an umbrella so I can see why we can't smell it...which might be a good thing.
The seeds, found in pods, are brown and round like peas. These pods will burst open while still on the trees after the leaves have fallen. The whitish (sometimes pale pink) cotton fiber surrounds the brown seeds.
Some use the trunk of the kapok tree to make dugout canoes. The white, fluffy seed covering is used in pillows and mattresses. The tree is buoyant and water resistant and is often used in flotation devices and padding. The seeds, leaves, bark and resin have been used to treat dysentery, fever, asthma and kidney disease. And my favorite thing about it that I didn't know is that in Mayan myths the kapok tree was sacred. They believed that the souls of the dead would climb up into the branches which reached into heaven.
Since this siting, I've seen two more on Pamela street. Although those are babies compared to this one, there is another one at UTPA in the inside garden just outside the Field House...that one is MAJESTIC!
Peace!
It happens often. I'll think of someone and they'll call... or if I'm lucky, I'm going to see them . That was the case with Mark. About a week ago, I was thinking about Mark Mills and thought I'd write something on Facebook, "Missing you, Mark...How are you?" It turned out Mark was planning a trip to the Valley to visit his mom and participate in a Golf Tournament of past high school golf players. Coinkidink!
The golf tournament, founded by Pat Thompson Jr., began about four years ago. Pat wrote me an e-mail and I responded with a list of classmates, under and over, who I knew had played golf. Well, apparently it is now an annual thing. They raise money for different causes.
John Leidner commented to Mark's post and said he'd be down, too. His visit - a family reunion.
Wow! Mark and I saw each other about 10 years ago. Mark, Nancy Gibson Hyslin and I met for lunch...it was great. The last time I saw John, was at our 35th class reunion. We managed to find a window of opportunity to meet and we did. It wasn't easy...but we agreed on breakfast at IHOP at 8:00 a.m. (Yes, it was early for us "retired" folks.) Mark invited Nancy and I invited Janie de Leon Barratachea. I also invited Mike Warshak but Mikey had a conflict and was unable to get out of it.
 |
| L to R: Nancy Gibson Hyslin, Mark Mills, John Leidner, Diana Corpus Garza, Janie De Leon Barratachea |
What we did decide was...next time we'll meet in Las Vegas....hehehe!!!
(Or if Nancy White Carmack brings us together...maybe Dallas...)
* * *
 |
| Kapok or Silk-cotton tree |
While driving my mom home one day, this tree caught my eye. Before I turned into mom's street I made a detour to the right and mom flipped...well, I had to go back. The bark was gray and green with huge thorns. It looked like someone had place cotton balls all over the tree. In actuality that cotton ball is the blossom. As destiny would have it, there were many reasons I got to see Nancy Gibson. I have been holding on to this photo because I couldn't find the name of the tree. I've seen it at UTPA (that's University of Texas- Pan American for all you non-valleyites out there.) but I've never known what it's called.
Nancy knew. It's called Kapok, Silky-cotton tree or sometimes referred to as Silky Floss. The tree is originally from South America but now it can be seen in West Africa and Southeastern Asian rainforests.
Since this tree is drought deciduous (that means it looses all its leaves during the tropical dry season), the five-pedal blossom appears before the leaves show up again and is white or pale pink. I didn't get close but the odor of the blossom is supposed to be unpleasant because it's meant to attract BATS that pollinate it. The leaves are at the top-most of the tree and it shades like an umbrella so I can see why we can't smell it...which might be a good thing.
The seeds, found in pods, are brown and round like peas. These pods will burst open while still on the trees after the leaves have fallen. The whitish (sometimes pale pink) cotton fiber surrounds the brown seeds.
Some use the trunk of the kapok tree to make dugout canoes. The white, fluffy seed covering is used in pillows and mattresses. The tree is buoyant and water resistant and is often used in flotation devices and padding. The seeds, leaves, bark and resin have been used to treat dysentery, fever, asthma and kidney disease. And my favorite thing about it that I didn't know is that in Mayan myths the kapok tree was sacred. They believed that the souls of the dead would climb up into the branches which reached into heaven.
Since this siting, I've seen two more on Pamela street. Although those are babies compared to this one, there is another one at UTPA in the inside garden just outside the Field House...that one is MAJESTIC!
Peace!
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Tsunamis
This particular day and blog is dedicated to Nancy White Carmack for her unwavering faith and effervescent heart.
You can read her blog at: Nancy's blog
The thought occurred to me last night; I was thinking about my "tsunamis." Was I handling them well? The answer was a resounding, "NO!"
I have been struggling with my prayer life. Meditation has been difficult at best. Keeping my Lenten promises have loomed more like weights on my heart then the freedom praying offers. But last night was different. I realized that like in a tsunami, separation occurs. Separation of everything I hold as true, real and viable in my life. While the experience is horrific, whether physical or mental, its our reaction that dictates the outcome. How we react to that "separation" that we thought was our life will speak volumes of who we are.
Watching the news, it's clear that the Japanese people and their culture speaks volumes. Their kindness, their RESPECT above everything else - and even before the worst is over it's family, children, the human factor first.
My tsunamis were taking over. It was evident while praying my rosary. I burst into tears as I prayed "Hail, Holy Queen..."Pray for us, O holy Mother of God, that we may be made worthy of the promises of God." Then it came to me. I had prayed the Sorrowful Mysteries this evening and I was reminded of a particular meditation I had experienced in my younger years. The first Sorrowful Mystery is the Agony in the Garden. In my meditation I could see Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, praying intensely, and I in my arrogance asked him what I could do for him. He turned to me, angry and said, "What can you do for me? What can I do for you?" His answer startled me and brought me back to my waking state. Strangely, if your Catholic, you know that the Sorrowful mysteries are to be prayed on Tuesdays...it was Monday night.
Nonetheless, it made me see my trivial, petty, mundane tsunamis I was carrying while our Lord was carrying the weight of the world and he was still asking me what he could do for me.
He had already done it...I was just having difficulty letting go. I knew what I had to do and it wasn't going to be easy. But God had already done most of the work for me, I just needed to open my eyes and my heart and trust him. It was "a dark night of the soul" last night, but I finally placed it in God's hands trusting he would show me.
This morning, my answer and affirmation was there clear and open. I felt the tears wash my face, as they also washed my heart when I read Nancy's blog...and peace rushed in.
Nancy, you are a blessing.
They say that insanity is expecting change when you keep doing the same thing over and over again. While the process was devastating, I am still standing, still able...and WILLING to start over. For that, I am grateful, to be able to let go, to let the peace rush in.
God Bless!
Peace!
You can read her blog at: Nancy's blog
The thought occurred to me last night; I was thinking about my "tsunamis." Was I handling them well? The answer was a resounding, "NO!"
I have been struggling with my prayer life. Meditation has been difficult at best. Keeping my Lenten promises have loomed more like weights on my heart then the freedom praying offers. But last night was different. I realized that like in a tsunami, separation occurs. Separation of everything I hold as true, real and viable in my life. While the experience is horrific, whether physical or mental, its our reaction that dictates the outcome. How we react to that "separation" that we thought was our life will speak volumes of who we are.
Watching the news, it's clear that the Japanese people and their culture speaks volumes. Their kindness, their RESPECT above everything else - and even before the worst is over it's family, children, the human factor first.
My tsunamis were taking over. It was evident while praying my rosary. I burst into tears as I prayed "Hail, Holy Queen..."Pray for us, O holy Mother of God, that we may be made worthy of the promises of God." Then it came to me. I had prayed the Sorrowful Mysteries this evening and I was reminded of a particular meditation I had experienced in my younger years. The first Sorrowful Mystery is the Agony in the Garden. In my meditation I could see Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, praying intensely, and I in my arrogance asked him what I could do for him. He turned to me, angry and said, "What can you do for me? What can I do for you?" His answer startled me and brought me back to my waking state. Strangely, if your Catholic, you know that the Sorrowful mysteries are to be prayed on Tuesdays...it was Monday night.
Nonetheless, it made me see my trivial, petty, mundane tsunamis I was carrying while our Lord was carrying the weight of the world and he was still asking me what he could do for me.
He had already done it...I was just having difficulty letting go. I knew what I had to do and it wasn't going to be easy. But God had already done most of the work for me, I just needed to open my eyes and my heart and trust him. It was "a dark night of the soul" last night, but I finally placed it in God's hands trusting he would show me.
This morning, my answer and affirmation was there clear and open. I felt the tears wash my face, as they also washed my heart when I read Nancy's blog...and peace rushed in.
Nancy, you are a blessing.
They say that insanity is expecting change when you keep doing the same thing over and over again. While the process was devastating, I am still standing, still able...and WILLING to start over. For that, I am grateful, to be able to let go, to let the peace rush in.
God Bless!
Peace!
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