When prince charming detours

Why is it that we are built with the desire to be loved? Appreciated for what we are, tolerated for what we are not. And what in us makes us envy those who have found it so that when your friend shows you her drop dead gorgeous ring makes you wonder where your prince detoured?

In a film love is portrayed so effortless. I mean, it would be nice to believe that one day I’ll walk into my favorite coffee shop and he will be walking out - as we carelessly spill our coffee and offer a million apologies. Our hands will touch. Our eyes will meet. He will smile, I will gleam. Music will play and our lives will be forever intertwined… but life doesn’t happen that way.

While talking to a friend who is in her early 30’s, she sighs as I tell her of a mutual friend’s engagement. She looks at me and says “Where is my happy ending?”

What do you do when Prince Charming seems to be taking longer to arrive?

Do you buy a neon light in the shape of an arrow pointing towards you?

Do you wear a t-shirt that says “Desperate”?

Or do you like Snow White hope, dream, and sing that “someday (your) prince will come…”

The eternal hopeful...

I sat there listening to my friend complain about the girl he was involved with. Her lack of commitment has him a bit confused and bit worn out. And I may not know what to do when it comes to love. But I know what not to do. So as I sat there telling him time after time exactly what it was that he needed to stop doing, his hopeful heart would make up excuses for why she acted the way she acted. A part of me hurt for him, another part wanted to shake him. But when the heart it that much involved rational thinking is like trying to explain to a teacher why your dog ate your homework. Completely useless.

So it got me thinking --- Why is it that no matter how bad it really is something within us makes up theories of why it’s not going our way?

He didn’t call all week

“He was really busy, you know, work, the mtgs, service. It’s a lot”

She can’t commit

“She has a lot going on she must have problems. And I shouldn’t pressure her. I need to be more patient”

I don’t believe love should be a battle at all or a constant wish lost among the stars hoping that tomorrow will be different. But then again love is so powerful that rational thinking sometimes simply does not exist.

Is it that when we are born something or someone drills into us that love after all conquers everything? Or the effect of so many “happily ever afters” in movies that makes us believe Still that we too can find our happy ending…

A big hole

"What seems to be the problem?"

I looked at him and just stared. And in that moment remembered a memory of long ago.

I was 5 and I was behind a house, nearby my grandmothers. But before me stood this huge hole. To cross to the other side I had two choices 1) go across a run down, beaten piece of wood 2) or stay as close to the wall as possible hoping my feet wouldn't slip.

But maneuver my way around it I must. So there i was 5, trying to get across that immense whole. And as my fear and anxiety grew the whole appeared to be bigger. My brother and sister all ready across, my fear of falling or getting hurt would not allow me to do so. Instead I was frozen, unable to move or go on. And all I could do was feel myself shake with uncertainty.

"What seems to be the problem?" he asked again.

"A big hole" I said.

"What?" he looked at me startled.

I looked at him and smiled realizing that he was asking what was the problem with my tire. Being that Iwas at a tire shop.

After a long day your mind tends to wonder!

On my drive back home I began to think again. The trouble with being at the starting line of the rest of your life is that it feels like there's an immense hole in front of you. To get across it requires a leap of faith. It requires saying goodbye to the past, and moving blindly into the future. With all but the most sincere desire to not get hurt or fall.

Wired for idiocy

"Are guys automatically wired to be stupid? Or do somewhere after 8 do they suddenly turn so?"

When your little they pull your hair or stick gum in it... but that's as far as they can hurt you. As girls (of course before men do) we realize that cooties don't really exist and all of a sudden that extra attention isn't that bothersome.

Crushes were innocent then. He'd sit across from you, give you his pencil after accidentally breaking yours. Share his pudding during lunch. Bring you a dandelion during recess. Let you cut in front of him while in line. *Sigh* those days had potential. But somewhere along the line they lose their innocence and their tactful ways. They forget what hearts are for.

"Are guys automatically wired to be stupid?" My friend asks again. "Yes" I said.

"I always dreamed love would be effortless" she said. At the sound of those words everyone began to laugh. Because with time you learn it isn't. And that having to get gum out of your hair was easier then mending a broken heart.

But we all sat there listening to her complain about how dumb he was. And I nodded in agreement. Because that's what you do when a guy does your friend wrong. You don't question it or over analyze it; you just reassure them that they are right.

The Hourglass

First published November 12 2007

Every Thursday after service I visit a sister from my hall. She is 90 yrs old. At a glance she looks fragile, and old, sick and worn out. But she is no ordinary sister. She is one of the first Spanish speaking witnesses in the north Texas area. She has been here before any of us came around. She has stories that would amaze anyone.

I visit her every Thursday, sometimes we talk, sometimes we drink orange juice, sometimes I just drop off the weekly bouquet of flowers I take her. And when she’s weak sometimes we just sit. Her sunken eyes peer up over her glasses once in a while… looking over she’ll grab my hand and say “ya no falta mucho”.

“It wont be long” she says. And it won’t. See she’s sick. She has cancer and in the medical standpoint – has no hope. She’s dying. Slowly but surely.

Last Thursday as I sat there talking to her daughter. She handed me over a brochure. The hospice brought it over, titled --- The process of death.

And sure enough in it you found the signs that would arise as the person reaches death. On one side it mentioned the symptoms: their loss of appetite, hands getting colder, their weakening heart… etc. Beside it, the methods of coping with the symptoms. As I read about the process I couldn’t help but think that in between those lines there was no real method for coping with the pain of death. Because you can put the symptoms in paper… but the emotions of watching someone you love slowly die… that cannot be written.

I found myself again this Sunday watching someone slowly give out the last of them. I sat there watching the shadow of what used to be one of the most outgoing, sweetest, and funniest guys I’ve ever known. Now strapped to machines and breathing hard. I sat there watching him struggle to live. He too has no hope. Cystic fibrosis has taken its toll. And at a very short 23 he has but days to live.

Surrounded by friends and family who nervously await the end, he opens his eyes once in a while and with a crooked smile will say… “What’s the score?” The cowboys are playing and still in his character he hopes they will lose.

I sat there watching his mom and dad for a while as they huddled over him. Making sure he was comfortable and that his pain was limited. With tears in her eyes his mom holds his hand squeezing it once in a while as if to make sure he’s still alive. And every time she does my heart sinks. And I pray for Jehovah to give them all strength.

When you find yourself in front of the process of death you cant help but humble yourself and realize just how short life is, how tomorrow isn’t quite guaranteed. Watching death take its toll you can’t help but to feel powerless. Watching the pain it can cause you can’t help but feel sad. Watching the process of death as it slowly ends a life is like watching an hour glass drop every grain… you know it’ll eventually run out and still you can’t help but hope there will be one more grain of sand.

Curls, dimples, and chubby cheeks

First published August 23 2007

In any particular bad day I have habits to make myself better. One- I put on my grandmothers nightgown. Something about it just gives me peace. Its yellow, made of cotton, with white flowers. Nothing I would pick out a store to buy. But when I wear it I feel at ease. And last but not least. I make myself chamomile tea - the Mexican antidote to everything... or so I’ve been told.

And when none of that seems to work... I baby-sit my niece. Don’t underestimate the power of a child. One look at their dimples and all your troubles seem to melt away. My niece has that effect on me. I cant escape her curls, dimples, and chubby cheeks. No matter how tired or out of mind I am. She brings me back to solid ground. She's crazy and a bit of overwhelming but nonetheless my best medicine.

When she was born I was facing a lot of difficulties in my life. I was a mess. Crying if anyone just touched me or looked my way. But my niece would come around and just holding her would make me feel okay. And out of nowhere the corners of my mouth would creep up slowly even after not having smiled for days. And an adorable doing of hers would cause laughter i hadn't heard in weeks.

A child can do that. Remind you that happiness lies in the smallest of details. That life isn't and shouldn't be that complicated. And that oh-oh's are just opportunities to redo things again. That the smallest accomplishments deserve applause. That choosing to not see or not be seen is as easy as covering your eyes. And that sad moments can become happy moments by simple changing the way you look at things.

Imagine how different life would be if everyone had the mind of a child. or like in the words of Robert Fulghum:

"Think what a better world it would be if we all - the whole world - had cookies and milk about three o'clock every afternoon and then lay down with our blankies for a nap."

Love is

First published May 09 2007

As I sat there in the dining room, I watched my parents dancing in the living room. They were smiling and something about the way they held each other told you there was a lot of love between them. My dad twirling my mom and both complaining about their back issues. My dad teasing her about how they weren’t young anymore. They were laughing so hard my dad tripped and both came falling down on the couch. And they laughed and laughed. My dad leans in and kisses my mom on her forehead and she smiles and looks into his eyes. I sigh and realize that’s exactly what I want for my future.

They’ve been married for about 30yrs now. Have 3 kids and one grandchild. My dad will turn 50 in February and my mom 48 in September. They’ve built a whole life with their love. They see me looking at this point and start over one more time the story about how they met.

De donde vine yo… (Where I came from)

By Miriam

Far from the highway to the city of mines, past the hissing of the rattlesnakes and close to the horizon where the sun meets the mountains, in a small rural town the telenovela (soap-opera) of my family began.

Don Lencho was a good looking man- tall, with blue eyes and light skin. He was married to the woman most feared in town. Maria Hernandez. Her name is even a catch phrase of the region. Said to you if your being stubborn and yelling too much. She was feared by many in more ways than one. No one dared contradict her and no one dared stand in her presence more than needed. Together they had 13 children. 10 of who still live today.

On the opposite side of town, past the church, and the school, and the water tower lived yet another family. Don Efren and Mellos. Mellos had 11 children, 10 still live today. Their family was rather big and Efren had to travel constantly to other towns for jobs. Months at a time. His absence would be the fire for a rumor that could of brought disaster.

Gossip has it Don Lencho was secretly in love with Mellos. And that by the creek they were seen many times, too late into the night. But while everything seemed like just gossip, it would be this same gossip that almost caused two of their kids to never give each other a chance.

Sofia was Efren and Mellos daughter. While Lencho Jr. was the son of Don Lencho and Maria. They were friends despite the rumors and the gossip and the fact that neither of their mothers could stand each other.

Sofia and Lencho never thought of each other for more than friends. They were each others comfort for years. When they’d suffer heartbreak they’d look for each other to complain about the issue. They went to parties together, danced together. Lencho’s best friend happened to be Sofia’s brother. Their paths crossed constantly but sparks never flew. Till one day after suffering much heartbreak Lencho decided to ask her to be his girlfriend. Her reaction was shock and she even told him he was crazy. But he wasn’t crazy and she was easily persuaded. You’d think love would come easy, that you just meet someone, know that they’re the one, and it works. But it doesn’t happen that way.

As their relationship progressed and it became serious - gossip filled the air. And they soon found out that to be with each other they would have to fight. See rumor was Sofia was the daughter of Don Lencho. (Lencho Jr’s dad). Fruit of the so alleged affair between their parents. That rumor would destroy their relationship. Neither family wanted them together, they tried everything possible to tear them apart. It seemed at the time that the whole town was against them. They lived with constant agony and since both families cared too much about what others thought. Sofia and Lencho sacrificed their love even when the rumors were complete lies.

Lencho left to a city far away and Sofia concentrated on working for her family. A year would pass. And though everything seemed finished… love never died. So a year later or so, when Lencho got off the city bus it didn’t come as a surprise to see a familiar face. It was Sofia who stood there waiting for him. They eloped and announced it to their families when it was too late for them to oppose.

They’ve been married for thirty years now, have 3 kids, and one grandchild. They still love each other just as much as the night when they got married. And its been that same fighting spirit that has gotten them through the good and the bad in this life.

I am happy to say I am one of their 3 kids. And from first hand can tell you that love does exist and it can prevail, but most of all that it is worth fighting for. I know all of that. Because it can be seen in the story of my parents.

There are many details to that story, there are many tears in between the lines. But there is also so much faith that love can conquer some of the most impossible situations. And that even the telenovela (soap opera) in our lives has a happy ending.

There’s many definitions to the word love. But when I think of love - I think of my parents. They have survived through the good and bad, through times that would test anybody’s faith. They’ve done it together. So many people take for granted love and marriage. But when I think of my parents, I think of a lifetime of stories written and a lifetime of stories yet to write.

See to me “Love is”… aren’t those comic strips you cut out of the newspaper.

Timeless

First published October 20 2006

It'll be a year tomorrow since my grandmother passed away... to me it feels like yesterday...

Only a few people can come into this world and leave a legacy. She was no Gandhi, no Mother Teresa, her area of expertise had nothing to do with politics or medicine and she didn't win a Nobel prize for her accomplishments. Her area of expertise yet had much to do with these things along with so many others. She was the Judge and Jury of her children, the Doctor for the scraped knees, the Chef for the busy household, and the building blocks of something great. And though she wasn't even a local hero and her name might not be recognized in a plaque, the fruit of her hard labor can be seen in the faces of so many... She was my grandmother, the mother of my mother, and the foundation of our family.


Some people remember their grandmother by one special moment, I remember everything about mine. Her love for "chuletas" (sirloin steak), her great sense of humor, and the way she always had a safety pin if u ever needed one. Her scent a mixture of Vicks vapor rub and honey suckle flowers. When I think of my grandmother I think of her laugh, how her eyes would light up beautifully, her laugh filling up the room.
One day sitting in the dining room as she finished her dinner, she looked up at me as I wrote in my diary and asked me what i was writing. I told her I just wanted to remember something - so I was writing it down so i wouldn't forget. Because it was true, I wanted to remember that moment. The dining room filled with so much warmth and love. These were the types of moments you never forget. As I looked up at her, I could only hope that one day I would get to be like her.


She was filled with so much laughter and so many stories untold. Stories she isn't around to tell any longer, but stories that have been written with love, held in our hearts. Even though she's not around anymore, there's one thing I know for sure... beside the wrinkles, the age spots that covered her "caramelo" colored skin, even behind the scent that lingered in the air after she left the room... there was her smile... that kept her beautiful... That keeps her on my mind. That keeps her....

Timeless...