Summer of Love: in memory of…..well, love

Amatuer poems and prose written by Me at various times in my youth, for the different loves, and almost loves in my life.

Freshman year, 1993—-Robert

Feather

Just like a feather

from a magnificent bird

was the way you swept through my fingers.

Maybe it was love?

That I don’t know

but something was there

and now it’s gone.

 

March 1995—Ryan , my first love

Not Long Enough

Words can’t explain it

but do you feel the same?

don’t talk, don’t say a word

I know

I already know

hold me, kiss me, touch me, love me

I gave you my innocence

now take it with care

don’t break it, its fragile

how precious

it’s full of love, wanting to give more

hold me, kiss me, touch me, love me

forever is not long enough.

 

July 15, 1998

In This Search

In this search for the one with his eyes

the eyes that penetrate through me

the eyes that read me

the eyes I get lost in

the eyes I don’t fear looking into mine

for they’re the eyes that love me

 

In this search for the one with his hands

the hands that cup my chin

the hands that run through my hair

the hands that with the slightest touch on my skin

fill me with contentment

the hands I don’t fear holding me

for they’re the hands that protect me

 

In this search for the one with his voice

the voice that alter with emotion

the voice he only lets me hear when we’re alone

the voice that can loves to sing regardless of skill

the voice I don’t fear hearing

for its the voice that makes me smile

the voice I’d know anywhere

 

In this search for the one with his mind

the mind that ponders

the mind that doesn’t give up

the mind that craves knowledge

the mind I don’t fear helping

for its the mind that helps mine

 

In this search for the one with his heart

the heart that bleeds

the heart that cries

the heart that loves Jesus

the heart I don’t fear holding

for its that heart that also holds me

 

In this search for the one with his soul

the soul that is alive

the soul that glows with contentment

the soul that loves my God

the soul I don’t fear knowing

for its the soul that dances with mine

 

Where do I find who I am searching for?

He can’t be the one I long for

Where do I find the one with all his traits but one?

Where do I find the one who will never stop loving me?

 

March 25, 1999—Cameron

My Love

The eyes of my love

are warm baths

soothing and comforting.

The lips of my love

are royal pillows

made only for me, the queen.

the hands of my love

are leather

strong and worn

yet they turn to velvet

with the slightest touch on my skin.

The heart of my love

is a furnace

full of warmth and light.

Time is ticking….where are you my love?

 

 Spring 2001—-Michael and friends

Whispers

Memories travel like a whisper int the dark

I can still hear the whispers from years ago

In dreams, I see bright light through my eyelids.

Mikey says the scent of Heavenly gives him butterflies

His touch sends tickling fingers down my spine

His lips taste salty sweet

His whispers urge me to stand on top of Big Bear Mountain and sing

Purple sounds like drum and bass

Spring break 1998—Lake Havasu, Arizona—Barbie Matzke falls down in the dirt laughing

hysterically–she thought we were floating on a raft, but we were napping in our tent

we weren’t napping, we were daydreaming.

Santa Ana winds wrap warm blankets between still, cold air

Kaden is a perfect name for a child

My name is Theresa because that’s what everyone calls me

We howled Pink Floyd’s “Two Lost Souls Swimming in a Fish Bowl” late into the night

The small lips of peace and contentment kissed our eyelids as we fell asleep.

His sheets are as white as night.

I’m flying above him now, can he see my wings?

Treese is too passionate for the Average Taurus

but this Taurus’s whispers drive her passions.

Cold blankets make December nights numb.

I’ll have to whisper through the pounding rain for him to hear me.

Quiero que besarte otravez

daffodils in my garden flirt with the sunlight

whispers float through the clouds, through my window, through my mind.

 

Falling in Love—date written, unknown

I love the butterflies, the dizziness, the warm feeling that spreads over my body when I think of him or talk to him. I love the innocent and naïve infatuation with everything and anything he says or does. I love the random moments when he crosses my mind. I love the fantasies and dreams of laughter, friendship, and romance.

But falling head over heals is such a paradoxical transition isn’t it?

Bitter

s

         w

                 e

                         e

                                  t

The bitter comes with the uncertainty. The fear of losing what I have yet to call mine. The moments when he doesn’t say something utterly romantic and I fear—oh no, he is over it!! The fear—the fear of loss, the fear of gain, the fear of life changing. The continuous need for reassurance when I hate being that way. But doesn’t falling for someone change us momentarily into these babbling, needy, idiots?

 

I hate the inability to just sleep, the fear of being played—not believing that this person who seems so perfect at this moment could ever want to leave the attention of all those other women for just me.

The knowledge that this person will by no means be perfect, and the excitement and fear that I could possibly be intimate enough with him to get to know those flaws and grow to love them. 

The things I love and hate about falling in love: the paradoxical hope and fear that somehow through all of this, everything will change.

Yes, falling head over heels is a combination of both

                                                           y

                                                    s

                                            a

                                      t

                               s

                         c

                   E

and

                   P

                             a

                                      i

                                              n

both at the same time, mixing around in my brain and in my stomach. I want the feelings to go away, but at the same time, never want them to leave.

Am I the only one? No….I know this is part of it. This is part of what I have gone through so many times in my life—each time, hoping this one is for real. Each time, disappointed in someway. Each time, swearing to never go through it again. Each time, surprising myself because I still feel like I did the first time I fell for someone—13 years old all over again. So uncertain about where my life is going. So uncertain about who I am or what I really want. So child-like and vulnerable. So stupidly giddy and willing to sacrifice all in the name of some fantasy only Cinderella and The Little Mermaid truly experienced.

I’ve been told to put on my goggles and dive in. Otherwise, how else will I find that prize winning fish?

And so I do—but I don’t dive in

I do a cannon ball.

 

 

 

Back and Ready as I can try to be

The last couple of weeks have been nonstop. No wonder I got sick. After slamming out interviews, giving finals, moving out of my classroom, packing for Miami, vacationing in Miami, driving up to Vegas for the weekend and then back down, it is no wonder I have been diagnosed with a double ear infection, bronchitis, and sinusitis. Phew! But I’m feeling okay and I’m ready to start this vacation. Especially knowing I have a job to show up to on August 13.

South Beach Miami was a great time aside from being ridiculously expensive. I allocated 100 bucks a day for spending and I blew through that (100 bucks) just the first night. How I was going to factor in the day took another day to figure out. And Lael and I were not evening living it large out there. The problem is that in South Beach— a Snapple costs 6 bucks, every restaurant automatically adds a 20% gratuity, and a cocktail costs 15 dollars. Shopping? All the choices in area near our hotels were high couture shops. So….we had to make some adjustments. Breakfast was the toast and coffee offered by our hotel. Lunch was beach-side made of cheese, yogurt, lunch meat, and crackers we bought at a local market. Dinner we splurged. Before nightlife, we had homemade cocktails in our room. And on the dance floor, we bought 6 dollar bottles of water instead. Although, I only danced one night. I hate dancing. The other nights I sat back and watched and chatted with other tourists or ran around taking photos. 🙂

We did take a tour of Miami one day, however. We got to see some beautiful neighborhoods in Coconut Groves, eat empenadas and buy cigars in Little Havana, and check out the celebrity homes on the islands there on a Ferry ride. Unfortunately, we couldn’t afford the snorkling trip we had planned or renting Vespas and cruising around town.

On Sunday, on our flight to Miami, I sat next to a nice guy named Carlos who grew up in Miami. He offered to give Lael and I some tips on where to go and where to eat while we were there. And he even met up with us a couple of times. We tasted some amazing Cuban food because of him and learned a lot about a crazy form of Brazilian martial arts that he was into although, I don’t remember the name.

On Monday afternoon, as Lael and I were coming into our room after a splendid day at the beach, we were greeted by two beautiful young women from Minnesota. They had come in the day before as well and wanted to see if we wanted to get together that night for some dancing. What a great pair they were. We had an awesome time mimicking their Minnesota accents and dressing up, borrowing shoes, talking about girly stuff, and hitting South Beach as a four-pack instead of two. We enjoyed their company so much, we are now Face Book friends and plan to maybe take a trip to Minneapolis and come visit. We spent a lot of time with them over the week—beaches, shopping, lunch, and night life—and have some hilarious pictures to prove it–although I still need to get Lacey to post them.

Earlier Monday, Lael and I accidentally laid out in the gay part of the beach. We didn’t notice the two rainbow flags 300 yards apart and decided to set up shop right in the middle. An hour later, we pull our noses out of our books and figured it out when we notived a middle aged bleach blonde european step into the personal space of a flabby Native American. Too funny.

On the last night, I was exhausted and sunburned and ready to go to bed, but Lael dragged me out. We went to Clevelender with Carlos and this young man named Jonathan from New York who we met in the lobby earlier that day. Jonathan bought us a shot of Tequila and after that, I actually danced a little bit. But Lael topped it off. The tequila and the heat really got to her and she said she was too hot. I told her we had to leave anyway if we wanted to get a good nights rest before I early flight the next day. I told her she has been good her whole life and needed to do something crazy. If she jumped into the pool (outside bar and dance floor) we would surely get kicked out. But who cares, if we were going to leave anyway, right? So she did it. My sweet, good friend Lael, jumped into the pool. Jonathan followed. We got kicked out. And I never saw Lael with a bigger smile on her face, ever. Good times. 🙂

On my way back from Vegas on Sunday(another blog to come), I started to feel chest pressure and a cough. So now it is Thursday and I’ve got all the itises known to man. But I’ve got lots of plans through next week and as long as my son doesn’t get sick, we will be good. I missed Kanan sooooo much on the trip. I found that if I thought about him, I’d cry, so I tried to keep myself distracted. But it was great to hold him when I came back, smell him, and hear his sweet little voice. He has grown so much just in the week I was gone. This summer is going to be awesome. I can’t wait to spend quality time with my son, my friends, and family; and of course, to get some artistic me time in. My friend Kelley and I are working on a Christian Children’s book together and I need to do a page a day. I’d like to take a class at my church to further my knowledge of God, volunteer a bit at the Pregnancy Resource Center, and some how through it all, take another week long trip somewhere. We shall see. 🙂

2009–a year of change

Just within the last two days, so much has changed for so many of the people I know and love.

1. I got offered a job with Temecula Unified.

2. One of my friends just got engaged.

3. Another friend of mine just found out she is pregnant.

4. Another friend just reunited with his father after some time of estrangement.

5. Another friend’s family has reunited after 15 years of broken relationships and estrangement.

6. Another friend just learned she is moving to Europe for two years.

And that is just the last two days. Over the last couple of months, my brother has broken up with his long term girlfriend, been laid off, and finally rehired. My mother has found work after months of unemployment. My cousin’s biological family found her after 29 years. And one of my good friend’s passed the first step in her application process for the FBI.

So the change has been good for everyone, even if it took us through some roller coaster rides. If I get too analytical and I might start stressing about what will happen in 2010, but I am choosing instead to enjoy the change set forth for me in the next year, without knowing what will happen thereafter. And for everyone else as well.

Praise Report

As always, the Lord is good. He blessed me with a job offer from Temecula Unified today. But I must say, it was a roller coaster of a day. My poor adrenals never knew it so bad. It all started Monday when my colleagues approached me with an article in the newspaper reporting that our district will be able to hire 28 teachers back for a one year temporary contract. But then we figured, if we had to hear about it from a newspaper, we probably weren’t any of the 28. Well then as I was walking through the office, our school secretary told me that the principal wanted to talk to me. I went into his office and he proceeded to tell me that he may have some good news for me on Wednesday morning so that if Chapparal High School called me wanting me to sign a contract, to tell them to wait. I asked him how he knew I interviewed for a position with Chapparal High School and he said that they had called asking for a reference on me that morning, good sign. So for the last couple of days, I thought I might have a choice. So many pluses and minuses lined up for both schools. But how awesome it would be to have a choice, even though I didn’t really know what I would pick. I silently hoped God would just open one door because if two were opened, he would literally have to shout the answer down from Heaven in order for me to know which one he wanted.

This morning I come to school and open my email to find an email from our director of human resources. I wasn’t one of the 28. She recommended I take Temecula’s offer. So all day, I’ve been waiting for my administrators to finish calling back the school and giving their recommendations for me. And all the while, I am worrying about whether or not they would be good enough and whether or not they had wanted me or were deciding between me and someone else. But by three o’clock I still didn’t have a call and I began to think that I just didn’t get the position. Wouldn’t they know by now?

So I did what any stressed woman would do—I went and got a pedicure and bought a new outfit. And as I was paying for my clothes, my phone vibrated. I had a message. It was Temecula Unified, offering me a job. The message was left at 5:05. I returned the call at 5:35 to hear Chris, the gentlemen on the other end of the phone tell me that things had changed over the last 25 minutes and that the position may not even be available anymore for me to take as enrollment had decreased at one of the sister high schools. He said he’d have to call me back. I couldn’t help but laugh. This was getting ridiculous and I didnt’ have any tears left. But 20 minutes later, he did call me back, informing me that the position was still indeed available. And of course, I said yes. One door opened. Another closed. God might as well have shouted down from heaven, right?

Temecula, oh hot Temecula, here I come.

Yummy Crab Pasta Salad

This is a doctored up version inspired by a relative from my past. Delicious! Refreshing! And can be adjusted to your tastes! 🙂

Here is my favorite version. And as far as amounts go, I don’t have any. I like to cook by how I feel. So cut the veggies and if you decide you want more, add more. Go with how you feel. If you like onions, add extra onions. If you don’t like too much carrots, then add just enough for color. You see what I mean? I’m planned in every part of my life except my recipes. But so far it has worked for me. Anyway here you go.

 Spring Crab Pasta Salad

• Imitation Crab (or if you have enough money, go for it and add chunks of the real deal!)
• tri-colored pasta (I prefer a mixed grain)
• Vegenaise (or Mayonnaise if you want the real stuff, or even just some light olive oil if you don’t do mayo)
• diced red and yellow bell pepper
• diced red onion
• diced green onion (chive and bulb)
• shredded carrots (I prefer to shred them myself. They’re thinner and sweeter!)
• diced red cabbage
• sliced celery
• chopped cilantro
• thinly diced jalepeno (I don’t know how to add the tilde)
• diced medium cheddar cheese
• diced pepper jack cheese
• cranberries (lots! Don’t be scared. This is the favorite part of everyone who tries this salad!)

Find a big, big bowl. Cook pasta, rinse in cold water. As the pasta is cooking, chop up veggies. After you rinse the pasta in cold water, pour into your big, big bowl.  Add veggies, mayonaise, and crab and mix thoroughly. Add more veggies or crab or mayo as you see fit.

If I don’t have imitation crab, I substitute the meat with canned chicken or tuna. With these meats, the cranberries are still divine, but raisins are also a good swap if you need a change. I sometimes add pesto to the mix if I am using chicken, which is a nice change sometimes too. But the above recipe is my all time favorite and it has been a hit with everyone I know who has tried it. Enjoy!

Windows of a Teenage Girl

When I was 15 years old, I stared out my window longing for freedom. I sat on my bed and rested my head on the windowsill and I fantasized about crawling out and seeing my friends. But I didn’t. Doing so meant the end to my little life. And while already having lost the freedom to talk on the phone, to wear pants, to wear makeup, to socialize, or to even get a glass of water without asking, why I felt so afraid of the consequences is beyond my comprehension now. But I feared leaving and so I dealt with the sadness of my little room and the darkness of my home by writing poetry and taking two pills a day–one tiny white pill called Zoloft and one larger one with another name I don’t remember, but it was supposed to help me stop pulling out my hair.

***

Hair flying wildly, as  Nick would storm into my room red faced and scream at me to start closing my blinds. He could see me undress when he walked over to that side of the yard to smoke his cigarettes. I don’t know why I always forgot to close my blinds. Maybe I didn’t want to lose sight for even a second, of the promise of freedom outside that window. Closing the blinds meant I felt protected in my home, but to be honest, that home did not protect me. And so I kept forgetting to close my blinds when I undressed, and my step-dad kept forgetting to not smoke on that side of the backyard and look in my window.

***

Windows were places to dream on long drives. On drives to my step-grandmother’s house, I sat in the backseat looking out the car window and dreamed of seeing my secret boyfriend, Ryan, in another car. I fantasized that if that ever happened, I would press my hand up against the cold glass, spreading my fingers out like a starfish and mouth to him “I love you.”

***

You may think I was always good, but when I was almost 16, there were a couple of months where my sister and I would open that window in our room and push out the corner of the screen so we could sneak out to smoke cigarettes. I remember it clearly now. We turned our fan on when we went to sleep and its noise muffled the sounds of our secrets and cries. At 2 o’clock in the morning, when everyone in the house was asleep, the fan would also muffle the sound of us crawling out the window. After we successfully crawled out, my heart pounded and my adrenalin rushed as we stuck the cigarettes in the empty Bic ink pens. This way our fingers wouldn’t smell like cigarettes and give us away. We didn’t leave our house–We just sat on the grass with our backs against the cold brick wall and took long drags, holding the smoke in our lungs for as long as we could, and then slowly blowing it out. We smoked just one cigarette each, but that cigarette was our secret freedom— the one thing we did that he couldn’t take away. And after that cigarette, we slowly crawled back through the window, while praying to God, no one heard. My heart didn’t stop pounding until I stepped out of my mother’s car the next morning and walked up the steps of my school.

***

School had come and gone and during the summer between my sophomore and junior year, my step-dad found a house that could embody everything he wanted our family to be. It sat on three acres of horse property in the hills of the Alta Loma suburbs at a price only dreams could afford. Yet even I at that time hoped that this house could change us. The one-story home with the attic, double sided fireplace, and horse property appeared like a fairytale waiting to rescue us from the chaos of our lives. In the attic of the home, some 30 feet from the floor, sat a window. If our step-dad got this house, the attic would be my sister’s and my room, but only under one condition– he would put bars up in the attic window and cut the large tree out side of it down. This way, he said, we couldn’t run away.

***

Away was all I wanted one night— I couldn’t wait for freedom anymore and so I cut the screen in my window. I couldn’t open it like I had before because we didn’t have that fan anymore and I would make too much noise trying to push out the screen that evening. Looking back, I know I was serious about leaving. If I wasn’t serious, there was no way I would have cut that screen. Cutting the screen meant abuse ten times worse than what I experienced that evening. Cutting the screen meant I had to leave or risk the consequences. I think I was going crazy that night as I threw away all my belongings into big black trash bags.

“What are you doing?” my sister asked. And I just threw my head back and laughed and laughed.

“Does it matter anymore? Does it really f@#$ing matter?” I said.

Could anyone blame me? I had just experienced my step-dad throwing me against the towel cupboard, calling me a slutt and a whore as he forcefully rubbed lipstick and mascara all over my face, my neck, and my arms until I was covered in red and black streaks smeared with tears and sweat. And just when I thought it was over, he pulled out my blue and green, flower- covered poetry journal and read each page out loud, tearing it out of the book and throwing the crumbed pages and more soul-killing adjectives in my face. I fought back by pressing my knees against my chest and dreaming of my next poem.

And so after I threw away almost all that I owned, I took my backpack and my sister’s backpack and packed in each: one pair of jeans, one t-shirt, a hooded sweatshirt, a toothbrush, deodorant, and a pen—my ultimate weapon. Then I hid the backpacks in the old, ripped, box spring of my bed, so that when our step-dad checked under it to make sure we cleaned up the mess he left after destroying our room, he wouldn’t see. After he checked and went to bed, I took out the scissors and cut the screen and promised my sister that we would never have to live like that again. And looking back at this story years later, I have only one regret. Anthony—I’m so sorry I didn’t pack your bag too.

***

Too soon after CPS forced our stepfather to leave, I snuck out my window and hopped over the brick wall. It was the first and last time I ever did it, but I did. My mother was asleep and I had a girlfriend over for the night. She had a crush on my next-door neighbor and wanted to see him. Without any thought, I pushed out my screen and we crawled through the window and we didn’t come back ’till 5 in the morning.

***

Morning on our darkness wouldn’t come for some time. We dwelled in it for a while despite our attempts to move forward. At the beginning of my senior year in high school, my mother found a small apartment not far from our former home. She had to switch from being the sick and weak mom, fighting Lupus and Epstein bar virus as she made our lunches, did our laundry, and cooked us dinner to being a strong, single, working mom.  Because she had not worked in 8 years, the humble job she found could only pay for so much. My 11-year-old brother slept on the couch in the living room. My sister and I shared a room again. My mother slept, lonely, and scared in the master bedroom. Sometimes late at night, my sister, brother, and I could hear noise coming from our mother’s empty room. One of those nights we developed enough courage to open the door and face the intruder. And there we found our crying mother–crawling through her window back into the house, still holding the half empty bottle of Jack Daniels–so we wouldn’t see how drunk she was. We were all mourning the morning of our lives. But morning would come indeed. Mine came first. My sisters second. My mother next. My brother last.

***

Last day of August 2007, I wrote in my diary, “In my new room behind the safe walls of my loving father’s home, I close the blinds when I undress and the window screen remains sealed tight.”

Kanan’s Dedication

Well, Kanan didn’t sit silently the whole time and so Pastor Mike had to rush a bit through the dedication. I should have fed Kanan more snacks before we came up. Gah…that’s what I get for waiting until he was two to get him dedicated. Hope you enjoy the sentiment as much as you laugh at Kanan’s enthusiasm for prayer. 🙂

Plans and Then the Reason’s Why I Should Throw Them in the Trash.

Today I recieved my official pink slips. My principal called me into his office and told me how much he wished he didn’t have to do this. He said all the nice things he could say—we will try and do everything we can to bring you back, you are one of our best teachers, etc. I asked him some of my own questions and expressed my gratitude for being able to start my career at this school and said goodbye. The experience sobered me to say the least. Its strange, this layoff could lead me down one of three roads–to a better school and a better career or to a challenging season (hopefully) of substitute teaching until I could land another teaching job, or to a humbling season of unemployment before another fork in the road that could get better or worse. I pray for the former but I am planning now how I will handle all three. I took a really detailed and scientific personality test a while back that definied me as an introverted, perseptive, equally logical and emotional, planner. I plan. And I have to write out my plans on paper over and over again for myself to process and feel like I have things under control. I can’t tell you how many times I have calculated my expenses and budget if I have to live on unemployment or if I had to live on substitute teacher income, or if I got a job at another highschool making what I make now. I have three plans on how to handle the three possible : the best, the best of the worst, and the worst.

The best: I save my money from not paying rent for the next three months and get a nice nest egg for an apartment and move out at the end of summer back to Oceanside so Kanan can stay with his current daycare provider who has become like a grandmother to him. I’d commute to whatever job I found unless of course it was super far away which in that case, I would just have to move out anyway. If the prospective school district pays me a salary equivalent or more than I make now, I’ll be good.

The best of the worst: I pull Kanan out of daycare the two work days I have him and take care of him myself (This part is actually awesome! Its just the rest that makes it suck because of the instability and lack of professional development).  I substitute teach the three other work days in the Oceanside School District because with my current contract, they legally have to pay me a daily rate equivalent to what I make now. I’d stay at my folks house and slam out payments on my car to get that paid off so that if I don’t find permanent work I could eventually move out while making less money because I would free up 250 dollars to use toward an apartment. I’d have to save a lot though to get me through the school breaks where I wouldn’t work. And I’d might have to take a summer job to get me through that 10 week dry spell if I couldn’t save enough.

The worst: If there are no sub jobs, I’ll live on 1800 dollars a month as long as I can while actively seeking employment and if I cannot find employment making decent money, I’d go back to school, volunteer, take some mission trips,  and make the most of my time without work. Of course, this option would also require me to take Kanan out of daycare and spend time with more (which is a plus, of course). In the end, if this phase only lasts a season and I do end up teaching again with a permanent position within a year, than it could be a blessing in disguise because of my time I could use spending time with my son during special moments I could never get back.

So at this point, I have to surrender the rest to God. I can’t make anyone of these happen. I can only apply my reaction once that becomes the road I will clearly have to take. I suppose what scares me most is that this is the first recession I have ever experienced as an adult. And given that I am a conservative, I obviously don’t like see the road our government and society is going down in addition to watching my state and my country slip further and further into debt (which no one likes, regardless of political views). So I can’t help but feel a bit of doom and gloom when it comes to the future. Of course I know God will make sure my son and I  eat and are sheltered as I said in my previous post, but there are people out there who have had a number of negative changes take place in their lives that have lead them to be on welfare or some other support system and I can’t help but think that if this could happen to other people, it could certainly happen to me. I am not special or above anyone else. Circumstances happen and great men fall. I have never been great, but if great men can fall then I could fall. The key is finding joy and happiness no matter the consequence. Will I let my happiness be determined by happenings? Or will I remain joyful despite it all because my joy comes from things not of this world? Shouldn’t I stop asking God to serve me and instead ask Him how I could serve Him? Who is Lord after all?

Worry

I worry. It is my biggest sin. I worry about every thing. I worry so much, sometimes I can’t eat. I worry so much, and I always have. I was a worrier even as a child, getting so caught up in the what ifs of life that my own grandmother would push out my furrowed brows and say in her thick Colombian accent, “you are too young to be so serious my darling.” So when we are hanging out and having a good time, you might see this goofball friend who makes fun of herself and has a big smile. But afterward when I’m on my way home, I’ll reflect back on the conversation and if I remember saying anything that may have been taken the wrong way or perhaps may have offended someone or what ever, I’ll worry about it. I’ll eventually call you and apologize or clarify something I said, just so I can stop wondering. And most of the time when I do, the person I call has no idea what I’m talking about. Most of the time, my worrying is for nothing. Now, since I’ve become a Christian, much of my worries have dissapated. There are moments between the worrying that I am reminded of whose child I am, and I calm down because I know that no matter what happens, He loves me and has plans for me. If I didn’t have that comfort, I don’t know what I’d do. But right now, I admit that I am still not cured. It is something He will have to work on me for a while. Like my life for example. I worry about it. I worry about not finding a job. I worry about not having my own place. I worry I’ll have to work a bunch of low paying jobs to make ends meet and never get to see my son. I worry about not every falling in love again or ever having a man love me so much, he ‘d want to marry me.  I worry that because of this, I’ll never have children or enjoy making love again. I worry that my life won’t turn out the way I had hoped. And while other Christians remind me of that famous verse by Jesus which says that if the birds of the air are taken care of, how much more my father in heaven will take care of me, I realize that I’m not worried about that. I’m not worried I won’t be able to eat. I’m not worried I won’t have a place to live. I know God has me covered in that by blessing me with many loving friends and family who would take care of me if things got that bad. I know that I live in the United States and while in many ways it is crumbling to pieces, it is still better off than so many other countries. What I worry about is that God won’t bless me with the things I want, but don’t need.

I want to teach. I want to have my own place. I want to be married. I want more children. And I don’t need any one of these things, but I want them. And I worry that God has plans that are different than mine. Plans so different, none of the things on that list will happen. It has been over a year since I moved out of Mike’s house and four years since I started to grow tired and dissatisfied with the the meaninglessness of gluttony—the drinking, spending, eating, and having meaningless “friendships” with most of the people I associated with up until that point of my life just didn’t bring me the joy and satisfaction I wanted in life. I was ready for something quieter. Something with more purpose: independence in my own life: then marriage; a family; helping people in the community; a close relationship with God; and real friends. Well in 2007, things started to change.  It started with having a child, it led to me growing my relationship with Christ, and it moved into some real genuine friendships that I will cherish my entire life, and has pulled me into ministries that are helping others as well as reviving some of my creativity in the arts. But I lost my boyfriend of 6 years in the process. I’ve moved back in with my folks. I now am being laid off from my job. And while I am dating again, I’m just starting, and therefore don’t see any engagements happening anytime soon. So I’ve gained five, lost two, and have yet to have two others, ever.  

But then I think, well if indeed God didn’t want those things for me, what would be the reason? Perhaps they would draw me away from him. Perhaps I would get so wrapped up in my independence or my boyfriend or something, that I would pull away from Jesus. And I think, if I gained all the things I want from this world, but lost my relationship with God in the process, would it be worth it? And the answer is no. No way. Now, most likely I am wrong. Most likely God has plans for many of my wishes to come true, but just not right now. And with that, I know he is working on my patience.

But what frustrates me is that my patience is growing thin and I feel a growing rebellion in my heart. And it is a rebellion that I don’t want. But I can’t seem to shake it. A rebellion that says if he doesn’t give me what I want soon, I’ll start trying it my way again. Even though deep down, I know by doing so, He will just prove to me that my way won’t work anyway. Such a paradox one would think I could just surrender like I did a year and a half ago. So I prayed this prayer tonight. I prayed to God that if any of the choices I make or the things I take hold of in this phase of my relationship with Him are things that He knows will pull me away from Him, that he take them from me. That he take them away even if it makes me scream and cry. Even if it is painful and hurts me. Because I would rather have none of the things I want from this world and spend eternity with Him than gain everything and lose my soul. It’s a hardcore prayer I know. And I admit that I may be asking for some painful times ahead if I don’t change my desires. But I know His ways are better than mine and that ultimately, His way will lead me to more happiness than my way could ever gain. I know this because I’ve tried it my way. And my way didnt’ work. And God’s word said that would happen. And I made a choice to leave my way so that I could follow his way, and with that choice, God has blessed me so much in so many ways. But I think I expected too much from God in the process. I expected that because I chose to follow Him, that He would immediately reward me with every desire of my heart. And I find myself  now, a year and a half from the time I gave my life to the Lord,  without some of the things I want so much, it hurts. And instead of looking around at what I do have and saying thank you, I’m just whining and wanting more, and worried I won’t get it. Could my worry be the problem He needs to work out of me before He can bless me with the rest of my heart’s desires? It is grace through faith that saves me in the next life, but could it be works that earn God’s blessing in this one? And if that is so, I have a long way to go. Because I’m sure once God purifies me of my worry, He will show me the next sin I struggle with. A sin I don’t even realize I have because I am so blinded by the others.

I worry. I know it’s wrong because it shows a lack of trust in God. But is it different, if it’s a lack of trust that is enrooted in my fear that perhaps what I want is not what I need and the things I want, I want too much…..idolizing them almost, and therefore never going to get God to will them in my life. I worry I won’t stop worrying. Will I ever allow Him alone to be enough?

My New and Improved Salad

Salad, no dressing please. This is a request no one would ever hear come out of my mouth, but now I’m not so sure. My friend Kelly invited me over for dinner the other night and served a spring green salad with it. When I asked where was the dressing, she responded pleasantly that she didn’t use dressing. Well, I’m somewhat of a food adventurist and decided to dive in and give it a try. It had cheddar cheese on it, maybe that would suffice. Well, I was pleasantly surprised. It tasted great! And with my analtical nature, I sought to figure out why. The key is the type of greens. I was raised on romaine lettuce and homemade Italian dressing which I continue to make for my dinner side. I’ve perfected this salad. But, the salad needs the dressing. The dressing is the most important ingredient! The salad Kelly served was a mix of fresh baby spinach, baby romaine and baby leaf. The flavors of these plants are less bitter, and when topped with cheese, are quite flavorful.

So the last few nights I have changed my childhood salad recipe and swapped out my romaine for a new type of greens. I still love my dressing, so I’ve kept that, but make it much milder so as to not overpower the mild and flavorful taste of the greens. I also added a couple of other lettuces that taste good too. But, seriously…if I run out of vinegar, I won’t be running out the door as quickly and will not be afraid to just eat it as is.

Here is the recipe, so simple and so good

Mama Theresa’s Spring Salad

Serves enough for one large personal salad or two small side salads

In a medium sized bowl mix the following:

• Two cups of mixed fresh fresh baby butter, tango, baby spinach, baby leaf, and baby romaine lettuces.
• A few slices of dark red bell pepper
• A few slices of cucumber
• A quarter cup of thinly sliced red cabbage
• One diced green onion including both bulb and chive
• 2-3 oz of diced medium to sharp cheddar cheese

Now the dressing here is a lighter version of my normal dressing, but perfect. I’ll be honest, I’m estimating the amount below as I just pour and shake but this feels right. In the end, start light, and add more if you need more flavor.

• 2 tablespoons of olive oil
• 2 dashes of red wine vinager
• 3 shakes of Lawry’s garlic salt
• 2 shakes of pepper

Toss and enjoy!