Rollercoaster Weekend

It’s been a bit of a rollercoaster weekend.  It all began with the emotional highs of celebrating my nephew’s 15^th birthday! We celebrated him along with ten of his friends at Fountain Valley Bowl.  The years have gone too quickly, just yesterday I was afraid to hold him in my arms because he was a tiny babe!  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.  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.  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.  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.

Following the mini quinceañera, 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.  It was great to see each other because even now the gatherings are quite scattered and rare.  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.

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.  Vicente Fernandez or “Chente” as many of us affectionally called him had gone on to serande Our Lady of Gudalupe on her day.  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.  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.  We cried like we have never mourned a celebrity while we saw his family and loved ones stand guard at his coffin.  We recalled all those wonderful memories he gave us and the many songs that have nurtured us throughout our years.  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 Cariño), 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.  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.  

   

My Technology Break

For Thanksgiving Break I wanted a break from all technology so forgive me for going MIA for a couple of weeks.  I was tired, burned out from being in front of a screen that as a gift to myself I took some time off.  During that break I did many things that inspired as well as refreshed me.  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.  While the construction continues the abbey is now open to the public!  I was able to see some of the artists working on the murals for each of the chapels.  It was great to be inside and witness how the place of worship slowly comes together.  I can’t wait until the Abbey Church is completed!

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.  I loved feeling like the road was for me only because I got to enjoy the gorgeous Silverado Hills.  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.  I walked very slowly touring the main Church just admiring the architectural design and the work that was slowly underway.  I got to see the dedication chapels blank just holding the name of the saint that would soon be depicted in colors.  It was quite exciting to see that many saints that I hold dear will have a chapel dedicated to them and hold their relics! 

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.  I lost track of time and soon I was praying the Sext along with the Norbertine Fathers and seminarians.  It was such a treat to listen to them chant!

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.  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.  Next on my list, confession so that my heart is pure to receive the Babe Jesus.     

Emo Penny

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.  It was weird to get up, even in ninety-degree weather and feel a clouded heaviness.  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.  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. 

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.  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. 

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.  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.  Thanks for bearing with me.

It’s no fun feeling a great disconnection from the things that once brought joy, to feel so far away from God.  To have no creative juices left because all my energy went to surviving my work hours.  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.  This long weekend, helped me reenergize and to find the gift of hope.  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.  I guess that’s why they call them growing pains.

Any who, I know that I am still not fully my cheerful self, but everyday things are looking up.       

Protestant Books Folly

Did I ever tell you about the time I gave protestant books to my priests for Christmas?

I had just returned to the Catholic Church and I was involved with Jovenes Para Cristo.  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.  So, I got everyone in the group to sign and put a special message in the three cards.  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.  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.

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.  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. 

“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.

Instantly I was upset. I didn’t understand the accusation.  I just thought of my intentions and how I just wanted the priests to feel special and valued.  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.  He let me go, but I still felt upset because I thought my gift wasn’t well liked instead of it being inappropriate.  To me there has never been a bad gift because I always look at gifts like a little goodness from the giver.  The giver takes time to think of what the gift will be, personalizing and taking the time to purchase.  Then the gift is wrapped and decorated all while the giver thinks of the reaction the recipient will have. 

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.

Just a Regular Halloween

Hope you had a Happy Halloween!

After totally passing on it last year, this year I had a little more enthusiasm and mustered an outfit for myself and Francis.  In my thrift escapades I found a small mariachi hat and I thought that Francis would make an adorable charro which he did.  It’s been quite a joy sharing his pictures with my students today and watching their reactions.  A fluffy dog with a hat will make even the most challenging kid smile and break the ice.

I also was able to dress as Jessie from “Toy Story” on Friday to school and the kids had some cute reactions.  I specially loved the reactions from my virtual students as they logged in expecting to see their usually black hair teacher and were surprised to find a red-haired imposter.  Again, I found the Jessie t-shirt and hat at the thrift store and made my wig using red yarn, then I added some calf print fabric to my jeans and it weren’t for my brown skin – you wouldn’t be able to tell us apart.  For both Francis and my costume, I manage to spend less than fifteen dollars and the joy that I got was priceless!

On Halloween Day, we closed our door and turned off our lights, no candy evangelizing this year.  Funny, the year that I don’t participate is the year that I got asked by a priest to share how I celebrate Halloween. He’s trying to get a plan established to get his community to revamp the holiday with saints instead of goblins.  Thus, I had to rely on posts from years past to highlight what I have done to keep my faith on Halloween Day.  Maybe next year, the saint costumes and candy evangelizing will return as now I have a small following of people who are taken by my very Catholic Halloweens.

A Glimpse of Heaven

I love this time of year, even though there are more gray skies the atmosphere seems more joyful.  Or maybe it’s because I enjoy the holidays this season brings.  Starting with Halloween, I love the creativity of transforming myself into a totally different character. Then Thanksgiving Day challenges me to prepare a feast for my family, ending with Christmas and the joy of Jesus’ birthday.  All these great days to plan and look forward to. 

Now, as I have practiced my Catholic faith a bit, I also love this time of the Catholic calendar.  I adore getting to celebrate the lives of so many of the saints that I hold most dear, one right after the other.  Starting with the Saint Therese of Lisieux, the Archangels, our Guardian Angels, Saint Francis of Assisi, Saint John Paul II…  This year I realized that a new saint of my devotion also has a feast day during this time of year, Saint John Capistrano.  Since I spend most of my week in San Juan Capistrano, five minutes away from the basilica I have been drawn to his life most recently.  He also happens to be another Franciscan brother (smile).

Divine Mercy Santuary in Krakow

 

Sometimes, if I have the time I will go over to the basilica and just sit in the beautiful church.  Whether it’s before work or during my lunch - I enjoy the silence and the beauty that surrounds me.  Usually there will only be a few people inside the big space – so I feel like I am at a silent retreat and the church is my private haven.  I am fond of these moments because they keep my flame alive.  I have learned that my relationship with God needs to be fed, it requires more than just my Sunday commitment.  It is when I am most involved in godly things that I find the most peace in my life.  This autumnal season being aware of all the saints we celebrate at this time of year has been such an elevation in spirit.  Some days I still find myself feeling quite anxious and blue – but having little distractions everyday that remind me of people who walked in this world choosing holiness and trusting God is extremely edifying.  Today, we remember the lives of two patron saints of cobblers.  I love shoes and the silliness of having not one, but two patron saints of shoes is quite humorous. 

Every morning, I look forward to discovering what other saints made their way into the calendar at this time of year… For now I am looking forward to all Saints Day, to feel like I did the first time that I visited the Cathedral of Our Lady of Angels and stood in the middle of the life size tapestries of the saints- surrounded by an army of godliness.  A glimpse of heaven.        

My Halloween Spirit

I love Halloween. 

I love all the creativity that comes with celebrating the holiday.  After a couple years of my spirit being dimmed by Covid I am ready to bring out the creative juices and celebrate this year.  My desk at work is already covered in candy skulls and spooky garland.  The search for the perfect Halloween costume for both me and Francis is underway.  It’s exciting looking forward to things that have always given me so much joy because these past few months have just been about survival.

From my first Halloween back in the eighties I was hooked. At the time we were dirt poor to spend money on frivolous things so my mom would make my costumes.  As a child, I dreamed of store-bought costumes, especially when my cousin wore a maid’s outfit and hers was sexy while the one my mom made me was historically appropriate.  I looked at her shiny, short skirt trimmed with lace and her off the shoulder top and compared it my puritan style costume.  Same when we wore nurse outfits, mine was straight out a hospital while my cousin looked hot in hers.  I didn’t realize then, that kids also envied my costumes which weren’t just authentic, they were really nicely made.  In high school, I decided that I wanted to dress as Juliet and my mother again made my beautiful renaissance costume, this time I did hear remarks from other students jealously saying that they would never spend so much money on costumes.  The funny thing is that my costumes were homemade specifically to save money. 

Eventually my mom’s intention to remain authentic to the costume was passed on to me and I realized that I wasn’t the type to use Halloween as a vehicle to trampy.  Halloween was a day I could be anything I wanted to be, even a saint!  So these past years I have mixed my Catholic faith and my love of costumes to educate others (including myself) on the lives of the saints.  This year, I am not sure if I will dress as a saint because in years past I used to go to our Fall Fest at church with my nephew- and he’s a teen now too old to participate. Sigh! However, I still plan to dress up to work staying true to integrity of the character that I will bring to life.     

Rite of Admission

Yesterday, I finally had my Rite of Admission in my Secular Franciscan Order!  After years of being on hold, first because we didn’t have a spiritual director and then because of Covid; I felt like I would never leave limbo.  Many times, I asked God if this path was really what He wanted for me because I felt like the longest person in formation.  Yesterday, when I finally was able to take the next step and participate in the Rite of Admission I was utterly joyful.  I felt the giddiness I felt when I celebrated my First Communion!

The short ceremony was so utterly beautiful.  The communal prayers were wonderful.  Afterward, my fraternity gave me my first wooden Tau cross, the rule and a book to continue guiding my path towards profession.  My sponsor showered me with an exquisite bouquet of roses – there was even a couple of delicious cakes!  I was then hugged and congratulated by every member, I honestly felt like my heart would burst in thanksgiving and joy. 

Lately, I have been struggling with anxiety and the communal rite and celebration gave me so much hope, it was just what I needed.  I realized how much I have missed and needed community during these past months and I am so blessed that I have a spiritual family.  Hopefully, we will continue to meet in person and share special moments.  Even though I know my community is pretty awesome, I was still blown away by their kindness and generosity in making my day so utterly memorable. 

The wait made this moment more special (now I know how Saint Clare felt) and I am so looking forward to my profession and finally joining the Franciscans.  

Thrifted floral dress for the occasion. 

Better Times Ahead

I think during the pandemic I have struggled quite a bit and I am sure you have noticed because I haven’t been writing like usual.  I put so much energy in getting the “must do’s” out of the way that creatively I have suffered.  I also tried to switch medications during this time because Seroquel causes weight gain and I thought I was stable enough to try something with less damaging side effects. The new drug that I tried gave me a great sense of restlessness and after a couple months of trying to see if these feelings would diminished – I returned to my regular meds. 

During this pandemic I have seen many people thrive creatively because at home restrictions have given people the time to do things.  Me? I, am just surviving.  Yet, I am beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel.  I guess for people like me whose quality time is her strongest love language, not being able to see others really messed me up.  However, I am beginning to see more loved ones and to have great conversations and moments that nurture my soul.  My weekly bible study is back in session, my Franciscan group just started meeting in person, there’s more events around my faith that I can start attending and I am back to seeing my faith sisters.  These moments of interaction have been so needed, so healing.  Even so, I still feel quite insecure, but I know that each day I find a little more balance in my life.

In my work, I see a lot of kids with mental disabilities and they are really struggling right now.  Even my coworkers most who don’t have mental illnesses are hurting and I thank God that even though I am bipolar that I am still able to function and help others.  I told one of my kids who has developed quite an attachment to me, that I would be out on Monday because I was going to see a comedian a bit away from my home.  And he was like, “If you are watching the comedian during the weekend why won’t you be here on Monday?”  I laughed and told him I needed a mental day to just relax so that I can be a better teacher.  Last time I was out, he freaked out with the substitute so he appreciated me telling him in advanced.  Being bipolar has given me a better understanding for working with teens with similar issues and lots of patience during this unusual time in education.          

 

This Too Shall Pass

I woke up yesterday thinking it was Saturday! I took out Francis for his morning bathroom routine and made coffee to sit in my favorite yard chair when mom asked, “are you not going in to work today?”  I still felt quite certain my mom had her days wrong and I annoyingly said, “It’s Saturday.” Sure enough, she broke the truth and I had to rush and get ready to make my drive to school…  In my world I constantly hear of peers that are retiring or changing job careers during this pandemic and I keep telling myself keep hustling these next few months – survive things will get better.  We have been told that maybe in January we will go back to complete in person instruction… So, more normal days are in view.

This past week, I took a mental health day because I was seriously so overwhelmed and the next morning I had a message from one of my students asking if I would be at school otherwise he wouldn’t attend.  Aww, he missed me!  Then last week I sacrificed my lunch to have the Student Council students tie dye their shirts and one of them caught me before my next period and said, “Thank you, I really needed that.”  I was going over with a friend how these days I feel so overwhelmed and how these two kids were small victories and she said- just imagine all the ones that feel the same way, but don’t express it. 

I have this perfectionist complex also known as atychiphobia that makes everything so much more challenging because I want everything to go according to my expectation and these days I feel like a failure almost every day because every day things go wrong. The internet goes out, my shared documents don’t work when students try to open, my in-person students are quicker at working than my online and get bored while we wait for everyone to finish, and my discomfort of being in front of a camera hasn’t gotten any better…  I even hate the drive home these days because all of my home exits are under construction so traffic gets really backed up.  At a stretch that should take me ten minutes to travel I average thirty minutes on a good day.

Then I get home and I am fried.  I feel like I use all my creativity to make learning fun that when I get home I just want to sit still. Sure, I see projects that I can do, but sitting still usually wins.  LUCKILY, things are starting to go back to normal and now I can go to weekly Bible study.  Like my student needed that social aspect of tie dying I too need my weekly dose of faith sharing.  It so comforting to be with others and vent in a creative way, not as a form of complaining, but a way to validate that what we are experiencing due to the effects of the pandemic is unprecedented.  I find comfort in being reminded that I haven’t lost anyone close due to the virus, that I still have a job and all my basic necessities are met and that this too shall pass…

Discerment

 I went on a half day discernment retreat this past Saturday.  Though the discernment was about whether I want to continue in the Franciscan path, I was able to think about my vocation.  I am single, been so for most of my life, but I do want to get married and have children.  I was telling my sponsor that weddings don’t make me jealous, what does cause a tingle of envy in me are baby showers.  When I attend baby showers I feel like there’s a joy that I might never experience and sometimes I feel this sadness inside my heart.

My sponsor said that maybe I am called to motherhood and that unsettling feeling is just a push from the Holy Spirit.  I told her my child bearing years are coming-to-a-close and that I might never fulfil that desire.  Then she told me that she didn’t get pregnant until ten years after she was married at the age of forty-three. Having her son was one of the happiest moments of her life especially after waiting for him for so long.  Not wanting to have an only child she and her husband adopted a daughter.  I needed her testimony because when I put limitations on God, He is full of surprises and the stories of others help me see that the world is full of His miracles.

Lately, I have been so focused on my job because it tends to pull all of me towards it.  I mean I work with students that need me and I can get so consumed by that need that I forget there are other areas of my life.  Then with the drastic effects of Covid I feel so utterly guzzled up that I have little energy for anything else.  After a day of hectic hybrid teaching I just want to vegetate in front of my TV to drown my thoughts with doggy smooches - no longer be on call to anyone. Even then, my phone will beep with a message from one or two students who need help.  I didn’t think it would take only two years for me to feel so burned out!

Yet, feeling so utterly consumed by my job, I realize that while I love my job (most days) I would give it up in a minute if I was given the opportunity to be a wife and a mother.  After God granting me what I asked him for, with this job I realized that there might be a another calling for me because deep in me I desire a family of my own.  I am not sure how this will come to fruition, me being such an introvert, but I know that God laughs in the face of impossibility.               

New Experiences

I took my nephew to his first day of high school this past week.  He was so nervous he skipped breakfast and when I asked him about his first day, he told me that he couldn’t find the cafeteria and his little group of friends all went without lunch or water.  The following day when I dropped him off, I told him, “I can’t believe that you and your friends, who are in the smartest classes, couldn’t figure out how lunch works.  Today, jokingly ask the teacher if Freshman are meant to starve and to be so weak by the last period that concentration is impossible from going without lunch. Be the hero for your friends and ask the teacher so that you all get fed.”  That was a good segue into new experiences causing high anxiety.  I shared with him, how every time I start a new class I always feel super nervous, but then after a few days it becomes the new norm and my nerves leave me.  Teachers are as nervous as the students I told him, so just keep that in mind that you are not alone in your uneasiness the first few days of school.  The second day report was a lot better they all ate and he was able to enjoy his classes.

Seeing my nephew so nervous as he started a completely new school – bigger- a whole new world, it comforted me because new experiences are tough!  And I think as we get older we can beat ourselves up for feeling anxious and so out of control with new things.  It’s like just because we aged we now have to be comfortable in all situations without nerves.  This week I started teaching a new class and I was so nervous because it was my first time teaching in a hybrid format.  Normally I have my virtual and in person kids at different appointments, but as our school works at getting all students back in person now direct instruction has to be hybrid with virtual and in person students together at the same time.  All week my anxiety was to through roof because I have to lead and in my mind I was thinking how much the kids would hate it because I hate teaching in this format.  Yet, my nephew taught me that even though I am the teacher I am allowed to make mistakes and be super nervous because I am human.  And it’s perfectly human to feel so utterly out-of-control-nervous when trying new things.

I think as I age, the anxiety will try to get the best of me.  It will try to get me to avoid new experiences, but if I push through those uncomfortable feelings I can grow and learn.  I might even discover new things I enjoy.  

   

Check In

How are you doing?

I feel like I am drifting away, like this whole pandemic has cut the cord to my deep connection with the faith community.  My belief is still strong, but I do miss my weekly encounters with people that shared my passion for God.  These days I spend more time with people that don’t share the same faith and it’s hard not feeling like the odd girl out. 

Did you watch the new episode of “The Bachelor” or “Saving Sunset” or “The Real Housewives”?  “No to all of the above,” I say, “I like shows that make me feel good about myself and those reality TV Shows really don’t inspire goodness in me.”  Then the conversation goes dead and I feel like the oddest person alive because I prefer historical drama, PBS or Mastery Theatre shows.  I mean even in the superficiality of conversation I still have a difficult time finding common ground.

I think of Saint Francis and the various people that he spoke with and I know that I need to improve, but it so helps when one has a physical community to belong to.  A place that takes all the weirdos like me.  I miss having those avenues like my Bible Studies, Extension Learning, Theology on Tap and the many other social events that I used to attend with the various church groups in my area.  Being weird was easier then because I had a refuge to go to where my beliefs were validated. 

“O, Divine Master, Grant that I may not so much seek // To be consoled as to console // To be understood as to understand // To be loved as to love…”

I forget that I am not the center and it’s not always about me, and that’s why I continue to live wanting wholeheartedly to imitate Saint Francis to be more like Him and less like me.

Let Us Pray

Sometimes I get really discouraged about the future.  The most popular answer among the student population that I work with when asked: what do you want to be when you grow up? Is the next influencer or gamer.  No one wants a noble, traditional profession – now it’s about fame and money.  That’s what motivates todays youth.  I get discouraged because while my nephew actually wants to be an anesthesiologist (today), he still doesn’t see the need for God.  I usually am the one that tells his parents when it’s time for the Sacraments and these past few months trying to get them to agree to send my nephew to catechism has been met with numerous excuses.  “I’m not going, I don’t believe in that stuff.” “How can I force him to go when he doesn’t believe?”

I get frustrated because we raised a child who thinks that God and His Church is irrelevant.  Of course, I am not the parent and have tried in my own way to help him providing answers to all the questions that baffle him about the faith and dispute arguments like alien civilizations killing God, among other gnarly things he picks up from Reddit.  Yet, I find myself in the court alone as his parents are more focused on academics and what my nephew voices, then how much an encounter with God would change his life.

Sometimes, I get so discouraged, but then I think of my own conversion story.  I left the church and eventually was led back.  Maybe the same can happen to him, so while my actions are being met to deaf ears, my prayers will have to do.  Just like my mother prayed for me to find my way to God, I too must rely on that- even when I am so inclined to action.       

Covid and Agoraphobia

I don’t know about you, but trying to live life with a sense of normalcy has been such a challenge after such a long period of quarantine.  Sometimes I feel quite agoraphobic because I have difficulty motivating myself to do things outside my home.  While in-person Mass has been reinstated my normal Bible study groups still for the most part have either continue meeting virtually or not at all.  Though there are some benefits to meeting virtually, I miss the side conversations that I use to have with members from my Franciscan fraternity.  I miss my Monday night weekly study, luckily the Rise women’s monthly meetings have started to be back in person and they truly are food for my soul.  My Master Catechesis Certificate program has also been on hold…

Yet, as things start opening back up, I have difficulty getting myself motivated enough to leave my house.  Sometimes, it’s a couple months before I hit the dog park because I struggle with leaving my house.  I still haven’t gotten my visiting the Blessed Sacrament routine down because I get home from work and I am so accustomed to my home environment being “it” that leaving it again is sometimes quite impossible.  Through my Facebook page I see friends going out and enjoying integrating back into society, it looks like so much fun, but come the weekend and all I want to do is be home.

I have started to do things outside my house a little more, but I struggle with my mind still being trapped in quarantine mentality.  I have shared this with other friends and it seems like it’s normal to feel unmotivated to leave the house because for over a year that was all we were able to do.  I’m hoping that soon I can start making plans to travel and continue challenging myself to get back integrated into society overcoming my new anxiety.

Mexican-American

I purposely wear Mexican ethnic clothes to work to show the students the beauty of our culture.  I know that many, during the difficult high school years, tend to shun away speaking the language or having any semblance of pride in their roots- so what I hope is to show the kids that being who you are is ok.  After wearing a woven tunic that I recently purchased in Mexico, a student came the following week wearing a sarape sack.  She pridefully showed it to me and said, “Look, Ms. Penny do you like my new bag?  I got it over the weekend.” This prompted a discussion on the beauty of ethnic fashion.  I told her how Frida Kahlo loved wearing cultural outfits because her husband Diego Rivera had a weakness for that style.

I was sharing this story with a group of my closest Mexican friends and they told me quite frankly that ethnic clothes do not make me Mexican and in fact that they have never seen me as Mexican, but mostly like someone who has blended into the American culture.  This was a bit of a slap in the face because I was born in Mexico and I thought that was enough to identify me as Mexican, but because I left as a child and have lived most of my life here- my Mexican friends think I have lost my Mexicaness.  When speaking to American friends they of course see me as Mexican, thus I am back where I have always been: too Mexican to be American and too American to be Mexican.  Luckily, I still don’t identify as Latinx or else they would be right (smile) and I would definitely no longer be Mexican.

They even brought up my citizenship- I told them I had dual citizenship, but even so they think the American citizenship outweighs my Mexican nationality.  In wearing typical clothes my aim is not to claim Mexicaness, my desire is simply to spotlight the beauty of my roots and in doing so giving others the space to find pride in their own roots.  For me, my cultural identity has given me the greatest joy.  It sucks that I am at the age that I am and I am still hearing the same arguments that used to make my skin boil.  However, in the end I think I need to start embracing my chameleon skin, one that is a blend of Mexican and American and though my weakness is to the place I was born – I do love the country that has allowed me to fly and make my dreams beautiful realities, but just to please people I guess I need to start answering the identity question as, “I, Penny am Mexican-American” because I don’t fly solo anymore according to the mainstream friends (LOL).          

What Dreams May Come

A person can have multiple dreams… 

I love my job, just like some students don’t thrive in traditional school some teachers also need a different teaching platform to succeed.  Until, I landed my job I didn’t know schools like mine existed -where much of the learning happens in independent study.  I usually have five hour-and-a-half appointments with groups of about six students at the time, during this time I administer tests, answer questions, instruct and build rapport with my kids. Then I teach one or two English classes the traditional way each semester.  This format really works for me because I work daily very closely with a small number of students at a time and then I only need to prep for teaching two classes the traditional way with ten or more students in it.  For someone with bipolar the low student count has been such a blessing not only in the regular classroom, but daily with my student appointments.  Yes, the majority of my students are credit deficient due to poor choices or mental disabilities, but I love encouraging them and celebrating each victory because they are not used to succeeding.  Being bipolar and having to put on hold my teaching dream also makes me relate to my students and I am just so thankful that God gave me this opportunity.

While I love what I do for a living, I do have other dreams.  I would love to get married and start a family.  I think sometimes people think that just because a person can love her job- that means that no more dreams are able to continue to take place in her being.  However, I also try to live in the moment and right now I have this job where I serve teens that are struggling and I try to be a light in their path guiding them to better pastures.  Yet, the fact that I feel so blessed (after ten years of putting my dream on hold for health reasons) doesn’t mean that I am not a multi-faceted person with more dreams to bring to fruition.  I am like a diamond with many sides and each side has a dream to come.  Yet, while I work and pray for those other goals I also am enjoying the phase that I am at right now.          

Encouragement is A Two-Way Street

Encouragement is a two-way street.  These past couple of weeks at work have been super stressful as I get used to my new routine as a hybrid teacher. Now more than ever I struggle going from an in-person period to a virtual one.  My anxiety has been a huge struggle because I tend to have issues with being in control and right now flipping from one mode of teaching to another without a break to gather my bearings has been extremely challenging.  I kept asking my fellow teachers if they felt equally stressed to gage whether what I am feeling comes from the job or if I’m having severe anxiety again.  Their validation gave me hope that once I get used to my new normal, my anxiety will calm.  Then on Thursday our principal surprised us a basket of snacks to help us get through our first whole week of the grind.  That action immediately gave me a feeling of being appreciated, helped with anxiety and encouraged me to keep going. 

I am constantly trying to find ways to motivate my students (many who struggle with mental disabilities) and there are times that I also need to be encouraged too.  I think most of us appreciate having a cheerleader on our team now and then.  Most of the time I try to take that role, but when I step away and it seems like I am no longer doing it it’s because I probably need you to encourage me.  That’s why I feel so blessed to work at my school where we are small enough to be able to work in a way where we feel like a team switching roles between encouraging and receiving encouragement.

Every morning I try to encourage myself by praying in the morning and then listening to Relevant Radio on the way to work. I remind myself that God loves me unconditionally and that whatever size my problems might be, God is bigger.    

On Baptism

For the longest time, I struggled with being wrong because I had this notion of perfectionism.  This need for things to be perfect many times made my life extremely difficult because I felt like I couldn’t make a mistake, being wrong brought so many feelings of shame.  I still notice this mind block in many areas of my life.  Recently, I have noticed a greater confidence in speaking with strangers about my faith, something that I was afraid to do because I didn’t want to provide the wrong information or be stumped unable to answer a question. Yet, as I work with students who have the same issues as I do and as I find myself telling them that mistakes help us grow and they aren’t failures if we learn from them- I know that I need to practice what I teach.

Batismal font, place where Juan Diego was baptized.

So, when I went to dinner for a friend’s birthday and was sitting next to my friend’s aunt and her cousin who were animatedly perplexed about a person close to them who was Catholic and was going to baptize his infant son I decided to join the conversation to offer a Catholic perspective.  The aunt explained that infant baptisms were wrong because the child didn’t have the ability to chose Jesus as his Lord and Savior.  I explained how good parents often make choices for children without their consent knowing that it’s in the best interest of the child.  I also explained how we are creatures of God and when we are baptized we become sons and daughters of God- this means that we join God’s family.  Thus, baptism also joins us to the community and community is needed for our sanctification.  In community we will grow up in faith and in our relationship with God.

My friend’s aunt was stumped by having met with a Catholic who knows her faith and quickly went on to change the conversation, but I noticed that the cousin was relieved because she had been raised Catholic and now was protestant- but her family is still Catholic.  And the person who was going to baptize their son was her brother.  I felt in the conversation she got some level of understanding that Catholicism is ok because she was being pressured to talk to her brother on the subject.  Now having a better understanding of the sacrament, she felt her brother’s choice wasn’t sacrilegious and I saw some ease come over her.  The conversation also showed me that I am better versed in my faith then I give myself credit for and while I might get stumped with a question – I can use those moments when I am wrong or don’t know the answer as moments to learn and grow.        

Taking A Risk: Speaking About My Faith

Most of the time feel like I am the least qualified person to speak about the Catholic faith.  Always afraid of being a heretic, I try not to write about doctrine I try to just share my personal story.  During my trip to Mexico, we were in a small tour bus with people from all over the world, since we were going to visit the Shrine of Our Lady of Guadalupe there were some conversations about Catholicism among the group members, mainly among the non-Catholic folk.  I sat in my seat eavesdropping curious to hear different point of views.  A historian from the states was the most vocal.  He kept asking these two girls a bunch of questions on purgatory and indulgences and when the girls were unable to answer, satisfied he would say, “There’s so much I don’t understand about the Catholic Church as a Christian man.”  After hearing him go on and on about the absurdity of the Catholic faith and the great satisfaction he got from no one being able to give him insight into my faith, I finally decided that I would speak to him. 

On our last stop in Coyoacan when we were walking towards the Frida Kahlo museum I went over introduced myself and said, “Hey, I heard that you have some questions about the Catholic faith and I would love to give you some insight from the perspective of a practicing Catholic, while I might not have all the answers that you are looking for, I think that I can clear doubts on both purgatory and indulgences for you.”

My statement left him speechless and while I thought he would be open for ecumenical dialogue, he shut down my offer and said that he has a history teacher and knew all he needed to know about Catholicism.  Then he went on to mention his credentials as a way to intimidate me.  I told him I was also a teacher and like him I worked with high school students and also taught theology to adults hoping to join the Catholic Church.  He then went on to praise me as his tactic to get me as far away from a religious conversation as he could…  I was disappointed that he treated me with such disregard after being so lively in his interactions with everyone else on the tour who couldn’t defend our faith.  I realized then that he didn’t want to learn, but rather got satisfaction and a sense of superiority by speaking to people about his erroneous views.  Yet, inside my heart was a smile because I put myself out there to teach another outside of my RCIA classroom.  I think it must have been the fruits of seeing my Lupita.     

Traveling with a Non-Catholic Guide

Recently, I traveled to Mexico (with my siblings) to visit Our Lady of Guadalupe at her home, due to Covid it felt like a doctor’s visit as we were in and out without being able to go inside either of the basilicas.  We were able to walk the outside grounds which have a lot of Catholic history and pass in front of the tilma, yet I was hoping we would be able to go inside be there for mass or at least a good hour of personal prayer while I took in the image of Our Lady.  To add to our unsuccess we had a tour guide who wasn’t Catholic and he rushed us through the tour, at a point saying, “you guys are probably so sick of churches by now.”  I am used to going to on Catholic led tours and this one totally felt different. I felt misunderstood in my desire to slow down and let me soak in the blessed ground that I was walking though.  I wanted a long moment in a pew, to just be.  Yet, with Covid limited access, I had to make the best of my short moment with Lupita.

I thought of the many pilgrims that come on this journey and are rushed with a non-Catholic guide and I realize that the shrine can become just a tourist destination with no substance.  Just another place to take a picture at and cross off of the bucket list.  Yet, to me and my siblings Our Lady of Guadalupe was the reason we made the trek to Mexico City.  We were so thirsty for faith, so in need of the most powerful intercessor in addition to wanting to leave our burdens at the altar of Jesus.  This past year of isolation has taken a toll on each of us and we were hoping to go and be with our Mother as she led us closer to Jesus.  While I didn’t get my time to sit in a pew or to even see the basilicas from the inside up close, the trip did ignite that flame in me that was growing fainter by the day.  During the entire trip I kept a close conversation with Lupita and I feel close to Jesus again.  I am inspired to continue trying to live a holy life.

It was also interesting to travel with a non-Catholic guide because I got a different perspective from the way that I usually look at things.  I got to see how some Mexicans are extremely proud of their indigenous roots, of the ancient civilizations, languages and cultures that intermingle in our history.  Our guide’s passion was evident at Teotihuacan, the site of Sun and Mood Pyramids- I think he cut the basilica short because he had so much more to say about the pyramids and its ancient people.  He was particular ticked off that some Catholic Churches, like the one was legend has it that Juan Diego was baptized, were made from pieces of the pyramids.  He also got offended when I asked which temple was used for sacrifices and gave me a long lecture on the “non-History-Channel” truth as he called it.  I realized that in his mind the Church was what ended the ancient civilizations…

When I saw the tilma of Our Lady of Guadalupe I also asked him why it was so big since I thought it would be smaller. I was like, “Why is it so big if Juan Diego was an indigenous and probably not that tall?” And our guide just whispered something under his breath and never gave me an answer.  It was only until mom reminded me of how indigenous people used their tilmas to carry items folding them to make them into a large pouch that would support the loads they carried- that I understood its size.  Any who, I learned that in the future I will stick to my Catholic led pilgrimages (smile).