"Never Live A Life of Regrets" I have often heard people say along with "Move Forward and Never Look Back." That saying is so much easier said than done. I believe that in order to move forward you sometimes have to look back so you know how you want to shape your future and how you don't want to end up again.
What happens though when your past is so much simpler, so much more wonderful than your present? What happens when you want to grab those you love now and take them back in time? I love the family that I have been given in this lifetime. I love those who God has entrusted me to hold dear to my heart. However I feel like my past holds so much more than I ever was grateful for and if I could go back in time I would cherish it with all of my being.
You see there isn't a day in my life that I don't look back at my past and miss those who have gone on to be with Jesus way before I was ready to let go. Then there are days like today when my heart aches, the tears freely flow, and I find myself trying to pick up the pieces of my soul. I miss my momma, my grandpa, their siblings, and above all I miss my sweet Kimberly June.
I find myself at times still wanting to pick up the phone and call my momma (my grandmother) and ask her so many things. 10 years later and I still don't know how to let go. When I hurt for my Kimberly June I hurt for my momma too. I am always reminded that she knew my pain well and I would give anything to ask her questions, something I should have done years ago, like how did she deal with the death of her daughter? How did she learn to let go? How did she deal with her pain and her tears? When I think of all this I am saddened because she was my everything and now that I need her the most she is not here.
Life isn't fair and sometimes it is cruel. I sometimes find myself going back in time in my mind, a time when life was so awesome (even though I did not realize it), and trying hard to conjure up the memories that are embedded deep within me. I remember a life of simpler times and days filled with love and joy.
I remember Sunday Barbeque's, Holiday Feasts, and Birthday Parties all kicked off by first a family prayer (my family consisted of my aunts, uncles, and tons of cousins) then laughter, love, and pure joy. I can see in my mind also ordinary days when everything went like clockwork and ended just the same. Those days I miss the most. Those are the days when my momma would always hold me, kiss me, and even when I was in my early 20s and I outweighed her by at least 100 lbs she always had me sit on her lap and each time we would burst out loud in laughter.
Yes my heart aches and as I write this now I cannot stop the tears from flowing. We weren't rich and by all means we were technically poor but what we shared in that pink little house in the middle of 6th street was something that money couldn't buy and more valuable than gold. My main regret is that I didn't realize just how rich of a life I really had back then. If I could go back in time and talk to myself I would tell myself to stop being sad for what I didn't have and to cherish what I was truly blessed with. I would then apologize to my grandparents for making their lives hell especially during my teen years and assure them that none of what I was going through was their fault. I would come home early so my momma wouldn't stay awake all night worrying, I would stay home more instead of always partying, and I would hug and kiss both of them way more than I actually did.
God gives us many blessings in this lifetime but the one gift that many of us wish for the most is one of the things that we cannot have and that is the gift of going back in time. This is the main reason that I believe that I cannot live a life without regrets because I carry them with me each day but by the same token this is also the reason that I believe that we have to look towards our past at times in order to move forward.
Life is a gift and one that we cannot even get a second of it back. Therefore I look towards my past to move on. My past shaped and molded me into who I am today. Everything from my childhood, to losing my grandparents, and even losing my Kimberly June has helped me form my own journey. It is for this reason that I want to try and recreate my past to a point and share it with my children. I want them to be filled with lots of memories of love, joy, and happiness. No I am not my momma but I am a product of her raising and though I cannot exactly replicate her ways I can take them and incorporate them into my own. If I leave this world tomorrow and my children can remember me showering them with love then I have accomplished my mission as their mother. After all love really does have the power to conquer all.
Monday, October 15, 2012
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Where "We" First Began
Sometimes in life we come across people who are destined to change our lives forever. I was luckily enough to meet my special person years ago while working at a call center. I first laid eyes on Jay one night in January when he came to our team fresh out of training. Never in a million years did I even think that I was seeing the man who later on I would marry.
I worked the overnight shift at Sears and I had many guy friends that I would talk to and hang out with. I remember one night when one of my team managers Carol told us that we would be getting a new person on our team and she said "Nelda you are not allowed to date him". I didn't date many of my coworkers but I had gone out with a couple of them and I did have a lot of male friends. Which on a different note was new to me since I was so quiet in high school and didn't have very many besides my male best friend back then.
When I first met Jay I remember how the sheer size of him was overwhelming. His 6'1" compared to my 5'1" frame made him look like a giant. And then I noticed his ear piercings and his pierced labret and how he was covered in what seemed like thousands of freckles. No he wasn't my type I immediately thought.
Jay was very quiet at work so I really didn't know him much other than our usual "hellos". Then one day I was talking to a coworker and she told me how she was giving him a ride home everyday even though it was out of her way. I immediately told her that he wasn't out of my way so I would offer him a ride. From that day forward I realized that Jay was different than what he appeared to be. I got to know a side of him that I wasn't sure he let anyone else know. I enjoyed our rides home everyday and I enjoyed the company.
That was in January and February then March came. My grandmother died in the beginning of March and my whole life changed with her dying breath. The home that I had grown to love was no longer my home and I had to find a new one. I took a month off of work to gather myself and I eventually found an apartment in San Antonio close to my job. I had never lived by myself and it was scary, exciting, and I was extremely lonely.
When I returned to Sears after my month long mini vacation, if you can even call it that, Jay was there and we talked and he told me how he had missed me and had wondered where I had been. I started giving him rides home again even though he was now out of my way. I had taken the bus for so long before getting my car that I couldn't think of making him continue to take the bus which would take over an hour to get him home when I could get him there in 10 minutes. Little by little he started coming over to my apartment after work and eventually he would stay over.
We would go out and have so much fun on our days off and party until literally the sun came up. I would go to work hung over, on zero sleep, always with a giant coffee mug to help get me through. Yet I would do the very same thing day after day. Looking back I don't know where I got my energy but it would be nice to get some of that back.
Jay would continue to stay over and I remember asking him one night to move in with me then I remember him clearly telling me "No" how he thought that it wasn't a good idea. However we look back and laugh at it now because he never went home.
My husband got me through the worst time in my life. Losing my grandmother was unbearable. I had always thought that the day she would die that I would go too because I would have nothing left to live for. Jay gave me a reason to live.
Don't get me wrong he wasn't perfect. He had his own demons to deal with. When I first met him he was angry at the world and angry at women in general. He had a quick temper and a fierce one at that. When he would yell it was like a lion roaring and you would just stand back frozen in fear. But I saw a side of him worth saving. A side of him that no one else saw. A side of him that I knew was buried deep under all of the anger and the animosity. Feeling like the black sheep throughout my life and how my grandmother had never given up on me I knew that I couldn't write him off like the rest of the world had. I knew that underneath all of that anger lied a child of God who needed someone just to understand.
Many times we would argue but after our arguments we would talk it out and I would get him to open up about where the anger really originated from. Most of it stemmed from his childhood, some of it came from the relationship that he had just gotten out of with his ex, and alot had to do with his little girl that he was missing, the baby that he left behind when he moved out when he left his ex.
Little by little he began to really trust me and he slowly realized that I would in no way hurt him intentionally as so many had in the past. That is when our relationship started to flourish. It took a year before our relationship went from being roommates to being a couple. So many times throughout that first year of us living together he was the only one there for me when I needed someone the most. I remember how he would climb in bed with me when I was crying and hurting over my loss and just hold me until I fell asleep. His strong arms would cradle my body while I sobbed uncontrollably and he would tell me how everything would be okay.
I realize now that God sent him to me because we were two hurting souls in this world and yet we both had exactly what the other person needed. As different as we are we balance each other out and bring out the best in each other. One thing we have always noticed is how when one of us is upset or depressed the other of us is there to support us. We are never depressed or upset at the same time except for when we lost our sweet Kimberly June but that is another story. We are always strong for the other and just about always have the right things to say.
Our marriage isn't perfect because trust me we have overcome so many obstacles that would have torn many marriages apart. Yet it is our faith in the vows that we took and the faith in our family and in each other that keeps us together. I consider marriage to be a very sacred vow and not something that I entered into lightly. Marriage to me is the utmost gift God can bestow upon us and blesses us with an eternal companion.
Jay is part of me and I am part of him together we are one. God has blessed me with someone that throughout the years has flourished into this brand new man and every day I see it with our children. He is the part of me that I am proud of and love beyond myself. He is not perfect but neither am I and I am happy that he is all mine.
I am glad for the trials and tribulations that we have endured because it is our journey, our own personal story, and it has been an uphill battle yet we are still surviving and thriving. Life has thrown so many things our way but somehow we gather the strength to continue to battle them out together versus battling it out on our own. It is neither him nor I it is US. We are a team worth fighting for and I take pride in how we have come out the other end a bit torn up around the edges but stronger for it deep within the heart. I love my husband and I thank God everyday for bringing him into my life.
No I never in my wildest dreams did I ever think I would fall in love with the man with freckles, ear piercings, and a pierced labret but I am ever so thankful that I did. I am even more thankful that he saw beyond my imperfections and loved me for who I was then and still loves me for who I am today. God is good. I just had to wait on his timing which is always perfect.
I worked the overnight shift at Sears and I had many guy friends that I would talk to and hang out with. I remember one night when one of my team managers Carol told us that we would be getting a new person on our team and she said "Nelda you are not allowed to date him". I didn't date many of my coworkers but I had gone out with a couple of them and I did have a lot of male friends. Which on a different note was new to me since I was so quiet in high school and didn't have very many besides my male best friend back then.
When I first met Jay I remember how the sheer size of him was overwhelming. His 6'1" compared to my 5'1" frame made him look like a giant. And then I noticed his ear piercings and his pierced labret and how he was covered in what seemed like thousands of freckles. No he wasn't my type I immediately thought.
Jay was very quiet at work so I really didn't know him much other than our usual "hellos". Then one day I was talking to a coworker and she told me how she was giving him a ride home everyday even though it was out of her way. I immediately told her that he wasn't out of my way so I would offer him a ride. From that day forward I realized that Jay was different than what he appeared to be. I got to know a side of him that I wasn't sure he let anyone else know. I enjoyed our rides home everyday and I enjoyed the company.
That was in January and February then March came. My grandmother died in the beginning of March and my whole life changed with her dying breath. The home that I had grown to love was no longer my home and I had to find a new one. I took a month off of work to gather myself and I eventually found an apartment in San Antonio close to my job. I had never lived by myself and it was scary, exciting, and I was extremely lonely.
When I returned to Sears after my month long mini vacation, if you can even call it that, Jay was there and we talked and he told me how he had missed me and had wondered where I had been. I started giving him rides home again even though he was now out of my way. I had taken the bus for so long before getting my car that I couldn't think of making him continue to take the bus which would take over an hour to get him home when I could get him there in 10 minutes. Little by little he started coming over to my apartment after work and eventually he would stay over.
We would go out and have so much fun on our days off and party until literally the sun came up. I would go to work hung over, on zero sleep, always with a giant coffee mug to help get me through. Yet I would do the very same thing day after day. Looking back I don't know where I got my energy but it would be nice to get some of that back.
Jay would continue to stay over and I remember asking him one night to move in with me then I remember him clearly telling me "No" how he thought that it wasn't a good idea. However we look back and laugh at it now because he never went home.
My husband got me through the worst time in my life. Losing my grandmother was unbearable. I had always thought that the day she would die that I would go too because I would have nothing left to live for. Jay gave me a reason to live.
Don't get me wrong he wasn't perfect. He had his own demons to deal with. When I first met him he was angry at the world and angry at women in general. He had a quick temper and a fierce one at that. When he would yell it was like a lion roaring and you would just stand back frozen in fear. But I saw a side of him worth saving. A side of him that no one else saw. A side of him that I knew was buried deep under all of the anger and the animosity. Feeling like the black sheep throughout my life and how my grandmother had never given up on me I knew that I couldn't write him off like the rest of the world had. I knew that underneath all of that anger lied a child of God who needed someone just to understand.
Many times we would argue but after our arguments we would talk it out and I would get him to open up about where the anger really originated from. Most of it stemmed from his childhood, some of it came from the relationship that he had just gotten out of with his ex, and alot had to do with his little girl that he was missing, the baby that he left behind when he moved out when he left his ex.
Little by little he began to really trust me and he slowly realized that I would in no way hurt him intentionally as so many had in the past. That is when our relationship started to flourish. It took a year before our relationship went from being roommates to being a couple. So many times throughout that first year of us living together he was the only one there for me when I needed someone the most. I remember how he would climb in bed with me when I was crying and hurting over my loss and just hold me until I fell asleep. His strong arms would cradle my body while I sobbed uncontrollably and he would tell me how everything would be okay.
I realize now that God sent him to me because we were two hurting souls in this world and yet we both had exactly what the other person needed. As different as we are we balance each other out and bring out the best in each other. One thing we have always noticed is how when one of us is upset or depressed the other of us is there to support us. We are never depressed or upset at the same time except for when we lost our sweet Kimberly June but that is another story. We are always strong for the other and just about always have the right things to say.
Our marriage isn't perfect because trust me we have overcome so many obstacles that would have torn many marriages apart. Yet it is our faith in the vows that we took and the faith in our family and in each other that keeps us together. I consider marriage to be a very sacred vow and not something that I entered into lightly. Marriage to me is the utmost gift God can bestow upon us and blesses us with an eternal companion.
Jay is part of me and I am part of him together we are one. God has blessed me with someone that throughout the years has flourished into this brand new man and every day I see it with our children. He is the part of me that I am proud of and love beyond myself. He is not perfect but neither am I and I am happy that he is all mine.
I am glad for the trials and tribulations that we have endured because it is our journey, our own personal story, and it has been an uphill battle yet we are still surviving and thriving. Life has thrown so many things our way but somehow we gather the strength to continue to battle them out together versus battling it out on our own. It is neither him nor I it is US. We are a team worth fighting for and I take pride in how we have come out the other end a bit torn up around the edges but stronger for it deep within the heart. I love my husband and I thank God everyday for bringing him into my life.
No I never in my wildest dreams did I ever think I would fall in love with the man with freckles, ear piercings, and a pierced labret but I am ever so thankful that I did. I am even more thankful that he saw beyond my imperfections and loved me for who I was then and still loves me for who I am today. God is good. I just had to wait on his timing which is always perfect.
Monday, September 17, 2012
Love All Wrapped Up In A Flour Tortilla
My husband Jay is always telling me that he needs to buy me a tortilla press and I always tell him no. He doesn't understand why I enjoy making them and then rolling them out one by one by hand. Growing up tortillas were a staple in our diet. I remember always waking up to the smell of fresh coffee and tortillas in the air. My grandmother would get up every morning and make homemade flour tortillas for my grandfather. In fact she would make them 3 times a day. My grandfather always had to have 3 tortillas for every meal and so we always had them cooking in our home.
So many times my grandmother would insist that I learn and I would always tell her no. Looking back I realize that I was very spoiled during my upbringing but I was so sucked into my "poor me" depression that I never saw it. I never realized just how great I had it and just how much of a brat I was. When you are raised a certain way you just don't see it any differently.
I remember sitting with my grandmother one day watching her roll out these perfect circled tortillas and in Spanish she told me that I had to learn. She said that one day I would marry a man and that my husband would expect me to make them for him all the time. I told her no it would not be that way. I reassured her that I would find a white man that way he would only expect bread. Ha the joke was on me and she was so wise because I did find my white man who by the way loves flour tortillas.
I just within the last 6 months or so have finally decided to not just learn but perfect the art of making them. Every time it is the same way as I add in the flour, salt, baking soda, shortening, and then comes the water that makes it sticky and what used to make me squeamish as a kid because I didn't like to get my hands dirty has now became so therapeutic. With each knead of the dough I think of my Mom (my grandmother) and it brings me closer to her and to my childhood memories. With each little ball I form I can remember her hands so clearly doing the same years ago. As I roll them out I remember all of the little tidbits and advice she would give me on how to roll it out into perfect round circles. Then my mind drifts and I am back in my pink cozy little house with my parents around me and I can hear their voices in my head. I can hear their laughter, I can see their smiles, and I can always hear my dads corny jokes. If I try real hard I can feel my mommas arms around me once more telling me that she loves me and just how beautiful that I am. And for a second I could swear that I can feel my dad pull at my ears as he always did.
As I lay the fresh dough on the hot pan I can start to smell them cooking and again it heightens my experience. In the half hour that it takes me to make them I am taken back to my childhood, to the place where my world was safe, to a time where there was so much love, and to an era in my life that I knew no differently than all homes were as enamored as mine. It's amazing how much a single tortilla made out of love can still bring me to happy tears.
Getting my daughters involved in the process brings back even more memories. When I was real little my momma used to let me roll out my own baby tortilla and as soon as it was done she would lather it up in butter and the taste was always incredible. Now I do the same for my girls and they absolutely appreciate it and love it as much as I did.
I realize that it really isn't the tortilla itself that brings me back home but rather all of the love that went into it and it symbolizes for me all the love and care that my parents showed me every day. It's like love rolled up in a taco and no better taco can one be given. I was always told that my aunts and uncles growing up were embarrassed by their taco lunches because they were too poor to take anything else for lunch but I think they can agree with me when I say that it is true that the poorest in money are the richest in love. Those of us who were raised by my parents are now incredible human beings with a heart so big, so full of love, and so giving to one another. They do my parents proud everyday just like I am proud of who they each are and who they have become.
No I don't want a tortilla press not now not ever. Just like my momma I want to do things all by hand all out of love and all for my family. I hope I make her proud.
So many times my grandmother would insist that I learn and I would always tell her no. Looking back I realize that I was very spoiled during my upbringing but I was so sucked into my "poor me" depression that I never saw it. I never realized just how great I had it and just how much of a brat I was. When you are raised a certain way you just don't see it any differently.
I remember sitting with my grandmother one day watching her roll out these perfect circled tortillas and in Spanish she told me that I had to learn. She said that one day I would marry a man and that my husband would expect me to make them for him all the time. I told her no it would not be that way. I reassured her that I would find a white man that way he would only expect bread. Ha the joke was on me and she was so wise because I did find my white man who by the way loves flour tortillas.
I just within the last 6 months or so have finally decided to not just learn but perfect the art of making them. Every time it is the same way as I add in the flour, salt, baking soda, shortening, and then comes the water that makes it sticky and what used to make me squeamish as a kid because I didn't like to get my hands dirty has now became so therapeutic. With each knead of the dough I think of my Mom (my grandmother) and it brings me closer to her and to my childhood memories. With each little ball I form I can remember her hands so clearly doing the same years ago. As I roll them out I remember all of the little tidbits and advice she would give me on how to roll it out into perfect round circles. Then my mind drifts and I am back in my pink cozy little house with my parents around me and I can hear their voices in my head. I can hear their laughter, I can see their smiles, and I can always hear my dads corny jokes. If I try real hard I can feel my mommas arms around me once more telling me that she loves me and just how beautiful that I am. And for a second I could swear that I can feel my dad pull at my ears as he always did.
As I lay the fresh dough on the hot pan I can start to smell them cooking and again it heightens my experience. In the half hour that it takes me to make them I am taken back to my childhood, to the place where my world was safe, to a time where there was so much love, and to an era in my life that I knew no differently than all homes were as enamored as mine. It's amazing how much a single tortilla made out of love can still bring me to happy tears.
Getting my daughters involved in the process brings back even more memories. When I was real little my momma used to let me roll out my own baby tortilla and as soon as it was done she would lather it up in butter and the taste was always incredible. Now I do the same for my girls and they absolutely appreciate it and love it as much as I did.
I realize that it really isn't the tortilla itself that brings me back home but rather all of the love that went into it and it symbolizes for me all the love and care that my parents showed me every day. It's like love rolled up in a taco and no better taco can one be given. I was always told that my aunts and uncles growing up were embarrassed by their taco lunches because they were too poor to take anything else for lunch but I think they can agree with me when I say that it is true that the poorest in money are the richest in love. Those of us who were raised by my parents are now incredible human beings with a heart so big, so full of love, and so giving to one another. They do my parents proud everyday just like I am proud of who they each are and who they have become.
No I don't want a tortilla press not now not ever. Just like my momma I want to do things all by hand all out of love and all for my family. I hope I make her proud.
Friday, August 24, 2012
It's All About Me
Once again I find myself up late at night or shall I say the wee hours of the morning. I have always been a night owl and I find that I love it that way. It is in the middle of the night when I cannot sleep and everyone else is that I find that my words seem to just flow from within. Sometimes I don't have really anything to say and other times I don't think I do but when it is all said and done even I surprise myself. Times like this gives me a time to reflect and a time to gather my thoughts more effectively. No chaos, no kids crying or screaming. Just me.
I have been working on lately bettering my inner self. Trying desperately to find what it is that I am made of and what I am capable of doing. I have done a whole lot of changing since I was a child/teen and I have come a very long way. Growing up in my home, as loving as my grandparents were, I was a very angry child. I was filled with hate and loathing for something that I had no control over. I would scream, yell, break things, and not very many people seemed to get me. Of course I was also a very insecure person, still am to a point, therefore I didn't allow too many people to get too close to the real me.
I have lived my whole life pretty much as a facade. People only knew what I showed them and that is exactly the way I wanted it to be. I didn't have enough confidence to share my real self with too many as I was scared that they would never accept me and that I would never be good enough for them. My life for a very long time had been lived trying to live up to others expectations of who they thought I should be. Therefore in order to not want to fail them I failed myself. I dropped out of high school when I was 17. One of the bigger regrets of my life. I then went to college and dropped out of that too. When I worked if it got to be too much I would just shut down and eventually quit.
I didn't know how to deal with all of the "You are doing such a good job and we want this now from you." I have always been happy just to be the person in the background never wanting attention called my way. I liked to do a great job to make myself happy but once others started to expect it it became too much. I look back and realize that not having my real mom stand behind me as a child effected me way more than I ever thought it would in my adulthood. As a child I would sit in my bedroom and cry looking out the window waiting for a set of headlights that would hardly ever come. Because my grandparents raised me everyone around took it upon themselves to try to instill in my sister and me there own sets of expectations. However having so many sets of expectations and always failing someone not too mention the feeling of being abandoned left me in the state of mind that I was never good enough. So I just gave up.
It saddens me to know that I have given up on just about every good possibility handed to me. I shut down doors that technically never should have been opened my way in the first place but they happened. The only thing that I have never given up on is my marriage to my husband and my children. If nothing in this world ever goes right for me again these are the two most sacred things that I absolutely feel like I have to hold on to. Without them there would be no me. They have shaped me and help form the best out of me. I know that I could never just walk away and I have no earthly idea how some find it so easy to walk away from theirs. Perhaps it is because even though I was adored by my grandparents I had always felt like nothing and it wasn't until I started my family that I finally felt like something, someone, like a person who was given a one in a million shot and finally made to feel my worth.
My children are the apple of my eye and they know how to make my heart melt. With each I love you, smile, hug, kiss, or even glimmer in their eyes I know that I am their everything. They make me feel wanted, special, and loved which touches the very depths of my soul. I am not quite sure what it is that I did to deserve them all but surely God saw something in me that I never could see in myself.
Today I am a brand new person as I had enough of all the negativity in my life. It doesn't matter everything that I have failed at in the past or all the people that I let down because the ones that matter most to me now are all sleeping soundly in their beds. I have no doubts about failing. Failing here is not even an option. They deserve way better than the rough road I have been through and I promise til my last dying breath that is exactly what they will get.
They will have sunrises and sunsets with me by their side. They will get a kiss and hug each night. More importantly I will teach them that I am worth trusting and me leaving will hopefully never even enter their heads. No I will not fail, I will not fail, I will not fail. That person doesn't exist anymore and my husband nor my children will ever see that former me. More importantly I will never see that former me ever again. My past is my past and I have no intentions of allowing it a place in my future. This is my life and I am happily trudging through this journey one step at a time.
I have been working on lately bettering my inner self. Trying desperately to find what it is that I am made of and what I am capable of doing. I have done a whole lot of changing since I was a child/teen and I have come a very long way. Growing up in my home, as loving as my grandparents were, I was a very angry child. I was filled with hate and loathing for something that I had no control over. I would scream, yell, break things, and not very many people seemed to get me. Of course I was also a very insecure person, still am to a point, therefore I didn't allow too many people to get too close to the real me.
I have lived my whole life pretty much as a facade. People only knew what I showed them and that is exactly the way I wanted it to be. I didn't have enough confidence to share my real self with too many as I was scared that they would never accept me and that I would never be good enough for them. My life for a very long time had been lived trying to live up to others expectations of who they thought I should be. Therefore in order to not want to fail them I failed myself. I dropped out of high school when I was 17. One of the bigger regrets of my life. I then went to college and dropped out of that too. When I worked if it got to be too much I would just shut down and eventually quit.
I didn't know how to deal with all of the "You are doing such a good job and we want this now from you." I have always been happy just to be the person in the background never wanting attention called my way. I liked to do a great job to make myself happy but once others started to expect it it became too much. I look back and realize that not having my real mom stand behind me as a child effected me way more than I ever thought it would in my adulthood. As a child I would sit in my bedroom and cry looking out the window waiting for a set of headlights that would hardly ever come. Because my grandparents raised me everyone around took it upon themselves to try to instill in my sister and me there own sets of expectations. However having so many sets of expectations and always failing someone not too mention the feeling of being abandoned left me in the state of mind that I was never good enough. So I just gave up.
It saddens me to know that I have given up on just about every good possibility handed to me. I shut down doors that technically never should have been opened my way in the first place but they happened. The only thing that I have never given up on is my marriage to my husband and my children. If nothing in this world ever goes right for me again these are the two most sacred things that I absolutely feel like I have to hold on to. Without them there would be no me. They have shaped me and help form the best out of me. I know that I could never just walk away and I have no earthly idea how some find it so easy to walk away from theirs. Perhaps it is because even though I was adored by my grandparents I had always felt like nothing and it wasn't until I started my family that I finally felt like something, someone, like a person who was given a one in a million shot and finally made to feel my worth.
My children are the apple of my eye and they know how to make my heart melt. With each I love you, smile, hug, kiss, or even glimmer in their eyes I know that I am their everything. They make me feel wanted, special, and loved which touches the very depths of my soul. I am not quite sure what it is that I did to deserve them all but surely God saw something in me that I never could see in myself.
Today I am a brand new person as I had enough of all the negativity in my life. It doesn't matter everything that I have failed at in the past or all the people that I let down because the ones that matter most to me now are all sleeping soundly in their beds. I have no doubts about failing. Failing here is not even an option. They deserve way better than the rough road I have been through and I promise til my last dying breath that is exactly what they will get.
They will have sunrises and sunsets with me by their side. They will get a kiss and hug each night. More importantly I will teach them that I am worth trusting and me leaving will hopefully never even enter their heads. No I will not fail, I will not fail, I will not fail. That person doesn't exist anymore and my husband nor my children will ever see that former me. More importantly I will never see that former me ever again. My past is my past and I have no intentions of allowing it a place in my future. This is my life and I am happily trudging through this journey one step at a time.
Thursday, August 23, 2012
The Seasons of Life
As I sit here in the middle of the night and I hear silence throughout my home I feel at peace. I am at peace knowing that my children are sound asleep safely in their beds and that my husband is resting comfortably in ours. Times like this gives me so much time to think and focus on my life and where it is that I have been and even though I don't know where I am headed I know that this road will lead me somewhere.
Growing up in my small town I never could have ever wrapped my head around everything that I would experience in my 35 years. I realize that God gives us a journey to walk through because if He handed us everything at one time we would never withstand the weight of the world. Rather we walk a bit, rest a bit, and enjoy or endure what we are going through. I believe that it is when we are resting and sometimes stuck in the same old rut that it is a period in time that God is needing us to really listen to him. Have you ever wondered why things are not moving fast enough or you are tired of the same old crap? I think it is because there is a lesson to be learned and we just aren't listening. The bible says that there is a season for everything. I never really understood it but now that I do His word is so true. For those who don't know me I have endured many kinds of seasons
I remember growing up my grandmother would always come in my room when I was little and sing to me until I fell asleep. I was always scared of the dark and so she would leave the comfort of her own bed and lay down with me and hold me and sing. With a voice that was so golden and sweet (maybe not to most but to me it was like an angel singing) she would sing me Spanish lullaby's and sometimes I know it would take hours for me to sleep but she never once left me until she knew I was resting peacefully. I can still to this day feel the comfort she gave me and her hands wrapped around me so tight. I was safe from all of the boogie mans and monsters under my bed and I knew that I was alright. She made everything all right. It has been 10 years since she has been gone and I miss her so so much. So many times I want to call her and hear her voice or feel her arms wrapped around me once more. But even though she is gone I know she is with me always pushing me forward. You see my memories are far much more than just memories they are actions of love that were embedded deep within my soul. That was a season of love that was preparing me for a far greater season that was to come. The season in which I now find myself a part of, the season of motherhood.
With the same love and compassion that my grandma, who I now see as my momma, gave me is the same love and devotion I pray to pass on to my own children. I have had a very hard life despite being with my grandparents growing up and I wasn't always the person I am now. So yes I pray that I can at least be half the momma she was to me and I hope that my children one day will see my efforts in their own lives. I know I fail in some areas as a parent and I don't always sing to them the way my momma sang to me. I don't know if trying is good enough but I try to be the best mom that I can for my babies. Perhaps I shouldn't judge myself too harshly because I was told by my aunts and uncles that my sister and I were spoiled rotten compared to the way they were raised. Maybe it was because she had 7 to raise and her baby she buried at a little over a year. We were her babies. We were her everything and she told us so. Just the same way that I tell my own children.
Right now I am in the middle of the greatest season in my life and perhaps my children's. And whether I always get it right or not I have come to understand that it like everything else is a work in progress. One day this particular part of the journey will change and all we all will have are mere memories. I hope, no I pray, that I will do right by my children and this period in time will help them to be so much better, so much more than I ever will be or was. After all that is all we want for our children. We want the very best and more, but even I know that they too will have their own seasons to deal with and it is up to me to prepare them as best as I can.
Growing up in my small town I never could have ever wrapped my head around everything that I would experience in my 35 years. I realize that God gives us a journey to walk through because if He handed us everything at one time we would never withstand the weight of the world. Rather we walk a bit, rest a bit, and enjoy or endure what we are going through. I believe that it is when we are resting and sometimes stuck in the same old rut that it is a period in time that God is needing us to really listen to him. Have you ever wondered why things are not moving fast enough or you are tired of the same old crap? I think it is because there is a lesson to be learned and we just aren't listening. The bible says that there is a season for everything. I never really understood it but now that I do His word is so true. For those who don't know me I have endured many kinds of seasons
I remember growing up my grandmother would always come in my room when I was little and sing to me until I fell asleep. I was always scared of the dark and so she would leave the comfort of her own bed and lay down with me and hold me and sing. With a voice that was so golden and sweet (maybe not to most but to me it was like an angel singing) she would sing me Spanish lullaby's and sometimes I know it would take hours for me to sleep but she never once left me until she knew I was resting peacefully. I can still to this day feel the comfort she gave me and her hands wrapped around me so tight. I was safe from all of the boogie mans and monsters under my bed and I knew that I was alright. She made everything all right. It has been 10 years since she has been gone and I miss her so so much. So many times I want to call her and hear her voice or feel her arms wrapped around me once more. But even though she is gone I know she is with me always pushing me forward. You see my memories are far much more than just memories they are actions of love that were embedded deep within my soul. That was a season of love that was preparing me for a far greater season that was to come. The season in which I now find myself a part of, the season of motherhood.
With the same love and compassion that my grandma, who I now see as my momma, gave me is the same love and devotion I pray to pass on to my own children. I have had a very hard life despite being with my grandparents growing up and I wasn't always the person I am now. So yes I pray that I can at least be half the momma she was to me and I hope that my children one day will see my efforts in their own lives. I know I fail in some areas as a parent and I don't always sing to them the way my momma sang to me. I don't know if trying is good enough but I try to be the best mom that I can for my babies. Perhaps I shouldn't judge myself too harshly because I was told by my aunts and uncles that my sister and I were spoiled rotten compared to the way they were raised. Maybe it was because she had 7 to raise and her baby she buried at a little over a year. We were her babies. We were her everything and she told us so. Just the same way that I tell my own children.
Right now I am in the middle of the greatest season in my life and perhaps my children's. And whether I always get it right or not I have come to understand that it like everything else is a work in progress. One day this particular part of the journey will change and all we all will have are mere memories. I hope, no I pray, that I will do right by my children and this period in time will help them to be so much better, so much more than I ever will be or was. After all that is all we want for our children. We want the very best and more, but even I know that they too will have their own seasons to deal with and it is up to me to prepare them as best as I can.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
This Little Light of Mine
Growing up in a small town where everybody knows your name was wonderful yet a nightmare at times. Of course there was always lots of love to go around but at the same time someone else's nose was always in your business and ready with eager lips to spread it. However now that I am officially a married mother of 5 city girl I can look back and see just how great I had it.
I grew up in the only pink house in town along with my sister and we were raised by my elderly grandparents. If I had to only pick one word to describe them ,though I could choose of many, the word would be "angels". In this day and age no one believes me when I tell them the truth that my grandparents were the embodiment of love. They believed in God and in Christ and they didn't just say it, they meant it, and they lived it. It was through their actions that my sister and I witnessed day after day that we can now appreciate just how special and rare they were.
We have all heard that song "This little light of mine. I'm gonna let it shine. Oh this little light of mine. I'm gonna let it shine....." well they had that light and they always let it shine. My grandmother was a beautiful person inside and out. She carried herself with grace and with love always with a sense of compassion. My grandfather on the other hand held himself up with a sense of dignity and respect while being in the spirit of service always. Both my grandparents had so much love for one another. Looking back I realize that it was their love for one another that allowed them freely to give of themselves not only to each other but to everyone that they came in contact with.
My grandfather was a strong man who stood at about 5'11" and though his hands were big and worn they were always gentle enough to tug on my ears. He wasn't a man of very many words but his words were always kind and loving when it came to my grandmother. He loved her and everyone could see it. He loved her more than life itself and it showed. His voice was typically always under control but when it boomed you listened. You couldn't help but listen. He never though even so much as raised his voice at my grandma. He had too much love, too much respect, and too much adoration to ever do that to her. In return my grandmother showered him with love and she too loved him more than life itself.
My grandma was a small woman about 5" but she held down the fort pretty well. She always took care of my grandfather making sure his meals were done and indoor chores taken care of. My grandfather would help her but mostly she did it alone. Though she was always finding something to keep her busy she always found lots of time for me and my sister. We laughed, we played , and she shared with us stories, always reminding us to wait on God to make sure that we found true love as she had with my grandfather. The love that she carried for him was grand and not a more perfect love story have I ever seen in my entire life as I witnessed first hand through them. She doted on him and he loved it. Being Hispanic I would always hear them exchange their "I love you's" in Spanish. She too was a woman with a meek voice but had no problems giving advice and counseling where needed. They were the perfect duo. A match made in heaven. Together they were a force of love to be reckoned with.
Growing up I would always hear them pray together, not just for themselves, but for others. They would pray for hours and when my grandmother died we found pages worth of names of people that she would pray for on a nightly basis. They say that a family that prays together stays together and I have no doubts that is absolutely true. It kept them strong and firm not just in their walk with Christ but in their walk with each other.
Now that I am in my mid 30s and have a family all of my own I can see just how the pieces of the puzzle from my past can shape my future. I have been taught and taught well in the gifts of love. It is up to me to put them in practice and show my little family what I have seen. I want them to see the same love, the same guidance, the same power that I saw as a child. I can fully appreciate now as an adult just how much work they put into making this happen. Their little light shinned on my sister and my faces for so many years and even though they are gone I refuse to allow their light to go out with them. Yes it is time for my own light to shine.
I grew up in the only pink house in town along with my sister and we were raised by my elderly grandparents. If I had to only pick one word to describe them ,though I could choose of many, the word would be "angels". In this day and age no one believes me when I tell them the truth that my grandparents were the embodiment of love. They believed in God and in Christ and they didn't just say it, they meant it, and they lived it. It was through their actions that my sister and I witnessed day after day that we can now appreciate just how special and rare they were.
We have all heard that song "This little light of mine. I'm gonna let it shine. Oh this little light of mine. I'm gonna let it shine....." well they had that light and they always let it shine. My grandmother was a beautiful person inside and out. She carried herself with grace and with love always with a sense of compassion. My grandfather on the other hand held himself up with a sense of dignity and respect while being in the spirit of service always. Both my grandparents had so much love for one another. Looking back I realize that it was their love for one another that allowed them freely to give of themselves not only to each other but to everyone that they came in contact with.
My grandfather was a strong man who stood at about 5'11" and though his hands were big and worn they were always gentle enough to tug on my ears. He wasn't a man of very many words but his words were always kind and loving when it came to my grandmother. He loved her and everyone could see it. He loved her more than life itself and it showed. His voice was typically always under control but when it boomed you listened. You couldn't help but listen. He never though even so much as raised his voice at my grandma. He had too much love, too much respect, and too much adoration to ever do that to her. In return my grandmother showered him with love and she too loved him more than life itself.
My grandma was a small woman about 5" but she held down the fort pretty well. She always took care of my grandfather making sure his meals were done and indoor chores taken care of. My grandfather would help her but mostly she did it alone. Though she was always finding something to keep her busy she always found lots of time for me and my sister. We laughed, we played , and she shared with us stories, always reminding us to wait on God to make sure that we found true love as she had with my grandfather. The love that she carried for him was grand and not a more perfect love story have I ever seen in my entire life as I witnessed first hand through them. She doted on him and he loved it. Being Hispanic I would always hear them exchange their "I love you's" in Spanish. She too was a woman with a meek voice but had no problems giving advice and counseling where needed. They were the perfect duo. A match made in heaven. Together they were a force of love to be reckoned with.
Growing up I would always hear them pray together, not just for themselves, but for others. They would pray for hours and when my grandmother died we found pages worth of names of people that she would pray for on a nightly basis. They say that a family that prays together stays together and I have no doubts that is absolutely true. It kept them strong and firm not just in their walk with Christ but in their walk with each other.
Now that I am in my mid 30s and have a family all of my own I can see just how the pieces of the puzzle from my past can shape my future. I have been taught and taught well in the gifts of love. It is up to me to put them in practice and show my little family what I have seen. I want them to see the same love, the same guidance, the same power that I saw as a child. I can fully appreciate now as an adult just how much work they put into making this happen. Their little light shinned on my sister and my faces for so many years and even though they are gone I refuse to allow their light to go out with them. Yes it is time for my own light to shine.
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