The joy that never came (from the places she expected)

She sat there staring at the vapor emanating from her hot cup of coffee. In her hand were the badges she would sew on to her daughter's scout uniform. Her fingers worked with a life of their own as each stitch was placed, adding one more success to the sleeve. 

She thought about her own badges. What had she earned up until now?

She looked at her own shirt and there was no decoration proving that she knew what she knew. There was no medal giving testimony of having come out of all those situations successful. Only her memories knew. 

She looked up and stared at her reflection on the TV. A few wrinkles around the eyes, a few pounds around the waist. But mostly, her youthful looks were still there. The weight of her burdens made her feel old and tired. The sleepless nights and endless hours of worry and looking for solutions had left a mark embedded under her sad eyes. And yet, she was so young! 

She reminded herself to smile and made a shy attempt to bare her teeth. But the smile didn't reach her eyes. It had been a while since it came naturally. She was dazzling when she smiled. She thought of all the good things that were worth laughing and rejoicing about. Those were her hard-fought achievements. She learned to walk again, she learned to live, to forgive and heal and fight for the good things. She was a champion at being patient and standing her ground when all else seemed to be against her. She was a fighter although her hands had never been raised in anger or to hurt. 

She looked at her worn hands full of scars, her bitten nails. These hands were made for caressing, for giving and loving and holding tight, for creating beauty, for defending the weak, for mending the torn, she thought. And she stroked a long blonde lock of hair from her girl's dreamy face laying next to her thigh. Her little girl. Her greatest achievement. Her reason to get up and fight. Her greatest source of pride and joy.

And then she finally smiles and she has that glint in her eyes.

Life has not been too kind to her so she struggles to find joy in the little moments. She knows she will survive everything. She has strength in her soul even when her body betrays her. Especially then. Her healed scars are her badges and she carries them with pride.

If she had a badge to earn it would be for this: she has learned that true joy doesn't come from the places we expect. Some are just fleeting successes. Joy comes from the quiet moments when everything works as it should, the secret achievements, from overcoming fears, from winning battles and reaching new horizons. And the only way to get that joy is by hanging on to the little moments of every day that make life worth living.

My Dad-Mom

Yesterday was Father's Day back in Guatemala. 

As a child, I used to make slightly modified Father's Day presents so that my mom could have them because my dad was well... with his other family. I don't want to place him under a bad light or anything. My dad was just a very passionate person, passionate about life, about women and about his endeavors. He was also always very sick. (Sound familiar?)

I never got to have a relationship with him because he passed away shortly after my ninth birthday. Amazing, I was as old as my little Nora. And just like her dad, my dad was never around for me. I hate it that the story repeats itself because I realize as an adult woman that growing up without a dad is (like mom says) like growing up without a limb. Of course you get by, you live a normal life and all. But you are never complete and something is always going to be missing. And you are always going to envy somebody for having that which you don't have.

My dad was a great guy, or so I hear. People tell me stories about him, how wonderful he was and what he did for others. He used to light a room whenever he entered it and he would paint a smile on people's faces whenever he turned his attention towards them. He was awesome, and instead of feeling proud about these stories, I want to punch somebody in the nose, because I feel cheated of a great dad, a great guy. And I wish so much to have known him and spent time with him. The way our story went was that he left my mom pregnant with me. He built another family. He never really spent time with me ever. And I never felt like I was special enough or important enough for him (or any other man after). And it ruined my relationship with God as well because that was the image of a dad for me: a guy who knocks up women, leaves them, builds another family and leaves his helpless children behind when they most need him. But now it's too late to regret. Besides, most of these wounds have healed with a lot of time and therapy and prayer.

If I could say something to my dad today, it would be that I wish he had been that great guy he was to others, to me as well. I wish he had been there to dance with me at graduation and to give me away at my wedding. I wish he had come to Germany and held his grandchild after she was born. And I wish he had thought I was special enough as to visit me alone. And I wish that he had talked to me about boys because I could have used that advice, coming from a guy. Maybe I wouldn't have even needed the advice because I'd have had such a great example.

But now I can't really complain because I have always had a perfect, caring, heavenly Father. He loved me so much that he sent his most precious Son to die for me. He thought I was that important and special. And He has taken care of me through all my good and bad times and I know that my little one knows this Father well. This Father is intimately intertwined with all our activities and knows even our unsaid prayers. Just like mom. Sometimes I think God is a lot more like my mom: there through thick and thin and never holds back on telling me where I am messing up.

So Happy Father's Day, Dad. And Mom, thank you! You did your best to fill in for the father I never had.

Hey stupid, I like your hair today!

I have a big flaw. I see the good in people. And I enjoy it. And I don't keep it to myself. And this leads to a lot of confusion.

When I say things like "I love the way your shoes match your skirt", I don't want to brown-nose you. I don't want anything from you. I don't want you to pay me a compliment back (though I do enjoy it). I mean no innuendos. I don't say this to make you uncomfortable. I say it because I mean just that. Your shoes look nice. Period! 

 But you are right, some compliments can be taken differently depending on lots of factors. If I say something generic like "I like your hair today", you might think I'm saying your hair doesn't always look good. So rule number one in giving compliments is to be specific about what you like. Some thoughts on compliments should just be revised and corrected (IMHO).

Even the term "PAYING a compliment" is wrong because it means that you expect something in return for your payment. If you receive a compliment from me, just know that I see you. I noticed. I care. You are worth the attention. And I am giving you this little present for free!

It must also be one of those cultural difference things too. I feel comfortable approaching people and saying nice things. It's just the way I roll.  I love giving and receiving compliments. They make my day! They are like little verbal hugs that make you realize that somebody is paying attention. And I want to make your day when I say something nice to (or about) you. Now take it like the present it is, enjoy it, put it away and get on with your life! 

It's quite funny that people are more comfortable taking an insult than a compliment. If I say "Hey Stupid", you might reply with a playful smile on your face. But forget me saying "Hey beautiful/handsome". That is almost inappropriate. Why? 

Praying for the enemy

I had a long conversation with my mom-in-law today about my husband. I rarely hear from him, much less hear about his newest adventure. But there are times when I find out what he is up to and it makes me so sad I want to facepalm myself. It's amazing that a man with so much intelligence can get himself into such stupid problems. But we were once together and had a child together and that makes us family no matter what, no matter how far we are from each other physically, spiritually and emotionally. And I held the longest grudge against him, for many years, for many reasons. He was my enemy.

So imagine my surprise when I realized today that I was really hoping for him to be ok. My fingers all of a sudden were intertwined and I was praying fervently for my husband to find God. Imagine me praying for "the enemy" because he really needs God more than ever in his life. Imagine that there was nothing more on my mind other than hoping he is ok wherever he is, whatever he is doing. I forgive him. 

Please God, just let him find you, like I have found you, let him have a genuine encounter with You, let him fall in love with You!

And then imagine the joy of realizing that this bond that has united us  for so long was cut, without me even realizing it. I am free of hate, judgement, anger and hurt. And what bonds us now is that the Lord put in me to pray hard for him. What bonds us now is love.

Yes, this is the kind of supernatural healing that God promises. And I have no doubt that my husband will find God wherever he is.  I hope only that it happens sooner than later. But it's also in God's hands, within God's perfect plan.

What happened??

Well, it's almost that time: the famous 30th birthday is next week. YIKES! I have been dreading ending my 20's because I always hoped that by then, I would have my life figured out. I have been doing a lot of soul searching and realizing that I can do better in many ways. And although I know a lot about a lot of subjects, I am not good at absolutely anything (other than being Nora's mom). But some things I used to be really really good at. And now it seems like that is gone too, together with my youthful looks.

The guys and girls I hang around with are barely 20 and I see a lot of my old self in them. Man, I love and admire these guys! Most of all, that huge amount of potential and strength, the great achievements that people younger than myself have reached and yes, I feel a little jealous of their accomplishments. 

But the true question is what happened to me? When did I lose my shine? Why? Yes, I have been though a whole lot this past decade. But when did I stop singing at the top of my voice? I used to sing in the school choir and always aimed to sing louder than all of them. At church, I didn't care if I carried the tune or lost a note here and there. I was happy singing at the top of my lungs, even if I didn't know the lyrics. And I was very happy on a stage. I felt right at home! Now I can barely squeak alone in the shower, much less talk to a stranger I like and flirt!

So now you can imagine how I felt when a dear friend of mine asked me to sing for him, for a beat he is making, and I could barely bring out a little mumble. When did fear creep up on everything I used to like? I was scared of doing it wrong, missing the tone, what if I sang it wrong? I realized that I had lost my voice! When did this happen?

I was a model in my late teens. Now I hate posing for the camera because of my double chin and because I feel ugly. But when I'm all alone, I still see that pretty girl I used to be in the mirror. She waves back from time to time, reminding me that she is still in there, deep inside. And growing older doesn't mean that I have to continue losing my beauty. It's still in there, under all the fear and the blunt edge I got from all the bad experiences.

I want to bring sexy back. I want the old me to shine through because I am just as wonderful as the guys and girls who have become my friends and honestly, I have just as much potential. Stay tuned because this girl is growing a year (or a few years) younger next week! And I plan on singing at the top of my lungs again!

Girl, get over yourself!

Have you ever analyzed your life and come to the conclusion that you would really like to do something but you never came around to it because your attitude got in the way?

Last year I challenged myself to do all the things I would not normally do. Nora and I went to an amusement park, got on all the rides, and even rode them twice if we thought they were extra scary. Then I made my best effort not to have a heart attack while hanging from very high ropes at a climbing park. 

Like I said, very frigging high!

We went to fairs and rode the highest and fastest rides too. Then we ate things we wouldn't normally eat, like Vietnamese and Thai, candied apples and other food. It was a real blast overcoming all those fears. And I gained a lot of self-respect because I nailed that. Woohoo me!!

For this year, the goal was to stop being so incredibly shy when it came to talking to people about myself. Hence the blog. I also got on a stage in front of the whole church and told part of my life story. That was horrifying! Although I have modeled almost bare naked and been on a stage several times before, I have never been so petrified before. Not even on the aforementioned ropes at the climbing park. I wasn't scared about the lights, the people or stuttering, but about opening up and showing the intimate me. What if nobody likes what they see?

If opening up has been a challenge, the real big one has been to reach out to other people. I realized that I have very few friends and although that is normal, I want to overcome the fear of opening up and letting others in and exchanging feelings and intimate thoughts. I have always dreamed of having lots of friends who like me. I want to finally make my childhood dream come true of having a really big party with lots of guests who know me and love me for who and what I am. I guess it's every (ex)reject's dream come true, right?

I have a crush on someone right now and whenever he even looks my way, whenever he comes near me, I stutter, forget the language and my name and trip over myself. At my age, I thought that would be over and I had the confidence in myself to at least exchange a few awkward sentences. But no, my extreme shyness and the nagging thought of "maybe he thinks I'm ugly" ruins it for me every time. So I'm gonna do it. I am going to talk to him this week.

Having seen that health and life are so fragile, I have sought to make every day memorable and special in its own way. Pushing myself to the limits and seeing that they are a lot farther than I imagined has opened up a world of possibilities and I really encourage you to try it. Some might be little things like touching a spider, eating something foreign to you or getting on a fast ride at the fair; or big things like talking to that someone who makes you stutter. But it's a step towards showing yourself your true potential. My advice: don't miss out on life because your fear gets in the way. You'll never know if you like it unless you try it.

Mosaic

One thing I know for sure is that life is not a straight line. We have bumpy, black, grey, white, yellow, red, blue and everything-in-between periods. Some times are smooth going, some are rough. Life is the collection of all those moments and what you do with them is very much up to you.  In the end, the more interesting the colors and patterns, the more beautiful the composition will be.

I have been ranting and raving about the rough patch I have had for the past few months. But I kinda got stuck in just one little part of the grand picture. And I forgot to mention that I've had really cool days in between too. 

I've learned to share my little pieces with others and have received little pieces of them to add to my mosaic called life. And you see, this is really what it's all about. We are all different. Life is not about following a straight single-colored pattern. It never was. But I planted these ideas into my head and was so dismayed that at the age of (in three weeks, gasp!!) THIRTY, I had nothing to show on paper, like other people I know. I had plans but life happened and things just got in the way. But man, what an awesome ride it has been up to this point! I can't compare my life experiences to anybody else's. Like an abstract picture, my beauty lies in not being standard, regular and normal but in being me and doing what I do best: to flourish among the ever-changing tides. Every time the gameplan has changed, I have risen to the occasion and succeeded by being malleable. 

The biggest challenge for me has always been that I am different though. I was not like my family so I left. I was not like anybody I knew in school so I was a reject. I was never like one of the locals because I was always the foreigner. And I wasted so much valuable time and energy trying so hard to fit in and be them. But I was meant to stand out for something: I can adjust to change. Of all the people I know, nobody has had so many rough times and come out of them victorious. That is me. I can smile no matter how awful it gets. Because I can see the positive side of almost any occasion, I can still laugh in the face of hardship.  That makes me really special (in my very humble opinion, that is). And that has taken me places I would've never imagined. I have gone left, then right, then up and down again and back. And that is exactly how it should be. My life is going to be a really awesome mosaic when I'm finished here! And I thank all of the people who have touched my life for sharing with me their colorfulness along the way.

I am a truly blessed work of art!