Grandma & Me Sunbathing

Am back from a two week visit to my grandma in Michoacán, Mexico.  I hadn’t been back to the town that gave me life and nurtured me until the age of seven- for over sixteen-years.  Usually my grandma would come visit us in California, but recently she took a bad fall and I believe her traveling days are over – so it was my turn to visit.  I remembered my pueblo bigger than it is even though it has grown quite a bit since I last was there.  In my day, our house served dual purposes: our living quarters and a large, back corral where we kept our animals.  As I toured my old home my memories seemed bigger than the tiny house that housed me throughout infancy.  I felt a bit claustrophobic which conflicted with the wonderful memories that I have of my farmhouse.  I think it’s because the town has grown, we used to be the edge of town –  “la orilla” walking outside was like walking into a huge forest of a yard.  Now nature has been pushed out and our house got sucked into the expansion of the pueblo- placing us in the middle away from the beginning of the “cerro.” 

With all the changes, it was comforting that my grandma’s house remained better than I remembered.  One morning she told me how she and grandpa purchased the house one piece at a time.  It was just one room and each year if the crop did well, they added another room- until it became the four-bedroom home that stands today.  Grandma is such a great storyteller that I could see her pride as each room was added to her humble home.  “At first we didn’t have a whole lot of money, and I always loved flowers so I would go to the forest and bring wild flowers to plant in the garden,” she added, “I knew which grew best each season so I would pick different types depending on the season.”  The house is sectioned in a manner that leaves a large middle area exposed to nature, here she spends most of her days surrounded by flowers that from the moment she made the house her home she’s cultivated.  All sorts of colorful blooms fill her days.  It was also in this tiny paradise that I spent most of my days with her.

After the first week, I sprained my ankle on a step outside grandma’s bedroom door and on doctor’s orders I was forced to rest.  Though I thought that the immobility would hinder the enjoyment of my trip- it forced me to slow down and find pleasure as an invalid.  Next to grandma’s wheelchair I would too be parked with my foot set up high on a cushion each day and every day time travel so fast as the two of us enjoyed her blooming paradise.  We had time to chat, to lunch, to be together in silence, to pray the rosary, to welcome visitors, to laugh and just enjoy each other.  I had intentions of visiting more surrounding towns, but God had other plans – He used my injury to allow my grandma and I to hangout way more than we would have- had I use of both of my feet.  And while I will most likely get more opportunities to travel to places that will remain there- those days with my grandma were the true gift.  

Beginning of Lent Much Lighter

I love my black hair mainly because it's low maintenance, but recently my hair started sprouting grays- which complicates the low care I usually give it.  Some women love getting pampered, getting their hair done, getting pedis and manis; but I hate going into the salon. The whole process stresses me out: having someone touch me in usually areas not commonly touched like my head and toes, I loathe the awkward small talk, but most of all I hate being in a chair in a public place unable to do much for so long usually bored out of my mind.  You see my hair - which today someone asked me if it was a wig- was placed on my head to get me to heaven.  Yes, it's that much of pest that silently wreaks havoc.  Now you think, Penny likes to add sauce to her tacos when she speaks, and yes, sometimes I can be a bit of a writing drama-queen- believe me that there's not an ounce of exaggeration to the above statement.

I was blessed as a baby to be born with a head full of hair, ringlets my mom likes to remember.  As I have matured, I continue to be blessed with a head of thick hair, so thick that if it grows past a certain length it gives me headaches.  That's how I know when I need to go to the salon- I start getting pressure headaches that if not attended turn into migraines- and those are no fun.  An aside, recently I read the story of King David's beautiful son, Absalom, who had so much hair that when he cut it off, it weighed five pounds!  I am no wicked warrior, I can't carry all that plumage!  

Blessed are the stylist, they know how to thin my hair when I go in to get my haircut; not only do they cut it, they also have this really clever way to strip me of some density (smile).  I have recently started getting headaches, so I knew I had to make time to go get it cut.  Yesterday, after Mass with a dark cross on my forehead I headed to the salon to do penance.  Normally, I like to keep my hair black because it's natural and easy to maintain- but oh, the woes of getting older -the beginning of gray hairs.  A girl more humble than me would wear those white streaks with pride, yet I have decided to battle those grays or at least make them a little easier on the eyes so I thought that I would go with a lighter shade of hair color.  After five hours, that's right five hours of one stylist working with me I came out lighter in every sense of the word.

Some women love getting pampered, I enjoy a different type of pampering like a warm chair in sunlight with a good book.  Yesterday, I figured I would dedicate the half wasted day as a prayer offering and I took the hair pulling, coloring, burning dryer, cold washing, more hair pulling as a champ.  I even prayed three rosaries while I sat uncomfortably long in a chair.  Take that gray hairs!  I know they will return, those sneaky foes, but now my hair is a little lighter hopefully they will blend in better.  That's how I began my Lent, fasting while suffering for hours in a salon chair.  I know that I added a little comedy into my experience, but I am learning that all suffering can be an offering to God.  And this season is about that - denying ourselves so that God can come in to areas of our beings where he had not been welcomed- like the hair salon.  Pretty neat theology, I say! Happy beginning of Lent, a time of penance, abstinence and almsgiving.  

Passing the Light of Mother Mary

Before returning to my faith, I suffered from terrible night terrors.  There were nights when I would have such horrible dreams that I felt paralyzed unable to scream or move to force myself to wake up.  All sorts of scary things made sleeping anything, but enjoyable.   Thus, when I found a beautiful, vintage, porcelain Mother Mary nightlight during one of my thrifting adventures, I was thinking what a great find. Mother Mary’s literal light to keep me safe.  Yet, last week I realized that the nightlight was not meant for me she wanted to bring peace to someone that is currently having difficulty sleeping.  Thus, I gifted her to a woman whose twenty-nine-year marriage came to an end due to her husband’s infidelity. 

It’s funny how God places people in our paths that need our help. I was early waiting for a class to start and a woman sat next to me.  She was with heavy heart and needed someone to listen.  I smiled at her when she sat next to me, which encouraged her to begin talking to me.  She asked me how I was doing and I told her that I was a little sad because I had lost my dog.  We talked about losing pets and then she unveiled her woes to me.  She told me that she was trying to keep it together because only a month ago she discovered that her husband had another woman and two little children from this relationship.  “He has another family,” she cried.  “He’s been involved with her for at least four years since his kids are three and two.  He travels for work you see and at first he would be gone only a couple days a week, but lately he had been gone three even four days a week, but I didn’t think anything of it because we had been married for so long, I trusted him…” She continued telling me the shattered state of her heart and I was really not sure what to say, so I just listened.  When she was done, she thanked me for not offering any advice, “you know everyone has an opinion of what I should do, how I should feel, whether I should try to salvage my marriage or make him pay… In times like these I don’t want people’s input- I just want support…”

I don’t recall offering a word of consolation, I didn't have any, but when she finished and wiped her eyes, she thanked me for listening.  She just needed someone to listen without offering any advice.  During her narrative she shared that she had trouble sleeping and hated the nights.  While I don’t have any experienced being betrayed, I do know what is like to hate the closing of a day.  Anyone who suffers or has suffered from depression can tell you that the nights are the worst!  Being alone in the darkness with your thoughts, unable to sleep can be one of worst tortures.  Thus, I knew that Mother Mary wanted to light her nights, she didn’t want me to keep her in case one night I might need her.  Mother Mary wanted me to pass her on to someone who needed her light right now.  So, I placed my nightlight in a small gift bag and gave it to the woman the following week.  She was so happy that she would no longer go to a dark, empty house- Mother Mary would be waiting for her to get her through the difficult night.  It’s funny how God will place in our path people who are suffering worse, others we can help and by helping them we are also helping ourselves.