tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-84339234043656291012024-03-28T20:29:48.238-07:00In My ShoesIn My Shoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468345499538506840noreply@blogger.comBlogger834125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433923404365629101.post-72379322167010013732023-09-29T10:26:00.002-07:002023-09-29T10:26:34.816-07:00Tell Me Something Good<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4sw_eOwrr0reRJFMkVJTTbkw7dxrqBlNAb8CEwD2Sx_1ocjFD_Icr5Zdaand7nqckcJDBxXZRzthxo-H2IBtkXdngqbJbK14ea809R1gdzGpGoewvc_e75mccGoVYb1kGMzTIeehCTu4-lF74aHA10M56BWOqfa1hsUFrvLPmR5NXrONo0dBQLzEtScPo/s640/yn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4sw_eOwrr0reRJFMkVJTTbkw7dxrqBlNAb8CEwD2Sx_1ocjFD_Icr5Zdaand7nqckcJDBxXZRzthxo-H2IBtkXdngqbJbK14ea809R1gdzGpGoewvc_e75mccGoVYb1kGMzTIeehCTu4-lF74aHA10M56BWOqfa1hsUFrvLPmR5NXrONo0dBQLzEtScPo/w640-h480/yn.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Tell me something good, is a strategy that our principal
uses every few months to get the staff talking.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">My something good has been joining a water aerobics
class.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Fun fact, I don’t know how to swim!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">I had been looking for a fun way to increase my activity and
then I remembered that a lady in the dog group that I used to meet-up when I
had Dollar told me about taking classes at the community pool.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I do love the water so I decided to give it a
try.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hoped that swimming wasn’t a
requirement for taking the exercise class and I signed up.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">The first night of class (they start a 7PM), I was anxious
about several things. One, leaving my house after being secluded since before
Covid isolation. Seems like I had developed a mild case of agoraphobia. Two, I was
afraid of the new experience: Would I be able to keep up with the rest of the
class? Would my classmates be nice? Would I drown? <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">As the first class began, I soon was enjoying myself. I do love
the water.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even though I wasn’t properly
dressed. I wore the wrong type of bathing suit and no water shoes. Since, I
have learned that water shoes help with balancing yourself in the water in
addition to adding sole support. I have also learned that not all bathing suits
are equal, you need a one piece that is modest and keeps all your bits covered during
all the movements. Most recently, I have invested on a swim parka- a must to
keep you warm and dry as you get out of the pool and drive home.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">The first class was a giant comedy of errors as everything
that could go wrong did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On a positive note,
I did bring a lot of laughs to the regulars as I kept drowning and having issues
with my erroneously chosen wardrobe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Yet, I didn’t let my mistakes keep me from eventually getting the hang
of the fun sport. Going into my fourth week, I think that I have discovered my workout
routine. I look forward to getting in the water after a stressful day at work,
away from screens and from life’s demands. It’s my “me time” which is becoming
as special as my weekend coffee mornings in my naturally beautiful backyard.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">The class is 99 percent female, there’s only one man in the
class which I like.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There’s only me and
another girl that are the young blood, the rest are silver mavens. Most of them
are regulars too, so they have been taking the class for awhile and they are
super encouraging.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am a little
skeptical about doing this in the winter months, but the ladies tell me that I
will be ok. “It’s the getting in and out of the pool that will be hard,” they
all chime in. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: large;">For many taking a class is no big whoopie, but for me it’s a
huge pat on my back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most of my life I
struggled doing new things because my anxiety and fear of the unknown was so
great.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thus, when I do things that are
absolutely new to me and I venture out on my own - I truly amaze myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My chest puffs with pride and my self-confidence
increases. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span> <o:p></o:p></p>In My Shoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468345499538506840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433923404365629101.post-364272492640750122023-08-18T12:15:00.002-07:002023-08-18T12:26:00.487-07:00The Last Few Months...<p class="MsoNormal"><img height="640" src="https://drive.google.com/uc?id=1a1hoDlqBPJn11rGPbIFG-IHo3Kzu9jR-" width="640" /><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">At the end of the last school year in early mid-May one of my
students died of an accidental drug overdose.
She was discharged from a drug rehab center a few weeks early to be able
to participate in our school’s graduation activities and ceremony. The last time I saw her was at Disney for
Grad Nite, she brought donuts for all the students that attended the event. She looked good but, I could still see some
level of fatigue perhaps sadness in her countenance. That night was full of activity and I never
had a moment to hug her to welcome her back, but I thought I will have graduation
to celebrate her and to give that embrace…<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">After Grad Nite, I was assigned to chaperone a student trip
to our school’s Colorado Ranch for two weeks.
On the morning that I was leaving my brother almost died from a drug
overdose. Luckily, my mom went into his
room to wake him up when she noticed that he wasn’t getting up for work. We found
him still breathing, but we couldn’t wake him up. I called the ambulance and the paramedics
came, pumped his stomach and told us it was an opiate overdose and took him to
the hospital still in serious condition… I didn’t know whether to get on the
flight with my students or hop on the ambulance with my brother. My parents
encouraged me to go on the trip, and I was so angry with my brother because he
had been hospitalized twice in this last year and he still couldn’t stay clean.
I was tired of playing the hero, of rescuing him and I wanted him to know when
he woke up that I was done. The first
week of the trip was extremely hard because they kept him in the hospital because
they couldn’t control his blood pressure and then he got a blood infection. I would call home once a day when I got my two-hour
break from my students to check up on him and every day things didn’t get
better.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">During the first week of the trip while I was trying to hold
it together with all the chaos happening at home, we had a student who bullied,
hit and made threats about shooting all his classmates. So, a male chaperone
had to leave to take this student back home to California. That was my breaking point, in my mind as
soon as the male chaperone was back, I was going to request to be sent home to
be with my family. Yet, that day things
improved with my brother and he was given a release date. So, I pulled myself together and completed
the chaperone gig. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Upon my return to work, after the Colorado Trip, I was given
the news that my student had died. At that moment everything in me collapsed.
We were able to bring my brother home from the hospital, he was given another opportunity
to get healthy. However, for my student’s
parents and sibling – they were not able to revive their daughter, to wake her
up from a fentanyl lace pill she took to calm her anxiety. The similarities were
just too much and I collapsed in grief, in pain over what drugs do to families,
to parents, to siblings! I cried for her, for my brother and for me. I went
into this dark depression and I just couldn’t see hope. After learning about my student’s death, I
had to get ready to have Senior Day and celebrate with all my graduates. So, I
had to compose myself. Then a few days later I had to attend our graduation
ceremony and not give a hug to my kid. I couldn’t even acknowledge she was dead
because our principal didn’t allow me to do anything in memory of her as the
principal thought any remembrance would ruin graduation for the rest of the
students. I was in mourning and not allowed to mourn. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">This week a new student I just got came to school inebriated.
I had to call the ambulance as she got so sick that she was foaming at the
mouth and I thought she was going to die. Luckily, when the paramedics made it
to the school, they told me that my student was just extremely drunk. They ended up taking her and hopefully she
will get the help she needs…<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Some days I feel so burned out. Other days I feel like I can’t
get away from drugs poisoning those I love. I spoke at lengths with the priest
on the cruise about all of this and I liked something he said when he prayed
over me. He thanked God for using my brokenness, my scars to reach the hurt
souls I work with and those in my own family I care for. Pain when consumed
alone is devastatingly tragic, but when redeemed by God it can be utilize for good. It can then transform the world. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">This week my student who became my pen pal for six months at
the juvenile detention center came back to school. I have him as my student again
and there’s celebration in that. </span> </p>In My Shoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468345499538506840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433923404365629101.post-37213331612699505402023-07-21T09:28:00.012-07:002023-07-21T14:44:53.743-07:00Catholic Cruising Again<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjApx4R4vKVtsYfnCwi9dUtW3tNxGpmUSIa_PEsjdFMw19GP7PmDhgSdDSe9HLZ7brYXAsctuKNKgkSFb8od_34HpQpH9A-x07FkV6jSKO3yN-EAZKKVAcTmtRhAW7AEt43P2KFhGzM5nlcCiLkhLv1M2Ker6Qww6Dou70tekBShvy7fcfeMFjmKqEJtU1l/s4030/Alaska1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2387" data-original-width="4030" height="380" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjApx4R4vKVtsYfnCwi9dUtW3tNxGpmUSIa_PEsjdFMw19GP7PmDhgSdDSe9HLZ7brYXAsctuKNKgkSFb8od_34HpQpH9A-x07FkV6jSKO3yN-EAZKKVAcTmtRhAW7AEt43P2KFhGzM5nlcCiLkhLv1M2Ker6Qww6Dou70tekBShvy7fcfeMFjmKqEJtU1l/w640-h380/Alaska1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">I just returned from a cruise to Alaska… A close friend told me that she had met a gal
who was organizing her first Catholic Singles Cruise and I always wanted to see
Alaska so I told her that I would join the group. From my initial involvement in the trip, I
didn’t think much about it being a singles thing, I thought more as continuing
my love of travel in the security of a group.
Though, the thought of the sacraments being available on the daily did
warm my heart! While this cruise wasn’t as spiritual as the cruises that I have been on with Father Morrow (where there's daily Mass, Adoration, Rosary, Spiritual Direction, Reconciliation) I still returned full of blessings.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfH632nrlpY9FhPOGdN0V6PYF8yOF3wMT_n3_Y9KWeFQRKZrobDRT47csVlJN4OCL1v5ZRPXN7bPAdDvbsn59pUQSekck1Z2CTLKibV5bDQE0r-SXw-wkMvAZAkOudP2RtKGdVewWmLtLZuY8BLWwWZscyEiER0AxU2ZYNRl6nmNBfSr9KrMOy_eofgqPC/s4032/Alaska4.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfH632nrlpY9FhPOGdN0V6PYF8yOF3wMT_n3_Y9KWeFQRKZrobDRT47csVlJN4OCL1v5ZRPXN7bPAdDvbsn59pUQSekck1Z2CTLKibV5bDQE0r-SXw-wkMvAZAkOudP2RtKGdVewWmLtLZuY8BLWwWZscyEiER0AxU2ZYNRl6nmNBfSr9KrMOy_eofgqPC/w480-h640/Alaska4.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Now, I don’t know if it’s in God’s plan for me to meet a
husband while traveling, but I do know that every time I join one of these
cruises I always meet such great friends! I was able to get close with a couple
single ladies, who like me are living out our single vocations true to our
Catholic faith.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was able to share some
of the things that I am struggling with in my walk with the Lord, some of my
recent trials and tribulations and just what life is like living as a single
woman no longer in the prime of my youth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I am at that age where I am aging out of the young adult events and
entering a group of Catholics that is not super represented in our Church. That
single Catholics group that are not old, but not so young either (smile). <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaMpllsy2H9KLcxscOJo729t4usXpQoZfj8Rf85vUzSrnkM976mRykzv42A8eUPW7fL1bWQr7ZO9-mAXxgSo8XtHMKjYFbX52ZpaX73aMrx6aOD26ZKNw3zyUIgU2ND8o3zXEQ_Cohjv0f0qPfR4Ux1rLq6ygKcQMeEl_GtGDiDFyqeCcsWeOHeezEWFPW/s1727/Alaska.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1727" data-original-width="1198" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaMpllsy2H9KLcxscOJo729t4usXpQoZfj8Rf85vUzSrnkM976mRykzv42A8eUPW7fL1bWQr7ZO9-mAXxgSo8XtHMKjYFbX52ZpaX73aMrx6aOD26ZKNw3zyUIgU2ND8o3zXEQ_Cohjv0f0qPfR4Ux1rLq6ygKcQMeEl_GtGDiDFyqeCcsWeOHeezEWFPW/w444-h640/Alaska.jpg" width="444" /></a></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Yet, as a Father Leo said on the first day of Mass on the
ship, “you are on a cruise, no one can feel sad.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God, has blessed me with the ability to
travel and just the fact that I am able to visit all these new-to-me places is
enough benediction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yet, God never disappoints
in providing people for me to share the experience with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though the isolation of COVID has been over
for sometime now, the effects of it for me are still so present.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I haven’t been able to get myself back connected
with a spiritual community. Other than Mass, I have no connection to other Catholics.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As an introvert, COVID made me a bit of a
recluse and now thinking of joining groups seems like so much effort.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yet, this cruise made me realize how much I
am missing because God didn’t create us to be alone, He created us for
relationship.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZZ3Q6bT1uYwRp88_5PtV8w-qRp4fw7FpQ7KhlKrG5INsFQVM82-ASYSj08mmPpSi7_fl1w-R4RYEtxVxWSq12G86vU8jzMhKxiq6U7pUT3AsXn_8K5cK4NeQaRDfaLUwL5piUB6Zt40nMk7bw8ht6TJDXvo6ytAub-AQuyyoF7EQYp_m4X81Pw4suNH7N/s4032/Alaska3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZZ3Q6bT1uYwRp88_5PtV8w-qRp4fw7FpQ7KhlKrG5INsFQVM82-ASYSj08mmPpSi7_fl1w-R4RYEtxVxWSq12G86vU8jzMhKxiq6U7pUT3AsXn_8K5cK4NeQaRDfaLUwL5piUB6Zt40nMk7bw8ht6TJDXvo6ytAub-AQuyyoF7EQYp_m4X81Pw4suNH7N/w640-h480/Alaska3.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">I loved being around other Catholics and having
conversations that dug deep beyond the superficial.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I enjoyed going to fancy dinners with a
couple of ladies and finding comfort in their beliefs which matched mine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s always so therapeutically to find people
that validate our faith journey, that understand the sacrifice of living a
Catholic life in these modern times.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>People you don’t have to explain why you are the caretaker of your family
and why you don’t give up on the lost sheep… On this trip, it was also extremely
inspiring to share our single journey and though we are content, professional
women we do hope to find a partner in crime to join and share our happy lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was edifying to share a meal, a drink,
even a dance or two…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7Du-ESoFJ8sdSiry-h9f7Ww2XKrcpr50yUKlnApvJIzEcGdPcltqSVwYogyVKIIp28xCQK8IQ9QaYcOL9ljitiHxe8yQyuAAPbs__HqP39-GJzZuFtdAClo-agG1tszUQXKbu-lr3f9gtX9zahfxCRdqxtl8oZKbZtjdXIX3KTKFkm01D2FB831WMYQCR/s3305/Alaska2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3305" data-original-width="2174" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7Du-ESoFJ8sdSiry-h9f7Ww2XKrcpr50yUKlnApvJIzEcGdPcltqSVwYogyVKIIp28xCQK8IQ9QaYcOL9ljitiHxe8yQyuAAPbs__HqP39-GJzZuFtdAClo-agG1tszUQXKbu-lr3f9gtX9zahfxCRdqxtl8oZKbZtjdXIX3KTKFkm01D2FB831WMYQCR/w420-h640/Alaska2.jpg" width="420" /></a></span></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">It was also nice to look at myself, ten years later (after
my first <a href="https://modestadventures.blogspot.com/2013/09/what-happened-in-january.html">cruise</a>) and see a mature Catholic reflection. I also spent a lot of time on my own, exploring Alaska joining the typical excursions. During these times outside in mostly coastal rainforest I was able to connect with God through nature. Everyday, I was inundated by God's beauty, the majesty of His creation and it was humbling to realize that this is my life! That I get to explore His pristine creation and when I am surrounded by such vast, natural beauty it's so easy to see God, to be in His presence - in complete awe. There were moments where I stopped myself from crying because after recently living some of the most difficult months of my life, I found peace. Whether in the Tongass, gardens, Glacier Bay or on an Alaskan Huskies Sled Ride - I knew that God was with me, and when God is with me, who can be against me? The Lord is by my side and I will not be afraid! </span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhybC8FTqGsMhCW6oFXGoPxIVX24uqKOA42mY1Kz79JgQGYUhk3Ay1GQWOKanzjqblDuF1mSH-zSlu7DIBjX0eyKcAUI-_FyKytvkEw8ewQ6soh5rMhuVsK-1_Fwc_KknGgwuLLX0kg0alPmczc3HR0ww0jJZo27VurTgq4nMzi_2ok7IUf4c0uLNf6axp/s4032/Alaska5.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhybC8FTqGsMhCW6oFXGoPxIVX24uqKOA42mY1Kz79JgQGYUhk3Ay1GQWOKanzjqblDuF1mSH-zSlu7DIBjX0eyKcAUI-_FyKytvkEw8ewQ6soh5rMhuVsK-1_Fwc_KknGgwuLLX0kg0alPmczc3HR0ww0jJZo27VurTgq4nMzi_2ok7IUf4c0uLNf6axp/w640-h480/Alaska5.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I'll try to write at least once a month.</div><p></p>In My Shoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468345499538506840noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433923404365629101.post-32704309445415420102023-01-27T11:11:00.004-08:002023-01-27T14:00:38.046-08:00Have A Little Faith<p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">I have been seeing friends a little more often and the same
conversation we have been having is that many of us are still homebodies and
are having a difficult time adjusting to life after COVID. Our social activity doesn’t match many of our
peers who seem to be out and about all the time.
What I did manage to attend at the end of the year was the annual Christmas
YCP Party. One of my close friends motivated
me to go and I think God wanted me there!
The family that usually opens their home for our party had a tragedy a
few weeks before our celebration, they lost their son in a tragic
accident. Yet, instead of cancelling the
event the couple decided that they more than ever wanted their home full of young
people and for attendees to share stories of their son.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAFa6IKv43aUu0hiVRMQG3hPRgoXCzO9Wj6oL1BfrAe2U3e9sFHcpL1125HctPxlL9AZ_YNLI_eiglFn3ob62qifpad2ZStWpQ_DA02C8WoAZ-7zpjVqlQtNhnJDLPvPUaIKiS0A1pV92u20GMRGmVqxFg1Rj52QUi_FxOS_-uG1-4UOl5mgPXJLC7LA/s3713/bb.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3713" data-original-width="2628" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAFa6IKv43aUu0hiVRMQG3hPRgoXCzO9Wj6oL1BfrAe2U3e9sFHcpL1125HctPxlL9AZ_YNLI_eiglFn3ob62qifpad2ZStWpQ_DA02C8WoAZ-7zpjVqlQtNhnJDLPvPUaIKiS0A1pV92u20GMRGmVqxFg1Rj52QUi_FxOS_-uG1-4UOl5mgPXJLC7LA/w452-h640/bb.jpg" width="452" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">After an hour of socializing it is customary for the hosts
to stop the party to bless the food and also to give a short speech to motivate
attendees to join YCP. –<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">The end of the year was quite challenging for me and my
family and as the holidays approached my usual Christmas spirit was
lacking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am usually the one who decorates
the house, who puts up the lights, the nativities and the tree.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yet, this year I only managed to decorate the
outside of the house with lights and only because Dad did most of the work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Due to a family crisis, I had to seek therapy
and increase my medication because for the first time in over fifteen years my
anxiety was thru the roof and I think I had a bit of depression too. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQnkKQ2KKZueGgiQ6XdJLNbvJnPiyez0Ulj69_V95WuTLoyE0wM0jl-VKNB3SWqZYg5LS4n8Y8yLLyXKrpu9WomugFVqQ4EtTGLblCmNjyybBf8S5-gZSN3FXgwviv0PiYm_IKBEx-m0A8SvBf9FlSPTR9tyjg9MUcZrOf0ntfgmn204PWC2RtaFHkbA/s4032/df.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQnkKQ2KKZueGgiQ6XdJLNbvJnPiyez0Ulj69_V95WuTLoyE0wM0jl-VKNB3SWqZYg5LS4n8Y8yLLyXKrpu9WomugFVqQ4EtTGLblCmNjyybBf8S5-gZSN3FXgwviv0PiYm_IKBEx-m0A8SvBf9FlSPTR9tyjg9MUcZrOf0ntfgmn204PWC2RtaFHkbA/w640-h480/df.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">So, when the party came around I wasn’t in the mood for it,
but I pushed myself. During the speech, the hosts spoke of their recent loss,
they spoke of their son and what he meant to them and how looking at all the
young people gathered who he had mingled with gave them joy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They asked us to seek them and share moments
we shared with their son, but what most impressed me was that even through such
an unforeseen loss the husband and wife spoke of their hope in God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I looked at them, clearly brokenhearted and
still praising God and finding so much comfort in their Catholic faith.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their hope was contagious and I thought of my
own crisis and I finally saw God’s hope.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHnYwvsDDSk570HBkCcfpUOnRD3KgfQF-eKMS9JGvINVEznieNKQCk3zGj-_ag7DlY6U3WCttKmveS0n_9xRG-gQ0D4-wIdTZvDcPNB6k7MbupD6RC6sbdfRqg6spvNwm9iGpJJwuNC5f6RO3qhR1BtFY7Azi15_qNGTifTdLc2ECCbrcfZkMREmfUng/s3803/me.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3803" data-original-width="3022" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHnYwvsDDSk570HBkCcfpUOnRD3KgfQF-eKMS9JGvINVEznieNKQCk3zGj-_ag7DlY6U3WCttKmveS0n_9xRG-gQ0D4-wIdTZvDcPNB6k7MbupD6RC6sbdfRqg6spvNwm9iGpJJwuNC5f6RO3qhR1BtFY7Azi15_qNGTifTdLc2ECCbrcfZkMREmfUng/w508-h640/me.jpg" width="508" /></a></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">I didn’t go home and decorate my entire house- but I
realized that in my anxious despair I became blinded to the reason for the
season.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The incarnation of that babe
that came to save us all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt momentary
guilt for focusing on things that added to the darkness of my soul instead of
finding contentment in God becoming man and the implications of that
action.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I needed people who were hurting
more than me to remind me to never loose hope. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I drove home that night, light, knowing that
with time the challenges I was facing were going to pass.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While, it was still the first year that no
inside decorations were on display – it was the first year that we visited
extended family to lean on them and being one big family was better than all
the decorations in the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Moral of the
story; “one, there are always people hurting more than me and still find hope;
two, community/family helps a ton!” </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjINWBPjB_2nsTbAipiD9TP5BShlc8tEbC12qjNEhd9lm8qSN7oG7i__bU6smgJWHRO-qU9Gl4trzYxnPvVB6owA-pcoN6izm574Y5_4HTqVZvTtGx04bi83UpVSmvqiIMq-VMu31tjDn0XLjOAxBe4HGrVL5w3fAaLsmPoRaDVFR9EzdkhyqjbX4JubA/s4032/vb.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjINWBPjB_2nsTbAipiD9TP5BShlc8tEbC12qjNEhd9lm8qSN7oG7i__bU6smgJWHRO-qU9Gl4trzYxnPvVB6owA-pcoN6izm574Y5_4HTqVZvTtGx04bi83UpVSmvqiIMq-VMu31tjDn0XLjOAxBe4HGrVL5w3fAaLsmPoRaDVFR9EzdkhyqjbX4JubA/w640-h480/vb.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p>In My Shoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468345499538506840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433923404365629101.post-6922061425754089022022-11-11T09:29:00.004-08:002022-11-11T13:14:48.806-08:00“Whatever is received into something is received according to the condition of the recipient.”<p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Saint Thomas Aquinas said, “Whatever is received into
something is received according to the condition of the recipient.”</span><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">God is always generous in His giving, but we
limit His generosity when we are unwilling or unfit to receive Him.</span><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">I am coming out of a crisis of faith.</span><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">That’s why I wrote the previous post, because
though my latest pilgrimage reignited the embers that so needed to be relit- it
also mimicked what I have been internally experiencing.</span><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">Martha, our skeptic guide personified what I
had been feeling lately and through her challenges about what was real and not-
I realized that I myself had been doing that with God through mandated isolation
and even after the pandemic restrictions were lifted.</span><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">I got comfortable being away from my religious
community, away from Mass, away from God…</span><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJcOXmvpKOGkjpdwtoC_ufVcefakO52pF9YfMQFRhkws52O0rWZleCx30SIkHZMkyNc2SWAoEtgmBKvaLvIAh6fMjMFX7vokOM-GBXp9Biwme4mZuURTLJYploKyOGHZneHEYnX1M57drK8uwjX2qNPYYkw3n0iRm6axwAMYsd5LmWCcBUI8gmtWPZ-w/s4032/34BAAAC6-2CBF-44D3-A6D2-433BD435E717.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJcOXmvpKOGkjpdwtoC_ufVcefakO52pF9YfMQFRhkws52O0rWZleCx30SIkHZMkyNc2SWAoEtgmBKvaLvIAh6fMjMFX7vokOM-GBXp9Biwme4mZuURTLJYploKyOGHZneHEYnX1M57drK8uwjX2qNPYYkw3n0iRm6axwAMYsd5LmWCcBUI8gmtWPZ-w/w480-h640/34BAAAC6-2CBF-44D3-A6D2-433BD435E717.jpeg" width="480" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">In Loreto, there wasn’t enough room at the hotel we had
reservations to accommodate our group and five of us including myself had to be
driven to a nearby location to sleep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That night, I was exhausted and was planning on skipping dinner to go to
my room and sleep and it wasn’t until after everyone had left to their rooms
that the leftover five were told that after dinner we would be driven to a nearby
hotel for the night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was super
frustrated to receive this news like a bucket of water and because we had to
wait in the lobby for an hour before dinner and I was the only on that wanted
to skip on dinner. So, I had to brave it three more hours before I could be
taken to my room for rest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we made
to the hotel, I realized that it was a retreat house and not a hotel. My room
was very humble, but there was a painting above my bed of Mary and Child and
that gave me confidence that I would have a good night sleep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t until morning when we were to be
taken back to join our group that we noticed that we had slept right outside
the church where the walls of Mother Mary’s house are kept.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I guess Mamita wanted to have me near during
the night!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0clICbNTxT8es8f_hTqkHeK5RB_ySh0H2e1-u8fH4WGZrbYWjS_e9GoJkuAOXlt8bOZbVgbuvcasXpokQJxV0WFXUMZvu0Vl1U0xwI7Y6PAH1AtvK1F5XKhMJ23Im8JsUWBm8vUnpV4ULUCuecyjA5Z_x9uGW1iXXsbCnl3_S_USk3ccrkLinR_7f3Q/s4032/8BE22E2D-0291-45A2-B5C2-84F5CF03A683.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0clICbNTxT8es8f_hTqkHeK5RB_ySh0H2e1-u8fH4WGZrbYWjS_e9GoJkuAOXlt8bOZbVgbuvcasXpokQJxV0WFXUMZvu0Vl1U0xwI7Y6PAH1AtvK1F5XKhMJ23Im8JsUWBm8vUnpV4ULUCuecyjA5Z_x9uGW1iXXsbCnl3_S_USk3ccrkLinR_7f3Q/w480-h640/8BE22E2D-0291-45A2-B5C2-84F5CF03A683.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Later that morning, when we all boarded the tour bus, the
driver missed a metal rod that stuck out and I was awaken by the glass of my
window cracking. I was terrified, but quickly noticed that only the outside glass
had cracked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After analyzing the damage,
the driver thought it safe to continue on our way, but as we started to drive
pieces of the glass started breaking, I was terrified that the weight of the
shatter glass was going to break the inner glass. However, the bus driver was
able to pull over in time, remove all the cracked glass and we continued on our
way safe with the inner window still intact.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It wasn’t an hour later that I heard a scream and the noticed that one
of the passengers had fallen out of his seat asleep and his wife shrieked
trying to keep him from hitting the ground. After assessing the situation, we
laughed, but I was a little on edge from all the unexpected happenings.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><span>I dwelled a little too long on all the things going wrong
with the trip, that I felt like an unwilling recipient to all of what God
wanted to give me. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yet, God is good all
the time, because now after a few weeks back I feel so many graces that I am receiving
as I look back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span></span><o:p></o:p></p>In My Shoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468345499538506840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433923404365629101.post-35738479869429342012022-11-03T14:43:00.007-07:002022-11-03T14:43:48.952-07:00Our Rome Tour Guide<p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">So, there I was touring some of the most beautiful places in
Rome with religious significance and I had a skeptic as a tour guide, Martha. Just right outside the Sancta Sanctorum trying
to decide if I would be able to climb up the twenty-eight stairs on my knees,
Martha ends her tour bit with, “The wood of the stairs was tested and only
dated to the fourth century so these steps are probably not really the stairs that
Jesus climbed on his way to his trial, but does that change your faith probably
not.”</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-fIRUCYbNScse3Zvtqk6xRC2pGTJIutFXiBo2Td9j-OQHk6IB4lj3Z8majtGNhDpef6mavRTkfx6zrKrs4XH1MoD1kRzwTHDF1pGH-c28OlChtFAeLkJregUhh1eieo3Vn1HgXgLFfIunNFtGDi3R9pUvMkEGNeeDyv52RxuFGLownZJo--9mdfXGSw/s4032/D6B63012-48AB-4DB5-8480-6402719FE8F1.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-fIRUCYbNScse3Zvtqk6xRC2pGTJIutFXiBo2Td9j-OQHk6IB4lj3Z8majtGNhDpef6mavRTkfx6zrKrs4XH1MoD1kRzwTHDF1pGH-c28OlChtFAeLkJregUhh1eieo3Vn1HgXgLFfIunNFtGDi3R9pUvMkEGNeeDyv52RxuFGLownZJo--9mdfXGSw/w640-h480/D6B63012-48AB-4DB5-8480-6402719FE8F1.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Just a few minutes earlier at the Cathedral of Saint John
the Lateran on our way out, Martha pointed to the relics of the Last Supper Table
and offered her first bit of doubt, “During the times of Jesus, tables weren’t
used so this is probably not the real table, but does that change your faith of
course not.” Then she led us out as if her words weren’t a big deal and moved
to another painting and while she shared what she knew about the art piece, I thought
this lady is not good at reading her audience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>At the archbasilica where the heads of Saint Peter and Saint Paul are
said to be found, again Martha said, “no one has ever opened them to know if it’s
truly who they say they are.” <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH4eQt0WsslUym0bzHBc_zW2nc8rJhvp3lDQQZ2o_3dHObnGBDJm_bnfY9xih8j6QK0JG2MuS1OfUu-vSN0iR8HqSvvbUzNZ7FghtoGW4kGYrGEvfTRsG8H23bcqKE4Xx-nV7Uhm4hMiSACwaalRVj9s4-y7MQ8CO-OOkDXQS9e0-z77kz_u1pF-Wy_g/s4032/C3840D54-F753-491F-9D2C-98C40EBC497B.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH4eQt0WsslUym0bzHBc_zW2nc8rJhvp3lDQQZ2o_3dHObnGBDJm_bnfY9xih8j6QK0JG2MuS1OfUu-vSN0iR8HqSvvbUzNZ7FghtoGW4kGYrGEvfTRsG8H23bcqKE4Xx-nV7Uhm4hMiSACwaalRVj9s4-y7MQ8CO-OOkDXQS9e0-z77kz_u1pF-Wy_g/w480-h640/C3840D54-F753-491F-9D2C-98C40EBC497B.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">By the time we had reached the Basilica of Santa Maria
Maggiore, I made a comment to Father, “I think we have a skeptic as a tour
guide – she keeps saying that none of the relics are the real thing.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then she made a huge error when she said that
the mosaic of Jesus crowing his Mother represented Mary as Jesus’ wife that
Father finally had to address not only her Marian theology, but the information
she was sharing with us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He politely
gave her a mini Mariology lesson and also challenged her on the furniture that
was around during Jesus’ time by quoting the many times the word table is used
in scripture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From my own studies I know
that tables looked a bit different (lower) during that period so maybe that’s
where her confusion stemmed.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyESaZehRe35yRLqiZTR8eOzAoaYC35v653GoVF9m6bFBFoVy5f3QdFkP8mSqxqh1GbexjACP6kXUsP15OS9It1LkQUPsOIkQ80kjztn2UhHLanTwY3OVpd5ar-9eZRuKMN-lS_gnH9Kyaz8b510L6EUAL3roTh6VoDWEsESs3s6uDZHeBMkswMEo-yw/s3568/9DE655CC-E976-4C98-B03C-FA55B3FB085E.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="3568" height="542" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyESaZehRe35yRLqiZTR8eOzAoaYC35v653GoVF9m6bFBFoVy5f3QdFkP8mSqxqh1GbexjACP6kXUsP15OS9It1LkQUPsOIkQ80kjztn2UhHLanTwY3OVpd5ar-9eZRuKMN-lS_gnH9Kyaz8b510L6EUAL3roTh6VoDWEsESs3s6uDZHeBMkswMEo-yw/w640-h542/9DE655CC-E976-4C98-B03C-FA55B3FB085E.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Yet, by the time we reached the Sistine Chapel the group was
over our Rome tour guide.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I for one was
thinking of skipping the Sistine Chapel this time because the previous time I
went I hated being stuck in such a crowded place, but before I was aware I was
inside the museum.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That day the itinerary
wasn’t followed and I got stuck in the crowd thinking we were going to a
different location. In my mind I was hoping to sip on a cappuccino while the
group went to the museum and instead I was in a people traffic jam with a tour
guide who I had less and less patience for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It seemed that Father having had the brief talk with Martha made her
insecure and she was now reading her extensive notes afraid to make a mistake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She stopped in the garden of the museum to
explain the frescos that we were about to see. Tour group after tour group
passed us and she continued her extensive lecture on the art pieces. The hot
sun combined with our aching feet from standing all day made many of my group
members run out of patience. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“We just
needed an overview not a college discourse!” bellowed an elderly man, but it
seemed like Martha was wound up and nothing could stop her from sharing the
most miniscule details.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Hours later we boarded the bus exhausted, but happy to be
leaving our Rome guide behind.</span><o:p></o:p></p>In My Shoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468345499538506840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433923404365629101.post-23557935219686257982022-10-21T09:56:00.006-07:002022-10-21T09:56:56.391-07:00Visitng Lourdes France<p></p><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_122ycJ6XPmF4YDDObO9aPuyFd1nx0bb6VebciHTzlAtXoEfLvB-MSLXhSd_94E_2YpbH5fkJ0suKJtrTc9D4kBJN5LF3F4iMQA-FCgs36_Qo2IG4a11933BaKJl5qHR5iePkJXZypQKKYz3iddzR2G0LIhPOl7X5mVfBIn_8ti2oX1QOyAGIJS1YAQ/s5440/5F4D2DB1-80E4-4782-8532-970A24AB705B.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3848" data-original-width="5440" height="452" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_122ycJ6XPmF4YDDObO9aPuyFd1nx0bb6VebciHTzlAtXoEfLvB-MSLXhSd_94E_2YpbH5fkJ0suKJtrTc9D4kBJN5LF3F4iMQA-FCgs36_Qo2IG4a11933BaKJl5qHR5iePkJXZypQKKYz3iddzR2G0LIhPOl7X5mVfBIn_8ti2oX1QOyAGIJS1YAQ/w640-h452/5F4D2DB1-80E4-4782-8532-970A24AB705B.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">After a few years of no traveling, I finally made it
overseas. While the trip was too
ambitious in the ground that I aimed to cover; thus, a bit hectic – there were
moments when I had to pinch myself. I began
in Portugal and was really looking forward to Santiago de Compostela – the
resting place of Saint James, disciple of Jesus and also the end of The Way. Yet, because it was the day after a full day
of travel, we were running late and then it started to rain that that visit was
almost like it never happened. My hope
was to sit in a pew and just enjoy the fact that I was there, but the tour of
the church happened so quick that there was no moment to gather my thoughts or
do more than light a votive. Fatima was
almost equally rushed and I was beginning to think that my trip was going to be
a race to get to the next place and for the most part it was a bit of a rush.
However, even in a blitz God can reach us.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBM0xWadujKIw_LV-BQJJtr_9Yr9Kq3dcptO-5x386DhK3imMo-2JtNm14AwzXZwwmKq2rdbz4sAAftEqGjQGrmJWIf_gOSBzlSDzlWCL7mqybSpVAVLx2RTuk9BHJU6cB_Y5NtBUxse8cC4L_yYycl1S74XSrKrn76gyJpYpE-7YHLiidJdDCd_DT0Q/s4032/B79F63BD-D14B-4677-A4AC-A96829087517.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBM0xWadujKIw_LV-BQJJtr_9Yr9Kq3dcptO-5x386DhK3imMo-2JtNm14AwzXZwwmKq2rdbz4sAAftEqGjQGrmJWIf_gOSBzlSDzlWCL7mqybSpVAVLx2RTuk9BHJU6cB_Y5NtBUxse8cC4L_yYycl1S74XSrKrn76gyJpYpE-7YHLiidJdDCd_DT0Q/w640-h480/B79F63BD-D14B-4677-A4AC-A96829087517.jpeg" width="640" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Where is Judas?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXcZpSdI1GA1HKudoSKOtEFbK3y_utzSmKkI5y7YqRPLVIRART9kSZq079sfEUHb7TQySBetH3FcL7GYF7qABoiDQMYt0O5rWEW8GJE40a_KLg7zJE9UaSek1HCsVZpGEJUqfnRqhcvjoSj3zozlDfeB4t0klB5_sk4FN1-qWvRODxka4G0s0fdSWiPQ/s4032/229028FD-5E4C-4C0C-9E76-44F1FF26C3D0.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXcZpSdI1GA1HKudoSKOtEFbK3y_utzSmKkI5y7YqRPLVIRART9kSZq079sfEUHb7TQySBetH3FcL7GYF7qABoiDQMYt0O5rWEW8GJE40a_KLg7zJE9UaSek1HCsVZpGEJUqfnRqhcvjoSj3zozlDfeB4t0klB5_sk4FN1-qWvRODxka4G0s0fdSWiPQ/w640-h480/229028FD-5E4C-4C0C-9E76-44F1FF26C3D0.jpeg" width="640" /></a></span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">The question I have been getting is, “What was your favorite
place from your trip?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since, I had
already been to Italy before – my favorite place this time was Lourdes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A small town situated in the Pyreness of
France that gets as many visitors as the bigger more famous Paris.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This holy site brings in pilgrims from all
over the world as it’s one of the most spiritual cities famous for its healing
waters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Sanctuary de Notre Dame is
the site where Our Lady appeared to Bernadette.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Since, Lourdes has become a major place for Catholics to visit and also
a place known for many miraculous healings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The first day I arrived in Lourdes, I was exhausted from all the travel,
but mustered the energy to attend the vigil.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>As I made my way to the sanctuary I was blown away by its beauty – the architecture,
the mosaics the lighting- perfection.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt4696fq3usNEaPJmW2ebG-UPcyNaKOGRx8xRzhyoxl5GiNvHYQsQWN2P53MfMQvKJgDLd-7XT3LBxQWNVlTuHEW6ZlQbawbCLEVX_jwYUy7mQB50Kno_x0Bbt6ikTn7NM-sKBVUXstyaoCMOkDFFB0bbQ2Ao_pTgfjFxAUf_hT6LkHDWOJxQgVaswkA/s3024/64BCC1B5-2EBE-4701-802E-04AD68488EBE.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2489" data-original-width="3024" height="526" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt4696fq3usNEaPJmW2ebG-UPcyNaKOGRx8xRzhyoxl5GiNvHYQsQWN2P53MfMQvKJgDLd-7XT3LBxQWNVlTuHEW6ZlQbawbCLEVX_jwYUy7mQB50Kno_x0Bbt6ikTn7NM-sKBVUXstyaoCMOkDFFB0bbQ2Ao_pTgfjFxAUf_hT6LkHDWOJxQgVaswkA/w640-h526/64BCC1B5-2EBE-4701-802E-04AD68488EBE.jpeg" width="640" /></a></span></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Then I was directed to the back of the sanctuary and before
I knew it I was in a line walking towards the grotto.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was at this time that I lost it and began
to sob.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tears rolled down my eyes. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was utterly overwhelmed by the place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt so fortunate to be there so
undeserving…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As, I got closer and began
to touch the rocks, see the image of Mary looking over me and touch the stream
of water I just wanted to stay there. However, I was in a line and people after
me needed to come close too so I made my way out and joined the
procession.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even though I was exhausted
from traveling – I felt so light and so connected to the world as I heard the prayers
in so many languages.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At moments like
this, I always wish that all my loved ones could be there with me sharing in
faith and communion with God and His people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>So, spiritually I carried all my loved ones and their petitions along
the procession.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOCZZpOYhHZ-hFv6FjN-8GGTxhgyrh3JszBMcvcJh0yuPzezoLe5J1bWNNA54O0EviW8TriJ1b-o_CZ2P8fTMms7pNKLmC2-5Fv68q44t8IVhFp33QEsxvja34fpqz_4ob1qnYqw_c5BKVLk1oZKxk6R3lD-un9dnefX8COjqLfj1yV2xdYHpxJkuM1w/s2943/56A75875-8F60-47CF-A598-A33543057720.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2943" data-original-width="1803" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOCZZpOYhHZ-hFv6FjN-8GGTxhgyrh3JszBMcvcJh0yuPzezoLe5J1bWNNA54O0EviW8TriJ1b-o_CZ2P8fTMms7pNKLmC2-5Fv68q44t8IVhFp33QEsxvja34fpqz_4ob1qnYqw_c5BKVLk1oZKxk6R3lD-un9dnefX8COjqLfj1yV2xdYHpxJkuM1w/w392-h640/56A75875-8F60-47CF-A598-A33543057720.jpeg" width="392" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoId5kO8uumnB3eGOXNWiaLwiLi2WD0Gt9eMdDshxUJ07jHogPnylMSKqCJcat2ByBBnuV-Mvct9-LOoIXGPtgWYxQo7jJ5LdoeNTB6Cla0DuGwypdsdoGcK1DGIBPVX1nJ2kSMku4dDg-iPAf7IEnN_3jDit_IhghZ22DgdBBZaM5R251rd_ufIGYdw/s4032/2DCF2C2C-BE84-4241-AFBF-46DA73DED219.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoId5kO8uumnB3eGOXNWiaLwiLi2WD0Gt9eMdDshxUJ07jHogPnylMSKqCJcat2ByBBnuV-Mvct9-LOoIXGPtgWYxQo7jJ5LdoeNTB6Cla0DuGwypdsdoGcK1DGIBPVX1nJ2kSMku4dDg-iPAf7IEnN_3jDit_IhghZ22DgdBBZaM5R251rd_ufIGYdw/w480-h640/2DCF2C2C-BE84-4241-AFBF-46DA73DED219.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div>The next morning, I got to tour the grounds by day and then
had the afternoon at leisure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I decided to
return to the grotto that afternoon to fill my bottle with holy water (per my
mother’s request) and as I was filling up it started to pour.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It rained so hard and I didn’t have any type
of protection from the water and soon I was drenched.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I made my way back to the hotel in the
pouring rain laughing thinking my mom would get a kick out of this story - of
how I got drenched getting the holy water from Lourdes for her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That night it rained and still the pilgrims participated
in the vigil.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was too scared to get
sick so, I opened my hotel window and listened to the prayers that second night
and again I felt so grateful that my journey carried me to such a holy site. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir9-2DNMoHOTAu2BowUKH7KcOF8nEqoX0pCEOyzhCxk8B6SBulbo868URhuW8gPXyz8sc3A8oVWzMqmZiyQpQnyiSjzG1t4iRBNfkfKiAkh5EjPRGd-e8lvlT6RNtDbJHWYV5Xsxed30FYPOCmPXOV5atyHr3UqSucXhaSgFdV3L5BV6Ac4LNA0aclxA/s4032/5D3ED920-2B30-437E-879B-74F6D8BC8A66.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir9-2DNMoHOTAu2BowUKH7KcOF8nEqoX0pCEOyzhCxk8B6SBulbo868URhuW8gPXyz8sc3A8oVWzMqmZiyQpQnyiSjzG1t4iRBNfkfKiAkh5EjPRGd-e8lvlT6RNtDbJHWYV5Xsxed30FYPOCmPXOV5atyHr3UqSucXhaSgFdV3L5BV6Ac4LNA0aclxA/w480-h640/5D3ED920-2B30-437E-879B-74F6D8BC8A66.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><p></p>In My Shoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468345499538506840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433923404365629101.post-17393459534037580142022-09-22T11:48:00.003-07:002022-09-23T11:59:01.068-07:00First Retreat After Covid <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Since I returned to the Catholic Church, I had never experienced
a period of dryness like I have during and post pandemic. Scared of bringing the virus home and
infecting my parents, I stayed away from everything except work. I was watching Mass online, but my religious
groups all closed shop and for once I was living life without community. Finding myself virtual teaching, I had no
desire to login to more zoom calls as some of my prayer groups opened back in
that format. After, that difficult first
year my introvert side started enjoying being home and I slowly became a
content recluse. This past year, with
what seems like the worst behind us and society starting to open up again – I
have struggled getting back into my religious community. I attended a couple times, but then tiredness
and a need to be alone win when I think of going out. Yet, all this time away from like minded
people has depleted my soul, I feel like that fire that used to burn so
intensely now only embers remain. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8eAzzD0XdtInuMBWejgyFDKd6sfkHXh4dp7eRIsee-0ASjFxXv_aJ89bVRW4EJiKiLy8IvHNA1GuDZ5dS7Ri2D-AMHo0y3aOg0HvHPiSUMc3FfGMPbDZWw1Et7qA8xpbf7P607KygvnEfeLnMs-QS_i0sUH5TyqnOC9B4Iw21hIxBaNoKRysRbMH8Ow/s1600/re.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8eAzzD0XdtInuMBWejgyFDKd6sfkHXh4dp7eRIsee-0ASjFxXv_aJ89bVRW4EJiKiLy8IvHNA1GuDZ5dS7Ri2D-AMHo0y3aOg0HvHPiSUMc3FfGMPbDZWw1Et7qA8xpbf7P607KygvnEfeLnMs-QS_i0sUH5TyqnOC9B4Iw21hIxBaNoKRysRbMH8Ow/w640-h480/re.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">As I perused bulletins from various surrounding parishes, I
noticed that one near me was having a Women’s Retreat. I was surprised because this was the only
retreat that I had seen since Covid reopening, but the title “Welcome Retreat”
was off-putting because I thought it might be for new and non-Catholics. I spoke with a friend who attends Saint Simon
and Jude and she said that the title was not meant to be understood that way,
so I signed up. I knew that I needed
something extraordinary to light those embers back up and the fact that I had
missed my practice of yearly retreats – I knew this could be a lifeline to
Jesus. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">The Saturday morning of the retreat I was struggling with a
migraine that had plagued me since the day before and I was under so much pain
that I almost missed it. However, the
retreat organizer had been in constant communication with me and I knew that it
was being sponsored by the parish, the hotel had been paid as well as all
accommodations for me – so guilt made me get out of bed and “just show
up.” I didn’t pack an overnight bag
because I was thinking that I would probably not stay because I was feeling
physically unwell, but when I got to the Ayres Hotel I was stripped from my cell phone and told I would get it back the following day at the end of the
retreat. My cell phone has never been
confiscated before so I was stunned when I handed it over and then when I
realized what I had done I knew that I couldn’t just disappear. I took some Advil and hoped for the best.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1dXMMYeZnPD-qxorrPG_K3-aJgPbghsFNkVbzznLZm2-uefrtow3nCcQEFoxU9AgtwosRBEOUQW86crz9ieQIEdSQ7D1i5EaNKsMay9Ef88SEiJJYjJVZfE4wI89fSc8rpBd58X71I4iAKcSAHOyblQbWOw2MAwmAMpeMNNutMld-EsovYN3_XTilrw/s3539/rv.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2388" data-original-width="3539" height="432" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1dXMMYeZnPD-qxorrPG_K3-aJgPbghsFNkVbzznLZm2-uefrtow3nCcQEFoxU9AgtwosRBEOUQW86crz9ieQIEdSQ7D1i5EaNKsMay9Ef88SEiJJYjJVZfE4wI89fSc8rpBd58X71I4iAKcSAHOyblQbWOw2MAwmAMpeMNNutMld-EsovYN3_XTilrw/w640-h432/rv.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">As the first person went up to share her talk, I was
thinking this is going to be just like any other retreat. The format felt highly familiar and I was
still thinking of the “Welcome” retreat label and continued to feel like there
was no element of surprise. However, by
the time the second speaker was done sharing I was in tears because God was
stirring those embers by showing what I think was the revelation of this
weekend with God. God showed me that He
wants me to have an adult relationship with Him. He wants me to grow: “when I was a child, I
talked like a child, thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I
became a (wo)man, I set aside childish ways.”
With each speaker’s testimony I was blown away by each story, each
heartbreak, each deliverance. The speakers were women (not girls) with
mature stories! That’s what was different,
that was the surprise – mature faith.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">I was able to participate in the Sacraments. I went to
confession after the longest period of absence since I returned to the faith
and that culminated with receiving the Eucharist! We had a small group so Father invited us up
to the altar during consecration. It was
such a beautiful, first time experience to be so near during such a holy
moment. Everything else that occurred
was just icing on the cake! In one week, I will be heading to my first
pilgrimage since Covid closures and I know that because of this retreat I will
be traveling no longer feeling like a black sheep, but rather like a sheep who
lost her way and has rejoined the flock.
“God is good all the time, all the time God is good!” </span> </p>In My Shoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468345499538506840noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433923404365629101.post-66789224156299233932022-09-09T12:50:00.005-07:002022-09-09T12:50:32.326-07:00Some Thoughts<p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQuPsiagpSJ23UzVnPdTa2Uz3H3VP71LNwsbVosFYcoPKMTBr-7McD2bmk6awJ3iru15Xmyxc7uFwEr5BDkuydTtRTMKZrC36HH6YPSLIGi_BBTKS1cGl1XZNi8Dxzl6WyIFNQ8oFcqwALQNzLtVhVbJGS2w0ZpazCYH2Pcslz9bAU_YrVVmjrZSp2uw/s406/hg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="406" data-original-width="387" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQuPsiagpSJ23UzVnPdTa2Uz3H3VP71LNwsbVosFYcoPKMTBr-7McD2bmk6awJ3iru15Xmyxc7uFwEr5BDkuydTtRTMKZrC36HH6YPSLIGi_BBTKS1cGl1XZNi8Dxzl6WyIFNQ8oFcqwALQNzLtVhVbJGS2w0ZpazCYH2Pcslz9bAU_YrVVmjrZSp2uw/w610-h640/hg.jpg" width="610" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">When I got laid off from my mortgage job, I asked God that
if in my future I was to be a career woman to provide me with a job that I was
happy to wake up and go to.</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">Or that if I
was to be a house wife to provide me with a good, Catholic fellow.</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">Well, when I was hired as a teacher I figured
that for the time being God’s desire was for me to work and help the many young
souls that come into my classroom.</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">I
made the commitment that my entire focus would be to making sure that I
transitioned well into my job, especially after so many tries and failures (at
teaching) due to my mental illness.</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">I
had a weird schedule the first year and had to give up my bible study groups along
with sacrificing my social life.</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">Then
the pandemic hit and isolation hit the entire world.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Post pandemic, my work schedule changed to a normal 8AM – 4PM
schedule and now that I feel like I am succeeding at my job I am more able to
focus my attention to other areas of my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Though on a daily I never know how my day will go; whether I will have a
free moment to gather my thoughts, or if I will be able to take my full hour
lunch or sacrifice it to run student council- I am more able to balance work
and the rest of my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have become
more intentional of doing things for me as I have seen the consequences of just
working. While I love my job (minus the drive), I need my Catholic community to
keep a healthy mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thus, I am really
looking forward to my first trip since the lockdown this upcoming October.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">To prepare I am going on a two day retreat next weekend with
my local parish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am hoping that
participating in the sacraments, being around other God loving folks and the
talks will ignite the neglected embers in my soul.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since my reversion to the Catholic faith, I
haven’t been this cold in my faith and I definitely don’t want to remain here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know for a fact, that my mental health
requires both medication and my faith community and these past couple of years that
has been quite evident.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe God is
trying to show me that man doesn’t live of bread alone. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>In My Shoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468345499538506840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433923404365629101.post-90020630703978266802022-09-01T11:39:00.001-07:002022-09-01T11:48:57.646-07:00The Honest Truth<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMS-ByjX71-EcmvvNBHKTeJCAkJ0Arp3udcpiEA0vTl5-LowrEiWp4x1NahhZRJjnRmtlNlsNwrLQw0p0LsLu94PbIgu1dFy9l90yIV-JOOS_0nQ5JXHK4Avm2l7qBkCua-mlGPsILDHMjCX7qr0FPrGEiyn13svTCwul0lvFJQC8jkt1uDRmThg7CnA/s3088/gh.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2316" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMS-ByjX71-EcmvvNBHKTeJCAkJ0Arp3udcpiEA0vTl5-LowrEiWp4x1NahhZRJjnRmtlNlsNwrLQw0p0LsLu94PbIgu1dFy9l90yIV-JOOS_0nQ5JXHK4Avm2l7qBkCua-mlGPsILDHMjCX7qr0FPrGEiyn13svTCwul0lvFJQC8jkt1uDRmThg7CnA/w480-h640/gh.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Growing up, I had a lot of wishy-washy adults who would say
things to me and get me all rattled up only for it to not be true. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">“We will take you to Thrifty’s for ice cream.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">“We’re going to the park for a family picnic.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">“We are taking you to your cousin’s Easter egg hunt…”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">“I am going to stop drinking.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">For the most they were little promises because poor people
have simple dreams - but even though they were small plans the crush of not
meeting the promise was as defeating as a let down of a trip around the world.
Or missing the MEGA Lottery win by a number.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Yet, every week I would have an adult who would rattle my
heart with promises too soon gone with the wind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">“We are walking to Bun ‘N’ Burger for lunch Saturday.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Sometimes with a sense of exasperation I would reply under
my breath, “No, we are not,” but on that Saturday I would privately hope that
this was the day that a promise would be fulfilled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">With time, I lost faith in words and promised that when I
had some sense of control over my life my yes would be a yes and my no would be
a no. I was young, when I realized how your words had to match your actions,
especially when making declarations that affected other people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">One day, as a recent revert in Mass my mom and I heard the
story, about the two brothers who say “yes” and “no” to his father’s request.
“Which brother obeyed?” Father asked during the homily.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mom elbowed me in the pew, “You are like
the one that says “no” and then always follows through!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Usually when she asks me to do something I
always jokingly say, “no” first.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">I don’t have children, but with my nephew I try really hard
to not make promises I don’t intend to keep because I know how damaging they
can be. I mean a broken promise cost me to walk away from my faith for many,
many years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, to say that I value
honesty is an understatement. In fact, when I was in therapy I had to learn to
not be too honest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For example, if your
meeting your boyfriend’s best friend for the first time who cooked dinner specially
for you and you secretly dislike it, you don’t say, “I could have gone without
the sausage.” Which is a true story. I did that in a previous relationship only
to learn that sometimes the truth needs to be omitted or presented in a more
positive way to avoid hurt feelings. Instead I could have said, “I really liked
the sauce.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: large;">I prided myself in my honesty because I didn’t want to be
like so many adults whose words let me down, but I had to learn that honesty
needs to come with an ounce of grace.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Not all of our opinions need to be vocalized.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In my honesty journey, I am learning that
honesty requires tactic, because my words cannot raise false hopes, but they
shouldn’t hurt feelings unnecessarily. </span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span> <o:p></o:p></p>In My Shoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468345499538506840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433923404365629101.post-16796811000253636602022-04-04T15:33:00.002-07:002022-04-04T15:38:51.572-07:00My Folks & I <p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">One of the great things about getting older is that you are
more confident in who you are as a person and the desire to prove yourself
seems to diminish. I just remember
growing up I so (and I should capitalize that for emphasis) SO desired to be
seen as normal. My therapist would say
that because I grew up in such a chaotic home (due to alcoholism and poverty)
that my desire to be normal stemmed there.
I wanted so bad to change what was happening in my home that I sought to
be perfect to fool outsiders. </span></p><p><img src="https://drive.google.com/uc?id=1hbSY13BIMTXYNsLEf4Gbc3cZ6XsQbT4f" width="300" height="300"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">In growing up, I have finally accepted that normal doesn’t
exist.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">As I have gotten older, especially once I started attending
college some friends would make comments about when I was going to move out and
leave my family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s unhealthy for grown-ups
to live at home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some days I felt shame
and other days I felt like I really needed to leave the nest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Again, this question of how abnormal was
continued to be thrown my way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because I
moved to this country, I needed to enculturate and do what all adult American’s
do and that was to get my own place…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">I am glad that my parents put up such a fight when they didn’t
let me leave my nest, because I don’t think that my life would be as rich as it
has been.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In Mexico, kids don’t leave
home unless they get married and no one blinks an eye, but here if you don’t
live on your own by a certain age all these negative connotations smack you in
the face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Growing up poor, my dream was to buy my parents a
house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you live in California one is
lucky if one can afford to purchase one home let alone two. So, I have been living
in this dream home with the people I love most and I have finally realized that
I don’t care if people look at me and think negatively because I love coming
home to my family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My parents give me SO
MUCH joy! Recently, they took a trip to Mexico and I wanted to call them every
day, but I stopped myself from being so clingy (LOL) and only called them twice
a week. They were gone for three weeks and coming home to an empty nest felt sickening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was as depressed as my little Francis who
didn’t eat for the first two days out of pure sadness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">On Thursday, they returned and boy has the mood in my home
changed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was when after a long day of
work, as I was stuck on the 405 (impatient to get home) that I realized how
much I am a family person.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t care that
living alone gives this admired gold star “yep, she has her stuff together,”
because living with my folks doesn’t take away from the responsible person that
I am.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean I have been working since I
was fifteen years old! My parents will tell you that out of their children I am
the one that they least worry about… <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
will tell you that I am blessed to have these years to live so closely with the
best people on the planet that I know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>No regrets about not leaving the nest- in fact only the best memories of
a constantly full house to arrive to. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><o:p></o:p></p>In My Shoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468345499538506840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433923404365629101.post-57443672931639387672022-03-28T11:47:00.000-07:002022-03-28T16:28:46.397-07:00Reengaging in my Spiritual Community <p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">I started in-person weekly bible study again.</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">A couple of weeks ago, I finally went back
and was met by the warmest welcome from my old friends.</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">Half of the old Monday night group is still attending
the rest are new parishioners to the now Wednesday night meeting.</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">I wasn’t expecting my return to have such a
positive effect on me; being there gave me so much hope!</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">The group is on week fifteen of “The Bible
Timeline,” and even though I have taken this series before I am learning so
many great things.</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">Beyond the academic learning,
it’s just so nice being around people of faith!</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">
</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">They took me in without hesitation even though they are quite into the
series and provided me with the materials to quickly make me feel part of the
group again.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">This pandemic has made me even more of a homebody.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have always loved being home and with the
social restrictions I feel like I became even more reclusive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s difficult to find the motivation to
leave my home- the other day I rented a movie instead of going to the movie
theatre – which is so unlike me (I love movie theatre popcorn)!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thus, even though things are back in
business, I have little inspiration to leave my home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My habits changed during the lockdown and now
getting myself to make changes – to be more social is such a struggle!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">It took me forever to go back to the bible study group, even
though they have been meeting for a few months now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I blamed my job and how tired I am afterward
for not attending sooner, but the reality is that I need to create new
habits.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I need to start attending all the
events that used to inspire my faith regularly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Though, I am finding it a struggle to reengage in my spiritual social
life, I know that I am in desperate need of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I think once I have added this Wednesday Bible study to my routine then
I can start looking into adding more things, like the classes to complete my
Master Catechist certificate. Little by little… <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><o:p></o:p></p>In My Shoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468345499538506840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433923404365629101.post-7839358770424404202022-03-07T14:27:00.005-08:002022-03-07T14:27:46.432-08:00 All I Lost Was a Hat, Not My Name<p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">I have a new student from Tehran, who has a really thick
accent. In my interaction with him I have
noticed that he gets really upset when any mention to his accent or race is
mentioned. I wanted to refer him to our English
Specialist and he got really offended and said that even though he had a thick
accent that he didn’t need any assistance- he went on this long angry discourse.
When I finally got a word in, I told him that it had nothing to with his accent
that in his file I just noticed that he hadn’t been reclassified because he had
failed the ELPAC. As, I have gotten to him I sense this great need to shed
cultural ties because he just wants to be a normal American kid. He wants this so much that he is, rocking the
Raybans, The Converse, Adidas Tees and shedding his birth name - legally
changing it to Henry with a nice American last name… I wish I could tell him (in
a way that he would believe) that he is perfect; even with his beautiful, unusually
difficult name to pronounce.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhhkQoM6vZx9M2kfWR9Gc75y8Nw48Xvh8inGDKr47ptPLtdXWTIcE-0zW71GCURVd6qcMIIAgqrk462bN4wTYhPRt3w4JO8jvn3-bMBbElU4gFQJ8i87YLWF_s2N-W6bIfnqPWIGk8zoUsKAQPaKVHSC55lwVdtzyY1m4N8shYQJW-DsqSPnhsyXICBmw=s296" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="296" data-original-width="223" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhhkQoM6vZx9M2kfWR9Gc75y8Nw48Xvh8inGDKr47ptPLtdXWTIcE-0zW71GCURVd6qcMIIAgqrk462bN4wTYhPRt3w4JO8jvn3-bMBbElU4gFQJ8i87YLWF_s2N-W6bIfnqPWIGk8zoUsKAQPaKVHSC55lwVdtzyY1m4N8shYQJW-DsqSPnhsyXICBmw=w242-h320" width="242" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">After moving to America, it took me decades to put to rest
the feeling of being different-in-a-bad-way to stop seeking Americanisms as my perceived
view of perfection.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even as a child, the
students in my elementary school made me feel ugly different.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t just that I didn’t speak the language-
I also dressed differently and even with the language barrier I knew that my
style of dress wasn’t approved.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You see,
in Mexico parents dress their girls in dresses and tie their daughters’ hair in
bows because presentation is important.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Looking presentable easily equates with you coming from a good hard-working
family – and reputation is held to a high esteem.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we moved here, my mother continued to
dress me in frilly dresses and to beach loving kids this manner of dress was
something one wore on special occasions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>So, I knew that I needed to tone it down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, slowly I chose jeans and a t-shirt over
the dresses.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">But…<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Every year, on school picture day, my mom would spend weeks
planning my photo outfit down to the last detail.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was in fifth grade and the TV show “Blossom”
was all the rage along with large hats with fake flowers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, my mom (my sister might have helped)
found a blush pink bucket hat and hot glued a large white Dahlia on the front.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She put me in my new handmade dress, curled
my hair and plumped the hat on my head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
look of satisfaction in her face made me keep the hat on until I was safe from
her view.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once, I knew I was a safe
distance from home and far enough from school I took off the hat and shoved it
my backpack.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I spent the hours until
picture time tortured, concocting a plan on how to put the hat on right before
the photographer snapped my picture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Yet, when it was time for me to take my picture the hat remained in my
backpack- I feared the teasing more than my mother’s wrath.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I got home, mom wanted to know all the
details.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought of waiting until the
proofs came in before telling her that I hadn’t worn the hat, instead I told
her that I wasn’t allowed to wear the hat.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“No hats allowed in
school,” I whispered. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">She was so angry, I thought she might call the school and
complain, “Why did they not allow you to wear it just for the picture! After
all, am I not the one paying for those pictures?!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">To this day she still believes that the school forbade me
from wearing my hat on picture day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This
story had long been forgotten, until I came across a box full of vintage hats
at a neighborhood yard sale.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I bought
it, gave my neighbor ten bucks and I went home salivating over the ribbons, feathers,
veils and flowers of my new hat lot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As
I sat at home, handling each one I thought how much I missed the good old days
and then just like that I remembered my “Blossom” hat and the picture that
never was because I was afraid to be colorful, Mexican me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, all I lost was a hat, not my name.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><o:p></o:p></p>In My Shoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468345499538506840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433923404365629101.post-55496394802464475982022-02-28T13:30:00.004-08:002022-02-28T13:30:44.251-08:00Moving Back to In Person<p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Lent is starting this week and I am looking forward to a
time of conversion in a way that I hadn’t needed before. This year, I am looking forward to bringing
community back into my life. After a
couple years of seeing people virtually or not at all, I am being more
intentional about doing things the good old-fashioned way, face-to-face. Though I have enjoyed and been blessed to
have my monthly women’s group, fraternity and Franciscan formation continue to
meet virtually these past hectic months – I crave for my weekly in person bible
study to be back on my schedule and established as a routine again. I also, hope my other groups will slowly begin
to meet in person soon. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiS4u4h--b8imRwzr8RQEgzGLEMHxCO6-NtwgfYx-IKQAQxrSkht2QoIubmbckJYBdYCjP1iX1neKsZFq3kwSIU12ypbLVHfy3bx2OnRpuA_TvlrkNZskjrpDvyny6WdFL0GUItXBK0uvfs85Klvjk8gUf2WCVm0Aq7qH5xisVXdLMYXwiRndVFrhNRqw=s1085" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="610" data-original-width="1085" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiS4u4h--b8imRwzr8RQEgzGLEMHxCO6-NtwgfYx-IKQAQxrSkht2QoIubmbckJYBdYCjP1iX1neKsZFq3kwSIU12ypbLVHfy3bx2OnRpuA_TvlrkNZskjrpDvyny6WdFL0GUItXBK0uvfs85Klvjk8gUf2WCVm0Aq7qH5xisVXdLMYXwiRndVFrhNRqw=w640-h360" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">For Mass I have rotated between virtual and in-person attendance
based on the spikes of Covid mostly for my parent’s sake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are retired and watch the news and this
has made them quite worrisome about our safety, so in order to help them keep
peace of mind I have modified my actions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Now, though I think that we are back to feeling more optimistic about
the pandemic that I have returned to in person Eucharist.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While I missed going in person severely, joining
online has been such a beautiful experience because I was able to attend live streaming
all over the US.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I got to see many ways communities’
worship and I learned a lot more about the Eucharist and how to enhance community
involvement.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">My favorite virtual attendance where at parishes where more
traditional people attend because I loved seeing the veils and listening to
classic hymns.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also enjoyed the
parishes that did the spiritual communion prayer for those worshiping from
home. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The best thing that I witnessed was
a community in Kansas that has a chalice that travels each week to a different
family to remind them to pray for priests and vocations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They announced the name of the family that
would be receiving the chalice, the family then came to front where the priest handed
over a box (with chalice inside) and sent them to pray and return the chalice
the following Sunday for a new family to take over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was so excited by this, even from my screen
at home since I had never witnessed anything like it. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Yet, even with all the great intel that I have gathered from
my virtual faith life, it doesn’t compare to the intimacy that occurs during
in-person attendance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even though, two
years plus into the pandemic I have gotten used to login from home to attend
the few options available to keep my faith in communion with others- nothing
compares to the beauty of physically being with other people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I miss the sideline conversations, the small
group discussions and breaking bread physically with others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In all my faith groups we would have snacks or
organize potlucks for certain feast days and I miss the joy of those simple
celebrations. As California has once again dropped the mask mandate as a sign
that there is improvement, I am also at a point where I need to be around
others. Thus, this Lent I am looking forward to attending in person Lenten
services, Fish Fry’s, and maybe even a weekend retreat!</span> <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>In My Shoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468345499538506840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433923404365629101.post-69897541260200210612022-02-22T14:53:00.002-08:002022-02-22T14:56:13.022-08:00Time Off<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">I am learning as a teacher that I need to be healthy too. Since, I am a year round teacher I don’t have that nice long summer off, but I do get vacation days to take whenever I deem wise. For the past two years I didn’t want to miss any days even though I was neglecting my own needs. I simply felt guilty thinking the students needed me. You see, I have been entrusted with students with disabilities and mental illness. So, usually when I take a day off I get at least one text asking me where I am at and if I will be out the next day too. It’s endearing to have teens that have developed such a connection with me and that my presence inspires calmness. However, I recently shared with the students that have the hardest time when I am not there that I am bipolar and sometimes I also need a mental day to take care of me. It was sweet when my seventeen-year-old nodded acknowledging that he understood.</span></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg8UKmbjLuw8SWGfJhFXYEgfwqG5m5aVJTx2ZPKH_jv0PFlKLVltb4hll_ZyY2vazxBS7K6J32FQ7r9W_ixDYfOszTxyDag44zdDy-TMSJfoc9GO472bk53S2SBSxDWIikP43QOKhbHyrm7UgbIcGgox95zVbLQyKjUrphLONJToAD3mP5l8kWZmWWi2g=s2968" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2968" data-original-width="2017" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg8UKmbjLuw8SWGfJhFXYEgfwqG5m5aVJTx2ZPKH_jv0PFlKLVltb4hll_ZyY2vazxBS7K6J32FQ7r9W_ixDYfOszTxyDag44zdDy-TMSJfoc9GO472bk53S2SBSxDWIikP43QOKhbHyrm7UgbIcGgox95zVbLQyKjUrphLONJToAD3mP5l8kWZmWWi2g=s320" width="217" /></a></div><p>Just recently I decided to take my vacation days here and there to work on my own mental well-being. I will take one or two extra days when I have a long weekend, even if I don’t have any special plans. Today, I am at home taking an extra day and I had enough energy to cut my own bangs which had been neglected far too long (smile). </p><p>I was also able to see a few friends over the weekend and I told them that I am tired of being cooped out at home and that I am going to be more intentional about seeing everyone. As I vocalized this to the friends that I did see, I got positive reactions that it’s time to see each other again and learn to live during this pandemic not just survive. Getting together with my church friends made me realize that I need them to inspire my faith too. We had some great conversations about how God has been working in our lives and it made all of us desire Him more. We promised that we would come together this upcoming Lent for a home fish fry and <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;">rosary time. </span></p><p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;">Life is meant to be shared and if I have learned anything this pandemic it’s just that. Don’t get me wrong I love being a homebody, but I also need a good chat with my friends. It does the soul good (smile).</span></p>In My Shoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468345499538506840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433923404365629101.post-60663738494768602322022-02-14T15:51:00.004-08:002022-02-14T15:51:39.435-08:00I Am A Little Weird<p><span style="font-size: x-large;">I am a little weird…</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I remember when I started therapy my goal was to be normal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My life was in so much chaos that I craved a
normal family and, in some way, a normal me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>At the time I didn’t know that a lot of my weird was because I was struggling
with untreated bipolar disorder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was
also traveling the least traveled path for a girl from a little town in Mexico
going to college was unheard of.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The power
to realize my dream to leave the ghetto was at the time my primary decision to hold
off on dating in addition to trust issues brought on by my past with abuse.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgsdpgsetgj3y4ZmXXRWIu-9r4HJB2sq8QAsTuk-yv8LFFXTaDnd8o2WZT3BePZAs3i9pbB5n83TmjFKx4f32nZaCT7EDAF7ZWynWQcuf5zR8NcRHVt1cd2ldjAFIVjZMAFeukuYJpkkUhlMdmeMIdIuXND3i0T3fGXfEQAcHN8-UjXa6t1I9WgplPMgg=s900" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="720" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgsdpgsetgj3y4ZmXXRWIu-9r4HJB2sq8QAsTuk-yv8LFFXTaDnd8o2WZT3BePZAs3i9pbB5n83TmjFKx4f32nZaCT7EDAF7ZWynWQcuf5zR8NcRHVt1cd2ldjAFIVjZMAFeukuYJpkkUhlMdmeMIdIuXND3i0T3fGXfEQAcHN8-UjXa6t1I9WgplPMgg=w512-h640" width="512" /></a></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I never made my love life a priority, I just thought that it
would happen on its own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I guess just like
all the other avenues that I have traveled dating has also been a different
experience for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>First, it was out of
my radar because I wanted to graduate college.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Then, I thought that it would just arrive on its own, but the places
that I was going to were places that the type of guys I am into would never go
to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My friends met guys at bars and
clubs, but those guys were not my type.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I like introverted, intelligent men. Smarter than me, even better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I find brainy men utterly attractive and
these men rarely step inside a club or a bar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Then I encountered that sometimes, intelligence more often than not came
with arrogance and that was a major turnoff. So, I realized that I wanted an utterly
intelligent man with a humble heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Along the path I had a faith reversion, that meant that now I was also
looking for someone who would inspire my faith journey – a man with a vision
towards heaven…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">No one around me fit that bill, so I trusted that God would figure
it out for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had heard of online
dating from acquaintances and eventually some friends; however, just like college
the online platform is the less traveled road for girls from where I come
from.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thus, I have been apprehensive to
get on there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I still have this part of
me that believes that God will bring the man for me when the time is right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My parents are small town folk and when I
speak to them about joining a dating site they are as apprehensive as I am.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are used to the good old days when a
girl would meet a man from the same town, a man who could be trusted by his
family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For now, I am still waiting and
praying and asking Saint Valentine to bring me mine. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><o:p></o:p></p>In My Shoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468345499538506840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433923404365629101.post-55412451249022525462022-01-31T15:37:00.004-08:002022-01-31T15:37:25.701-08:00My True Home <p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">Some moments in the year feel heavier when they have been marked
by loss. I know for me every November there’s this gray shadow that just sits
in place.</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">It just shows up around the
same time and just sits there, a reminder of something tragic, but also a testament
to great love.</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">When I was younger, I
couldn’t wait to grow up and leave my family because my teenage heart felt like
I couldn’t handle the pain of being part of such a dysfunctional family.</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">One day, I was so upset that I shared this
with my mentor, she in her wise age told me- you’re only thinking of the pain
that you would avoid, but you would miss out on all of the joy.</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">That was the beginning of my education - only
those that know great pain can also know great love, these two disciplines live
side by side to illuminate the power of love.</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"> </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjv-T9uXs3YySNwpzROm6L5Mjr8Yl9voP2XjCWm_HfI-C202lEhnULMQq-d6OMMW5L4s-1qh56UuBh1FvGtDbfOzLI4FlWDIRmjiNBGyHqrQfFs1sdj8nLOtf_w0s_z0WiCakedNT0lG5HgbJoP2KPtctHwYJrJCsWwRxFhyEhFj5dajLbXtKXJFBG0RA=s888" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="888" data-original-width="800" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjv-T9uXs3YySNwpzROm6L5Mjr8Yl9voP2XjCWm_HfI-C202lEhnULMQq-d6OMMW5L4s-1qh56UuBh1FvGtDbfOzLI4FlWDIRmjiNBGyHqrQfFs1sdj8nLOtf_w0s_z0WiCakedNT0lG5HgbJoP2KPtctHwYJrJCsWwRxFhyEhFj5dajLbXtKXJFBG0RA=w576-h640" width="576" /></a></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">God calls us to be happy, and though I try my best to live
contently every November the shadow comes and drops reminding me of the separation
between siblings that began one Fall day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I used to agonize over the sadness that comes during those weeks, but
now I use the shadow to remind me of why I believe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My faith is strongest when I think of death
and when I know that even if it comes and it shatters my heart, that one day I will
be reunited.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At first, I used to think
that I would be reunited with my loved one and that gave me utter joy and
satisfaction- until one priest said, “what about Jesus?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now when I think of my reunion with those
that have gone before me, I also think about Jesus and Mary and all the saints
that I have gotten to know and the longing for the life to come intensifies.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">We are all just passing by, this house that we call our home
is temporal and a crumb of sand compared to the home that waits for us in
heaven.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s why I believe, that’s why
I reverted and in November I think about it more deeply and the shadow that
comes serves as a reminder of the world to come… <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><o:p></o:p></p>In My Shoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468345499538506840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433923404365629101.post-5221724795002142112022-01-24T13:46:00.003-08:002022-01-24T13:46:33.795-08:00Degrees of Prayer :o) <p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">Last week two parents showed up at my school wanting to speak
with me to inform me that their daughter (former student who recently
graduated) had suffered a brain aneurysm.</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">
</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">They shed some tears and showed me a picture of her in her hospital
bed.</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">They were like if God left her alive
then that means she’s going to heal.</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">Since
they brought God up into the conversation, I told them about Saint Peregrine’s Chapel
at the mission, I told them that they should stop by and light a votive while
seeking his intercession.</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"> </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjv62JbLwjINutc1azeo8mGTZcKshkG2l1y4htxUgRgL3k71E618frBWdRPeNeKcx_4ytt0B8kWNgTF7cc-9zvlgiFT7CU26f0AAj6-SGvQhKnMq9tvVH9g3XoriT5K578fXFHRsQbs5SPHzY_XgR4QWwhMnzCq5NOm8EZPf7yHU4ZCTgymSYgKySzXyg=s852" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="852" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjv62JbLwjINutc1azeo8mGTZcKshkG2l1y4htxUgRgL3k71E618frBWdRPeNeKcx_4ytt0B8kWNgTF7cc-9zvlgiFT7CU26f0AAj6-SGvQhKnMq9tvVH9g3XoriT5K578fXFHRsQbs5SPHzY_XgR4QWwhMnzCq5NOm8EZPf7yHU4ZCTgymSYgKySzXyg=w640-h360" width="640" /></a></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">When I was a little girl in Mexico, I remember my mom going
to our parish daily and sometimes lighting votives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I especially recall the fresh match smell and
to this day I love the scent of matches it conjures such warm memories.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Today, in my house we have paschal candles
that we light when we are going through difficult times, have important meetings,
or as a sign of intercession for family or friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We also light it on significant occasions,
especially when a loved one is dying or has died.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Though, lighting a candle as a way to engage the mind in
prayer is a good habit to have, to me lighting a votive has deeper meaning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I either light one for deep felt intercessions
or sometimes in thanksgiving for prayers answered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though some family members who are not Catholic
have warned me that it’s superstitious thing to do and that God only requires a
personal relationship – I do believe that sacramentals are important in
deepening faith.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I have challenges
where I feel like things are so out of my control, it calms me to take that
secondary action to light a candle as an expression of how deep I am relying on
God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Only special prayers are
accompanied by the light. Only those prayers where I know my limitations and need
to express to God in a way that words cannot do I light a votive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The more serious the intention the more steps
that I take to show God my need of Him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When I feel desperate, then lighting one at home is not enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I must go to my parish and light one in the
house of the Lord.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">When I travel I am so thankful for the churches that still
have the candles that require a match. In the area where I live most are
electronic and light up at the push of a button.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To me there’s something quite spiritual in
lighting that match, watching the smoke of the match dissolve into thin air in
its place the flame illuminating my hopes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I also really like the parishes that have candle stations in front of
various saints because then I go crazy and ask the communion of saints to
intercede like good friends to our God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This weekend, I lit a candle for my student at the parish where I
attended Mass and it gave me such a sense of relief, that though I cannot do
much for my student I have a God who works miracles.</span> <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>In My Shoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468345499538506840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433923404365629101.post-74364306115212460862022-01-18T14:24:00.001-08:002022-01-18T14:24:25.739-08:00The Saint Francis Challenge<p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">I needed motivation to get active and I heard of walking
challenges so I decided to do a little research and see if there was an app
that would connect me with some kind of physical activity to keep me accountable
and most of all inspired.</span><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">That’s when I started
looking into The Conqueror Application.</span><span style="font-family: georgia;">
</span><span style="font-family: georgia;">I downloaded it and was browsing through the trails that it provides,
when I noticed that on the list were some spiritual treks.</span><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">There was of course the Camino de Santiago,
but my heart skipped a beat when I saw that one of the called the Saint Francis
Way.</span><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">My fingers were too quick to click
on the description and as I read that the challenge would take me on a virtual
312 miles trek following the footsteps of my favorite Saint across the beautiful
Italian countryside, I was quick to sign up for it.</span></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhiBW4btDUSFf81jwGel7nd95lJrDgC677H9AdsflzCmxpKHzS7XnuHa52B2O6CXu6S1j6pihp2deWG6kThQ3H71Xku9KvTAQePpGhv5p_RxPtC-EUh_aOfbE_glgg-GbLRAelERia73A4uV5F0pXu_brS_UHvG8Skbl2CQe9OKRtRdJ4XSjQKwrvh9mQ=s627" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="581" data-original-width="627" height="594" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhiBW4btDUSFf81jwGel7nd95lJrDgC677H9AdsflzCmxpKHzS7XnuHa52B2O6CXu6S1j6pihp2deWG6kThQ3H71Xku9KvTAQePpGhv5p_RxPtC-EUh_aOfbE_glgg-GbLRAelERia73A4uV5F0pXu_brS_UHvG8Skbl2CQe9OKRtRdJ4XSjQKwrvh9mQ=w640-h594" width="640" /></a></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">I am now about a week into the challenge, and I am totally
motivated to continue using the app until I reach my goal of arriving at the
Vatican in Rome.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The app lets you decide
on the pace you would like to go and I decided to set a goal of walking those
miles in about three months because this is my first challenge and I want to
make sure that I stick with it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every
day, it takes the information from my Fitbit and calculates how far I have
traveled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On a map it shows my beginning
point and how far away I have gone from it, it also shows points on the map
where other travelers are at the virtual trek.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I can choose if I want to get involved in chatting with the rest of the
people on the app, or whether I just want to walk on my own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So far, I haven’t bee interreacting with the
others and I prefer it that way, but it’s nice to see my progress as measured
with the others for some reason it helps to keep me accountable and motivated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are virtual walkers who are going slow
like me and others at a faster or even slower pace and that makes it a little
competitive which sometimes I need.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg_7EvrK2KyhdAax-qm-_wVG0QeAU5y4Cu1p-ud_oeVNFgkFHK5HPj-o4Y2jcKseg4SHRHpoiYI7_a2Mk99TRZd33JmPoVdah3ZRBURdRh9mI_618m97pfzyBXlSBNuymoXuH-aq6i2bMx5ERGKmstj6pHgxCCpEB-Ky3SNfxhdSpmwXu4n7gf_KAUz3w=s1085" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="747" data-original-width="1085" height="440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg_7EvrK2KyhdAax-qm-_wVG0QeAU5y4Cu1p-ud_oeVNFgkFHK5HPj-o4Y2jcKseg4SHRHpoiYI7_a2Mk99TRZd33JmPoVdah3ZRBURdRh9mI_618m97pfzyBXlSBNuymoXuH-aq6i2bMx5ERGKmstj6pHgxCCpEB-Ky3SNfxhdSpmwXu4n7gf_KAUz3w=w640-h440" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhMxSVCrChjH7NhkfUQLBOKvzuR1vW71lAqn34UPduDgGg-govS3uSSjRBpH2h9HMNTNu0LsljCqhTqkcKC62XBtreh1T2iBdC2dVA2LJtsy6tswFV1tkzYxa8-nE5RSLJHczMUrvxZGSDb6ZSdD7buMYsAgzIbHuJIk1a8joiBgbd6IExVeAh7Ckxepg=s1443" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1443" data-original-width="1104" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhMxSVCrChjH7NhkfUQLBOKvzuR1vW71lAqn34UPduDgGg-govS3uSSjRBpH2h9HMNTNu0LsljCqhTqkcKC62XBtreh1T2iBdC2dVA2LJtsy6tswFV1tkzYxa8-nE5RSLJHczMUrvxZGSDb6ZSdD7buMYsAgzIbHuJIk1a8joiBgbd6IExVeAh7Ckxepg=w490-h640" width="490" /></a></div></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">The great thing about the app is that it also has, what it
calls postcards and these cards come along every few miles and describe the
place where you are and a little about Saint Francis (which I love the most)! I
really enjoy that I am trying to get physically motivated, but also that I can
add spirituality to the notion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This
just makes the trek, that much more special.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I feel like everyday I am on this journey with Saint Francis and we are
in this together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is not just a
challenge about getting physically active this is also about connecting with a spiritual
giant and trying to learn more about him as I walk in his footsteps.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At the end of the challenge, the company will
mail me a medal to commemorate my achievement. So far, I am really enjoying the
process and I am thinking that it won’t be the only virtual pilgrimage that I
go on, but for it being my first who better to go with me than Brother Francis</span>!
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">https://www.theconqueror.events/all-challenges/</span></p>In My Shoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468345499538506840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433923404365629101.post-25937388986087170542022-01-10T13:01:00.002-08:002022-01-10T13:01:15.258-08:00Making the Time for Creativity<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh_GpK1FOfpyeecUlh0g7QOv9_hKugEaStMBDHBNI1oQRNrjMlYo5t87nRf1PUcrBzmnLZEPtBXjUmI4m6m5oFP_20hx0fnDBO7qq4ZOYDKVft4n92kc_rtLEOmXfeES-GPStzuAQVA8aaLScdPuOkTWtqLcrYI8ZP0uM_s9zY7iPoA1dMzXKIZDSfRJw=s2735" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2735" data-original-width="2316" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh_GpK1FOfpyeecUlh0g7QOv9_hKugEaStMBDHBNI1oQRNrjMlYo5t87nRf1PUcrBzmnLZEPtBXjUmI4m6m5oFP_20hx0fnDBO7qq4ZOYDKVft4n92kc_rtLEOmXfeES-GPStzuAQVA8aaLScdPuOkTWtqLcrYI8ZP0uM_s9zY7iPoA1dMzXKIZDSfRJw=w542-h640" width="542" /></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">This year I want more to be more intentional about being
creative. For the past Covid years I
have been living life trying to balance all the implications that an pandemic
added to my life. My job became so hectic
that it eclipsed everything else. This
year, I have picked up this new motto that no work is coming home with me, that
includes my thoughts, I will not fixate on all the things that I need to finish
for school once I leave the site. I have
been using this technique, since I returned to work after Christmas Break and I
am noticing that such a small change is really making quite a difference in my
day to day. I don’t feel this overwhelming
shroud over me anymore because I am learning to compartmentalize things or
maybe I am learning to set boundaries. </span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgElbXFV49tL8XPiCMiXb2nEzHNUUGL1g3t1AJT2rs9uMUGQomhPOo4gc0lv2WK8Opmfahg9QoEkuJLRtygiXRq9QRjNdTEfjG9pLcyQuhIha2oVAhjld0LpzT1ep3ZNgapE2tOLxqx_ogBIAXRGd-MAY57lq96UMmRsS9NMmvm9vSdbMpmods9V8Y0HQ=s4032" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgElbXFV49tL8XPiCMiXb2nEzHNUUGL1g3t1AJT2rs9uMUGQomhPOo4gc0lv2WK8Opmfahg9QoEkuJLRtygiXRq9QRjNdTEfjG9pLcyQuhIha2oVAhjld0LpzT1ep3ZNgapE2tOLxqx_ogBIAXRGd-MAY57lq96UMmRsS9NMmvm9vSdbMpmods9V8Y0HQ=s320" width="240" /></a></div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgoZ71heNcHeW6rA7MDiOPMsx_lWCkqaKXkF6LHiso6rscACWUzDn1XU9xiE-CzIsO0L97dxQULy-NaZBd7s-0WTXhL15BXNydivMDoDAbFt82cBWskLvSujVzYq-klSnrF29y2fpDzTTtGsHOts4uZ2WfphHxntXoB2Wu1-rXP6LvbJm7zyUL-95zSBA=s4032" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgoZ71heNcHeW6rA7MDiOPMsx_lWCkqaKXkF6LHiso6rscACWUzDn1XU9xiE-CzIsO0L97dxQULy-NaZBd7s-0WTXhL15BXNydivMDoDAbFt82cBWskLvSujVzYq-klSnrF29y2fpDzTTtGsHOts4uZ2WfphHxntXoB2Wu1-rXP6LvbJm7zyUL-95zSBA=s320" width="240" /></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">All it took was something my boss said during our staff
holiday lunch.</span><span style="font-family: georgia; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">In her annual speech she
said that she hoped we realized that there was more to work and to try to live
our lives knowing that our family, loved ones and ourselves deserved our
dedication too.</span><span style="font-family: georgia; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">I had been so focused on
my students and offering the best services possible and that became my entire
focus and I was so miserable!</span><span style="font-family: georgia; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">I felt
like a robot only living to get my kids graduated during such uncertain times-
this meant giving up on everything else because all of my energy was focused on
doing a good job.</span><span style="font-family: georgia; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">So, during break I began
to do things that I hadn’t done since Covid hit and I realized that the more I
balanced my life the more I felt like a balanced human being.</span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">I finally restored a vintage, seventies Bottega Veneta bag
that I found at The Salvation Army a couple years ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The bag had a big black ink stain to the faded
tan leather and I knew that a dye job would restore it for another round of life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was able to dust my brushes and dye bottles
during my time off and spend a whole day just working on the leather and
bringing the bag back to its former glory.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It’s as if restoring this bag, helped reignite a fire that had burned
out by the pandemic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I began to get
excited about equally frivolous things – like working on more leather projects
and I felt joy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thus, I continued making
small changes and I those small changes have reaffirmed that life needs to be
about more than just work (smile). <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><o:p></o:p></p>In My Shoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468345499538506840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433923404365629101.post-63110744204170672592022-01-03T13:02:00.002-08:002022-01-03T13:02:19.498-08:00My Parents Wedding Rings<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi4DfIlOg0shOJ8eVq1-t5dnUQj0Fhhd-erX6oo8nBpPMLcNJLaFEstwtLmJSWF_VaTlWZmCDxGs6TO3KggBwZ_iDz-OwQ3NtjHaVKtD9kZkbInCPLeWIAtWG4d9o5SEEIFjb4sh-f873NwzWoIJAppuyPTPB_yW6DsAOmdznUEpNCOGs4NDrJJSie7WA=s2048" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi4DfIlOg0shOJ8eVq1-t5dnUQj0Fhhd-erX6oo8nBpPMLcNJLaFEstwtLmJSWF_VaTlWZmCDxGs6TO3KggBwZ_iDz-OwQ3NtjHaVKtD9kZkbInCPLeWIAtWG4d9o5SEEIFjb4sh-f873NwzWoIJAppuyPTPB_yW6DsAOmdznUEpNCOGs4NDrJJSie7WA=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Last year, for my birthday I took my parents to the circus. As I was driving us there, I told my parents, "This is the other way around instead of you taking me to the circus as a child, I am taking you guys." We laughed and recalled our humble childhood and closed the conversation grateful that we no longer live paycheck to paycheck... When I started this blog I lamented how I always wanted to have an heirloom passed on to me, but my parents had a limited beginning too. My mom often tells us (and I can hear the pain in her voice), "When your dad and I got married we didn't even have enough to take a single picture. During those times most people went without all the extras including rings." Thus, when they had their 50th wedding anniversary I made sure to give them a professional photo session. It was such a heartwarming experiencing seeing them take those too long awaited photographs.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhRkusYZtD1maNJ3S5lqw14UZiJTBVbhdWM9Td148nxPYSLPkk3dB24FibC3okO0M30LZ2-BeltJUBKSoyh21gx8S1yMxaLGcgCAdU2HAAYI5EsUCVO0dMp1YShtkhseSsZw3Ymp30lxuUVuUFza896DL5lSgNCNQfoeLPXnsmJSCTMtLmdGsgDH7NUYw=s960" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhRkusYZtD1maNJ3S5lqw14UZiJTBVbhdWM9Td148nxPYSLPkk3dB24FibC3okO0M30LZ2-BeltJUBKSoyh21gx8S1yMxaLGcgCAdU2HAAYI5EsUCVO0dMp1YShtkhseSsZw3Ymp30lxuUVuUFza896DL5lSgNCNQfoeLPXnsmJSCTMtLmdGsgDH7NUYw=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">This Christmas, I was thinking what can I give them? Thanks be to God our fortunes have changed and materially we are blessed. Then, I got this idea and I told my siblings about it and as a family we got our parents their wedding rings! On Christmas Day, we were all so much more excited about what we gave then opening any presents. When my mom opened her jewelry box and saw that she had both the engagement ring and wedding band that she had been secretly dreaming of (but never asked for) she leaped into my dad's arms like a lovestruck teenager. My dad seeing her happiness wondered why we hadn't thought of this gift sooner. And when you think that men are not into romance and details, let my dad's excitement when he put his band on be a testament that men are just as taken by traditional signals of love. Unfortunately, we didn't get the right size rings and had to take them to the jewelry store to get them sized and we have to wait a few weeks to get them back.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">I was sharing with a friend one of the best moments of my Christmas, and she was like, "so you married your parents there in your living room." We of course didn't do that, but it was such a heartfelt moment to see these two lovebirds well over fifty years into their marital sacrament, look at each other with a love only stronger, deeper and most true - celebrate a ritual that had been missing, but never lacking has been their joyful-love and commitment for one another. -- This year, I learned that while I have been making up all the things that I missed out on as an impoverish child, I can do the same with my folks. I can help make their dreams come true, like a good fairy daughter (smile grande). </span></p>In My Shoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468345499538506840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433923404365629101.post-4655352680759141882021-12-13T11:27:00.005-08:002021-12-13T15:01:53.138-08:00Rollercoaster Weekend<p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">It’s been a bit of a rollercoaster weekend.</span><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">It all began with the emotional highs of
celebrating my nephew’s 15</span><sup style="font-family: georgia;">th</sup><span style="font-family: georgia;"> birthday! We celebrated him along with
ten of his friends at Fountain Valley Bowl.</span><span style="font-family: georgia;">
</span><span style="font-family: georgia;">The years have gone too quickly, just yesterday I was afraid to hold him
in my arms because he was a tiny babe!</span><span style="font-family: georgia;">
</span><span style="font-family: georgia;">Now, one of the tallest in his group, I still find myself as in awe of
him as that first day I met him outside the womb.</span><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">He’s just beginning his passage towards adulthood
and I can still see glimpses of a child, when he’s not putting up the teenage
bravado. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">On this day, he was all smiles surrounded
by his teen posey and from the margins I got to share in his celebration as we
gave him the space to claim his independence.</span><span style="font-family: georgia;">
</span><span style="font-family: georgia;">Though, when it was time for the cake, I did embarrass him by corralling
all the kids to sing him a very high-pitched birthday tune.</span></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjGwlEhAqRcc3tSuZ_Fh7s-IuO8U7CsxTek4kjF9XApBMFDittnPntXRDT5WoaVVwbAUEQxgkeyhML7z4JOyNrW5y1AVlo9kAeNp-DjkdcWCYK5feOtt7oPlOnzkF5kVcZYX6PJWy7HmoKeHtUY8w1dY8IUHTUxvlQI-F63ARDz2Ph5b5gqMwIgFzj7lQ=s967" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="457" data-original-width="967" height="302" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjGwlEhAqRcc3tSuZ_Fh7s-IuO8U7CsxTek4kjF9XApBMFDittnPntXRDT5WoaVVwbAUEQxgkeyhML7z4JOyNrW5y1AVlo9kAeNp-DjkdcWCYK5feOtt7oPlOnzkF5kVcZYX6PJWy7HmoKeHtUY8w1dY8IUHTUxvlQI-F63ARDz2Ph5b5gqMwIgFzj7lQ=w640-h302" width="640" /></a></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Following the mini <span lang="ES-MX" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">quinceañera</span>, I headed to my friend’s house for my annual
Christmas dinner gathering. After a year hiatus we were able to come together
and celebrate the birth of Jesus together as friends and sisters in Christ.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was great to see each other because even
now the gatherings are quite scattered and rare.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The children as always show us that even
though we all come from humble, turbulent beginnings we are choosing to give
our future generation a better life, not just materially, but also by being
more loving and trying to correct the wrongs we experienced.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh1HjqO-pyfkadN1y7MvBObJXHWouX0d3wEr9FoRGFtkvkoe7byiKky8Dh8GAfTIsoHV8Fgs0p3AKFvUWFZz4Em0m53pxaKmI3RtB48V8_LbQjYV7bTXeq59UfyWv2nV5s1ES2y2F-rhGXZZbWFOuBWBG-tpph7LgxFT9wexCd-gxo7dWDDZzwPI05H-Q=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh1HjqO-pyfkadN1y7MvBObJXHWouX0d3wEr9FoRGFtkvkoe7byiKky8Dh8GAfTIsoHV8Fgs0p3AKFvUWFZz4Em0m53pxaKmI3RtB48V8_LbQjYV7bTXeq59UfyWv2nV5s1ES2y2F-rhGXZZbWFOuBWBG-tpph7LgxFT9wexCd-gxo7dWDDZzwPI05H-Q=w300-h400" width="300" /></a></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">On Sunday, I woke up to the news that the one celebrity that
has become an integral part of my family’s history had passed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Vicente Fernandez or “Chente” as many of us
affectionally called him had gone on to serande Our Lady of Gudalupe on her
day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That night we gathered as a family
to watch Chente’s wake and were surprised by a concert given by the Mariachi
Azteca who accompanied him for over forty years at El Rancho Los Tres
Potrillos.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The family opened their doors
to the ranch’s arena for the pueblo to come and say good bye to their beloved star
and from the screen of our home my family gathered to pay our respects.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We cried like we have never mourned a
celebrity while we saw his family and loved ones stand guard at his coffin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We recalled all those wonderful memories he
gave us and the many songs that have nurtured us throughout our years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At first he was boracho music (Sigo Siendo El
Rey), or songs that we played when our hearts were broken (La Diferencia), or
when we lost a loved one (Mi Querido Viejo), or when we found out my sister was
pregnant (Hermoso Cari<span lang="ES-MX" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">ñ</span>o),
or when my nephew crawled dance to “Estos Celos” and we used the “Para Siempre”
soundtrack as his lullabies… Eventually his music interwined with our memories. It felt like the closing of the Ranchera golden
era, a death of a tradition, a loss of the good ol’ days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was also quite fitting that as a family we
gathered to watch “El Ultimo Adios” like we used to gather so many times around
the TV screen to see his movies in the eighties and nineties.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhwb-VytmfG-MGArDMtRU5soyquhUipU2W2ig23TDcgNldjyBABjpUwcUijRBGruOcTBfEfQMVPrTpECwVHxU0o1fjh5lZqTMrOSYTUC1OvgZdGRB6IUF2-qptFrJijy57q6tqmgkBe2vmaNLUQU7EpLemJ3980ppd9T11v0t5YTzzmYbzwFp7qEM7LJA=s800" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="800" height="384" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhwb-VytmfG-MGArDMtRU5soyquhUipU2W2ig23TDcgNldjyBABjpUwcUijRBGruOcTBfEfQMVPrTpECwVHxU0o1fjh5lZqTMrOSYTUC1OvgZdGRB6IUF2-qptFrJijy57q6tqmgkBe2vmaNLUQU7EpLemJ3980ppd9T11v0t5YTzzmYbzwFp7qEM7LJA=w640-h384" width="640" /></a><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large; text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span></span></div><o:p></o:p><p></p>In My Shoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468345499538506840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433923404365629101.post-28282068729690827592021-12-06T10:22:00.006-08:002021-12-06T10:22:33.576-08:00My Technology Break<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEibCsM4V9lQP4P5d70CjD-3vLXXXBvYFVl3SIHir5U2alrbsrxQB-PMvVb_eZ54Z8Wd7e4jsKds-4LRB8nGh8MNPyxBCRfmTBbYySdGJLJ6LmTOOqw4x_eguT-EWRbHABwwgq-Aw7ttRUkAagq1dRppc9ykF6SfR6sc3sEX-6ngPu_nutIGXmI64gzAaw=s2048" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEibCsM4V9lQP4P5d70CjD-3vLXXXBvYFVl3SIHir5U2alrbsrxQB-PMvVb_eZ54Z8Wd7e4jsKds-4LRB8nGh8MNPyxBCRfmTBbYySdGJLJ6LmTOOqw4x_eguT-EWRbHABwwgq-Aw7ttRUkAagq1dRppc9ykF6SfR6sc3sEX-6ngPu_nutIGXmI64gzAaw=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">For Thanksgiving Break I wanted a break from all technology
so forgive me for going MIA for a couple of weeks.</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">I was tired, burned out from being in front
of a screen that as a gift to myself I took some time off.</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">During that break I did many things that
inspired as well as refreshed me.</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">I
began with a visit to the new Saint Michael’s Abbey- I hadn’t been to the new relocation
site, since accidently driving there once when it was just a patch of dirt.</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">While the construction continues the abbey is
now open to the public!</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">I was able to
see some of the artists working on the murals for each of the chapels.</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">It was great to be inside and witness how the
place of worship slowly comes together.</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">I
can’t wait until the Abbey Church is completed!</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiOcKqqmCiZw2w-bItesHhn9ey02P6a719WNB4yrJxNIEWyUujF9vu9y-36FTI9IN846Q-5dyS1xP7iKIMvBGx7cY1xWD8SkQVZ-FS7FkFmHGZpJ6FfjozJjWLmbJ996DrC90ZWoIL8Lw6tOK0vfo6dlYmF50ETmLcLxhMuN0BQsXIEpw5ceoftlzgJAw=s2048" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiOcKqqmCiZw2w-bItesHhn9ey02P6a719WNB4yrJxNIEWyUujF9vu9y-36FTI9IN846Q-5dyS1xP7iKIMvBGx7cY1xWD8SkQVZ-FS7FkFmHGZpJ6FfjozJjWLmbJ996DrC90ZWoIL8Lw6tOK0vfo6dlYmF50ETmLcLxhMuN0BQsXIEpw5ceoftlzgJAw=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">That first Monday of my Thanksgiving Break, I drove up there
in the mid-morning hours to avoid traffic and the drive especially when I made
it up to the hills was so relaxingly peaceful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I loved feeling like the road was for me only because I got to enjoy the
gorgeous Silverado Hills.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I entered into
God’s presence as I drove towards the abbey and when I arrived there were only
two people in the Church in addition to the quiet artists painting away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I walked very slowly touring the main Church just
admiring the architectural design and the work that was slowly underway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I got to see the dedication chapels blank just
holding the name of the saint that would soon be depicted in colors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was quite exciting to see that many saints
that I hold dear will have a chapel dedicated to them and hold their relics!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjLKzK1VF90KOi9V_JM2khILV_gMThZ5d2wjaMKPN5ITUcdkUvPZ1Zm8ck24Bva1iCFvFdIAnyUHBcL32Uge4dXUmfDdr0HbbdukvExfvgW8BFpNqBkcqsFBm2QCmbt_wjTU-8mkdHbd1sLpV4xMuXSrNGiMSxPsZPFv7VmY2ZY-Ov9nDxqNykUjvqSLA=s4032" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjLKzK1VF90KOi9V_JM2khILV_gMThZ5d2wjaMKPN5ITUcdkUvPZ1Zm8ck24Bva1iCFvFdIAnyUHBcL32Uge4dXUmfDdr0HbbdukvExfvgW8BFpNqBkcqsFBm2QCmbt_wjTU-8mkdHbd1sLpV4xMuXSrNGiMSxPsZPFv7VmY2ZY-Ov9nDxqNykUjvqSLA=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></span></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">While I sat there enjoying the sun shinning through stained glass
windows, I knew that like the old abbey this place would become a favorite
praying spot, a place close to home to retrieve to in moments of needed spiritual
fueling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I lost track of time and soon I
was praying the Sext along with the Norbertine Fathers and seminarians.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was such a treat to listen to them chant!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEirAElIoeRPTnJq47gNwvooMt-uvSTLCCkuEZ0TmkdNE2MAeEL4-HmWO-dLMYzwLv1a7ZNJ-89QDazpMR0TckOXpIZpcTw0018PxY-1duWN08qjYzPkbXfVceLrt8FDj8qJZMa9UjN1MsZhZiheMMvk8wKR7m_4ucvt3_cCrUNv7eONE1q-tDlkhilsXw=s4032" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEirAElIoeRPTnJq47gNwvooMt-uvSTLCCkuEZ0TmkdNE2MAeEL4-HmWO-dLMYzwLv1a7ZNJ-89QDazpMR0TckOXpIZpcTw0018PxY-1duWN08qjYzPkbXfVceLrt8FDj8qJZMa9UjN1MsZhZiheMMvk8wKR7m_4ucvt3_cCrUNv7eONE1q-tDlkhilsXw=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Spending half of the day at the abbey was the best way to begin
a week that has been so instrumental in finding relief from all the stress that
I felt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My time off with each activity
added life to my burning candle and now I feel so ready for Advent and for
celebrating the birth of our Savior.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Next on my list, confession so that my heart is pure to receive the Babe
Jesus. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>In My Shoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468345499538506840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433923404365629101.post-79674352958498538272021-11-15T14:43:00.004-08:002021-11-15T14:43:42.421-08:00Emo Penny<p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">A very buried emo Penny came to the surface and took over my
sunny disposition and this dark reel on repeat consumed my vision for the past eighteen
months.</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">It was weird to get up, even in
ninety-degree weather and feel a clouded heaviness.</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">As most of the world I have been on COVID
survival mode, the change in lifestyle and the consequences of that
unanticipated change have been felt so deeply here.</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">I waited for life to return to normal. In
time, I thought things will go back to life as it was before the epidemic; but,
two years and still wearing a mask on the daily I understand that I can’t put
my life on hold.</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"> </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkwN8Zp8W_JskYqfl7IyzEGS0hmEE8hPtGiwIqmmUdiAXNDkprnRpW1w7at-fxQd3FmVN8CSJtX1G6LTBRDqFErqo3pUcRYSBvnOKtySJflgmRYjorUZvzwzk_pP4y0Q8UCtBeOhXO0PtR/s228/th.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="228" data-original-width="190" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkwN8Zp8W_JskYqfl7IyzEGS0hmEE8hPtGiwIqmmUdiAXNDkprnRpW1w7at-fxQd3FmVN8CSJtX1G6LTBRDqFErqo3pUcRYSBvnOKtySJflgmRYjorUZvzwzk_pP4y0Q8UCtBeOhXO0PtR/w533-h640/th.jpg" width="533" /></a></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">I had a long weekend and while I didn’t do anything Instagram
worthy (if I had an account); I feel so good. A good that I haven’t felt in a
long time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That type of simple goodness
where one wakes up and with no effort hope is present like that MIA student
that hadn’t been on campus during lockdown and now is sitting right before my
eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Penny, I am here and just like that I see the sun coming up
like the most extraordinary sunrise, like a prodigal son, hope returns. Hope is
here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s been awhile in the desert,
but I have caught sight of the coast and I know that my emo slump is reaching a
conclusion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thanks for bearing with me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">It’s no fun feeling a great disconnection from the things
that once brought joy, to feel so far away from God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To have no creative juices left because all
my energy went to surviving my work hours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Sometimes, I forget that I am bipolar – that it’s easy for me to be
depressed because my brain was designed with that malfunction. It’s been awhile
though since I sunk so low and I know the culprit was COVID and all the
unexpected changes, but I feel better now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This long weekend, helped me reenergize and to find the gift of
hope.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It also helped me see how much my
faith has grown because even though I felt so apart from God for so long reason
helped me see beyond my emotions, to see the truth no matter how low I
got.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I guess that’s why they call them
growing pains.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Any who, I know that I am still not fully my cheerful self,
but everyday things are looking up. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>In My Shoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468345499538506840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8433923404365629101.post-69124143036259446012021-11-08T11:06:00.003-08:002021-11-08T11:06:11.375-08:00Protestant Books Folly<p><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Did I ever tell you about the time I gave protestant books
to my priests for Christmas?</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhilRqdvbC5XKAKlNtTzd2XRk4WMSkBdP6EDHsNxrJhJp2QVXPKbyc8Ag_5As9MqmwELFItAvYBE0vwTLELUawAIrCvl_oGNKH7oP0Cp-22SnrBUT2cWMK65CEEQ93WWeRL1ZwlNcGdyGfj/s1920/we.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhilRqdvbC5XKAKlNtTzd2XRk4WMSkBdP6EDHsNxrJhJp2QVXPKbyc8Ag_5As9MqmwELFItAvYBE0vwTLELUawAIrCvl_oGNKH7oP0Cp-22SnrBUT2cWMK65CEEQ93WWeRL1ZwlNcGdyGfj/w640-h360/we.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">I had just returned to the Catholic Church and I was
involved with Jovenes Para Cristo. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
thought what if I buy a great book for each priest and have everyone in the
group sign the card so that it’s a thank you gift from our entire group.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, I got everyone in the group to sign and
put a special message in the three cards.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>At the time I had recently visited the then Crystal Cathedral and found some
great books that I thought would suit each of the priest’s personalities.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To me books have always been the perfect gift
and I was really excited to give a few of the ones that I had read by Robert Schuller,
Chuck Swindoll and Lee Strobel to my parish priests. I wrapped them in pretty
paper, stuck a shiny bow and placed the group signed Christmas cards on each gift
and delivered them to the parish office.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">My heart was excited, thinking that I had done something
meaningful expressing gratitude to service men that often go day by day without
a thank you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When my phone rang and it
was the president of the Jovenes Para Cristo Association, I thought he had
called to tell me that the priests had received their gifts and were warmed by
the thoughtful expression.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">“Penny, did you give our priests protestant books?” The
leader of the group began the conversation in a tone that clearly illustrated
that I had done something wrong.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Instantly I was upset. I didn’t understand the
accusation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just thought of my
intentions and how I just wanted the priests to feel special and valued.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, I told him, “It was a gift, and if the
priests have a problem receiving a gift given with the purest intentions, have
them directly talk to me about it.” He didn’t argue any more when he realized
that I didn’t do it with malice, it was just a matter of ignorance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He let me go, but I still felt upset because I
thought my gift wasn’t well liked instead of it being inappropriate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To me there has never been a bad gift because
I always look at gifts like a little goodness from the giver.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The giver takes time to think of what the
gift will be, personalizing and taking the time to purchase.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then the gift is wrapped and decorated all
while the giver thinks of the reaction the recipient will have.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">Thus, there are no bad gifts- at least not when the
intention is to bring happiness – that is unless you give protestant books to
Catholic priests! I was driving this morning thinking about this incident and
laughing at how many times I was too protestant when I made my return to the
Catholic Church. </span><o:p></o:p></p>In My Shoeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11468345499538506840noreply@blogger.com0