Eulogy for my abuelita

For mama Chelia

My Mama Chelia was my kind of woman, She was my very own Sophia Petrillo, a tough broad with no fur on her tongue, strong fists and backbone, not a crybaby at all. She was a woman unafraid to punch a man, unafraid to guffaw from her belly, unafraid to tell you exactly what she thought. She could slaughter a hog, plow a field, herd sheep, and cook for a houseful of relatives. Until her eyesight began to fail, she would read her Bible and several newspapers daily. As happens with many immigrants’ children, I was only able to visit Mama Chelia every several years. Thousands of miles separated us. She didn’t get to raise me, cook for me, care for me,watch me grow from newborn to adult. I wish that I had one of my grandparents in my life to coddle me, spoil me, shield me from the pain. I grieve that loss of love,culture, wisdom. I grieve her death but I also grieve her absence. I always loved her and I always missed her..

My favorite memories of Mama Chelia were made during our family trip to Churin. None of us had ever visited. We wanted to experience the hot springs; we hoped they might do my mother’s back some good. After a grueling bus trip over unpaved roads, we arrived at the bottom of a dusty gray hill. This can’t be it, I thought, as locals swarmed the bus with waving arms and shouted offers of lodging. Men and women offered rooms or beds in their homes. They offered meals and warm blankets. They shouted out prices in soles and American dollars. I pulled my bag out of the luggage compartment while my parents discussed next steps. I looked uphill . Wooden signs along the path indicated that the town plaza was up past where I could see.

“We’re not staying with strangers. I’ll find a hotel,” I told my mom in Spanish. I started walking up the hill and half dragged my wheeled suitcase over rocks, gravel, and dirt. My mom panicked and asked my dad to intervene but I was on a mission. I looked for the best looking hotel in the town square and chatted up the front desk clerk as my family entered the building.

“A su madre, que elegante,” Chelia said.She kept making similar exclamations as she admired the hallway and her room. She was impressed and consistently made comments on how nice everything was.

When we visited the hot springs, we decided to enter the community bath. Mama Chelia took to the hot water. She laughed and chatted. When another family entered with their grandfather, Mama Chelia got quiet. The old man seemed nervous and uncomfortable. He entered the water reluctantly. Mama Chelia responded by suddenly splashing the old man several times.

“Mira este chibolito” The old man cowered but everyone else laughed and laughed.

The man ‘s daughter said “Ay, que graciosa la abuelita.”

On the bus trip back to Huacho, my mom’s back pain got the best of her. She began to weep silently as she struggled to find a comfortable sitting position. Mama Chelia watched her, at first with curiosity and then with exasperation. She told my mom she was going to slap her upside the head for being a crybaby. When that failed to get a different reaction, Mama Chelia held my mom close and rubbed her back, shoulders, and head. I have to admit it made me tear up. My mom didn’t grow up with Mama Chelia. She moved in with her maternal grandparents as a toddler. But I know that hug meant so much.

One of my last memories of Mama Chelia are from the summer of 2014 when I celebrated my birthday by taking my immediate family to Peru. How wonderful to watch Mama Chelia interact with M. I loved seeing Mama Chelia smile at my daughter, how she told her to take a cuy home. She told her how to feed it alfalfa and how it could have lots of babies and my daughter could raise a whole brood. My little brown daughter smiled shyly at my little brown granny. These beautiful brown women who are the bookends to my life. My roots and my blossom, the origin and the continuation of a long tradition of strength and sass.

How lucky I was to experience these memories with Mama Chelia. She was a light, a fire, a beacon home. Her eyes told you she was no fool. Her smile told you she was not cruel. Rest well, Mama Chelia. Put up your knife and broom. Put away your dishrag and pan. Here there are no husbands, no warring children. Sit. Have some cancha, some sopa, un te. Rest now. Te lo mereces.

An example of growth

Mar25

holiness

Recently on a Sunday morning, I heard Donnie McClurkin preach about being an example. He noted how often in the church we are told to be examples which we interpret to mean examples of perfection. We no longer strive to be examples. We give up.”Well I’m not perfect so therefore I’m not a good example for folks.” McClurkin pointed out that we need to be examples of growth. Our testimony needs to be about the mistakes that we have made and the progress that we’ve made.

Growth is central to my faith life. I base the majority of my writing on my growth. When people ask me for advice, I’m good at couching my words appropriately. I’m aware of how it could be taken. If we have a trusting friendship, I’m going to open about my progress. I am not perfect. I am honest about my weaknesses. The majority of my blogging in the last decade has been about where I need to grow, where I am weak,and where I struggle. I struggle with fear, pettiness, and the desire to be vengeful.These are all challenges with which I continue to mature. All of the struggles that I have endured, whether they have been emotional, professional, mental, or physical, have helped me become stronger through faith. Like everyone who practices a religious faith, I experience periods in which my faith is shaken, weak, or lazy. It doesn’t waver. There are times when I don’t feel like praying, reading the scriptures or doing spiritual reading. II don’t make an effort to be disciplined. Even during those periods of struggle, I find great comfort and inspiration in my faith. It is my faith that has given me the strength to grow as much as I have.

One complaint I have heard others make about people of faith is the feeling that we presume those who not practice or believe do are lesser than. The term “holier than thou” arose because people have used their religious practice or faith as a means of shutting themselves off from others. This is a mistake as people striving towards holiness because holiness is about wholeness. I cannot be a whole person if I’m not part of a whole community. If I look at others as sinners or judge others as not worthy to be saved, I have missed the meaning of what it means to be holy.

In last Sunday’s Gospel, we learn that God loves us. He loves our imperfect world. He loves humanity, which, by its nature, is flawed. He loves us.. He doesn’t expect us to be perfect. He wants us to grow. He gave us an offering of his love and faith in us through his son. That is hard for us to understand. One of my struggles is to truly accept His love. I feel pressure to be perfect I’m not perfect. I’m loved but I’m number 57 or 338 or 1250 on his list. Those thoughts are about me not about His love.

I’m thankful to Pastor Donnie McClurkin for sharing his wisdom and helping me to reflect on the Gospel. I’m grateful to Dynamic Catholic for continuing to push me to reflect on questions about myself and for always reminding me that my faith will help me find the answers. I hope I have the courage to share how I am an example of growth. My faith does not make me different from others. It is part of what makes me strong. if you’re a person of faith, I encourage you to read the scriptures or find some spiritual reading to help deepen your growth. If you are Catholic, visit Dynamic Catholic and take part in Best Lent Ever. It has changed my faith life and therefore my life. Whatever your stance on spirituality and faith, find something that brings you closer to feeling whole. That will bring you closer to being holy.

Giving it over

Apr5

“Be still and know that I am God.”Psalm 46:10

It is one of my favorite verses and one of my favorite songs. One morning, I sat in silence to speak to God from my heart. With my job search officially beginning, the question I’m pondering the most is one most working parents face. How do I strike a balance between moving on in my professional growth and being present for my child? Unlike the adults in my life, my child is not excited about my search for a new challenge. It has actually caused her anxiety, sadness, and fear. She worries that this could be another challenge for us.

I want my next career move to enrich our lives. I know that idea may seem naive; as you move on in leadership and take on greater responsibilities, you take on more duties which take more time, energy, and thought. I want to be a good mom, to make time for my writing, deepen my faith life, and be physically fit. Now I have to prioritize and rethink how my goals will be affected by a change in employment. It’s exciting and worrisome.

I’m giving it over to God. It is what we are called to do when the struggle is the greatest. As someone who worked to become an independent free thinker, relinquishing power and authority is a struggle. I spent so much of my life being passive; I still have room for growth. I have been blessed by trusting in God. My prayer is for God to guide me towards a new job that will be good for M and my family. I want to serve my purpose.

In silence, I notice what I usually don’t during my commute: the trees, the clouds, and the sky. These are beautiful signs of spring. I’m so busy running around that I’ve missed them most of the time. I’ve missed so much of what’s around me because of what’s happening within me. I want my next opportunity to allow me to enjoy more of these moments. I look forward to landing where I need to be.

23b5300d4a4b749469c13c3f61d25e1b

Right on schedule

Dec17

lemonade-e-juice

“He’s a God you can’t hurry,

You don’t have to worry;

He may not come when you want Him

But he’s right on time, right on time. “Traditional Gospel hymn

I have refused to give up on this Advent. (Last year’s Advent of struggle ) As expected, I have been put to the test during this season. On one hand, I have a wounded dragon heaving its last toxic breaths.

Vandervals’ “Wounded Dragon”

On the other, there is the prospect of yet another round of hoping for a leopard to willingly change his spots.

The guy on the right is the inspiration for The Police’s “Don’t Stand So Close to Me”

(Truth be told, I’m not waiting at all but I’m loyal to a fault and I will do as directed, even if I get a little Ben Linus on occasion.) ci-59798115230130361

I had a moment yesterday when I wavered, when all my anger, frustration, and indignation threatened to cloud my mind and fill my eyes with tears. But I remembered to breathe, pray, and hold tight to my commitment to this Advent. I moved forward in more ways than one. Yesterday, I made a choice.

I’ve already owned my penchant for pettiness. Shoot, I even have the casual Fridays t-shirts to prove it. My pettiness is amusing at times, other times worthy of criticism. But it hasn’t held me back in the way my lack of self-confidence does. Oh sure I’ll dance on stage or on the streets with little practice. I’ll take the mic and put together a speech on the fly. But my career has been stifled by my inability to see myself as a leader. I have worked for twice as long as several peers who are at the helm their own ships. Yesterday, through the darkness of my emotions, I found the strength to own that my time has arrived. It is my time to lead, guide, and shepherd. I have vision, purpose, and integrity; now I am emboldened by the courage to stand alone.

At the end of a stressful workday or any day for that matter, I have to answer to myself, my family, and my God. How have I been the best version of myself today? How am I going to be the best version of myself tomorrow? Soon, I will live out the answers to these questions in the spotlight. My mistakes will be my own. My decisions will be my own. I will struggle and fail but I will learn. That in turn will help me grow in the woman I was born to be.

While I may be tempted to take Hot Sauce out my bag and mess up a window or two, I can’t let others’ tomfoolery make me resort to my worst self. I am finally going to fix myself some long overdue lemonade. beyonce-car

These hands will have to stick to prayer and to getting my paperwork together for my next job. God will continue to give me the strength and patience.

After the battle

Nov5

So we took on the dragon. While I don’t know if it’s slain, I know it’s languishing in its respective corner.

Dragon

Meanwhile, I’m over in ours laid out. Tired. Spent.

Because, like the days following a half-marathon or the ressaca do carnaval, the days following a confrontation with an enemy are long. In that time, te pondras a pensar. You will ponder many things. I ponder my integrity and my identity.

Confrontation isn’t in my nature. I’ve gotten better over the last decade about standing up for myself. But I struggle with not becoming what I am fighting. I don’t want to be cruel, judgmental, resentful, or vindictive. I don’t like wishing the worst for others. While doing so may feel satisfying in the moment, it drains me in the long run. I would rather heal and help.

So how do I sustain myself? I go back to the familiar and the beloved. My child.

Family costume 2016: 50s Flashback

Books.

With the fabulous and hilarious Luvvie Ajayi

Laughter.

Photobombed at Grace Jones

Time outdoors.

Dance.

Flash Mob Tribute to Prince, September 2016

Family traditions. My faith.

My running club: Mis antepasados y muertitos queridos

I turn back to that which feeds my soul and that which reminds me of who I am. I am a mujer constantly evolving.

17 year old sideeye

Fox in Socks at 44

Revealing relapse

Aug7

“There is trouble in the air, destruction is everywhere
And men are being trampled beneath the soil
And nations, great and small, have now begun to fall
Oh come let us go back to God, go back to God” written by Thomas Dorsey, as sung by Donnie McClurkin

When I talk about backsliding, I often mean it negatively. When I backslide, I’m going to back old, often negative, habits and ways of thinking. Like every normal person, I have times when I’m disciplined, motivated, and therefore feeling and being successful. If I “relapse” into past behavior, it is usually because I’m exhausted, demoralized, and struggling physically, mentally, and/or emotionally. Life goes in cycles. It’s never a journey of point A to point B. So why do I hold myself to that unrealistic black and white thinking? What if “going back” has its benefits?

Para los que me conocen, y’all know I’m often goal-driven. I take on reading challenges, savings challenges, and prayer challenges. I train for half-marathons and for street performances of various choreographies. I do weeklong class hops, novenas of daily masses, 40 day fasts, and multi-week fitness programs. But I don’t always complete these goals to the best of my ability. Sometimes I don’t complete them at all. Then I spend some time beating myself up about those failures. Fortunately, time and life experience has taught me to seek humility. Life has taught me that failure is a good time to turn back to God.

I said it. As important as my faith life is to me, God doesn’t always come first. “Well, I guess we won’t go to Mass Carnaval weekend because I’m not about to sit in church in my costume.” God doesn’t always fit on a busy schedule. While I thank God when I’m succeeding, I spend less time with Him while I’m busy working towards that success. I’m going, going, going. Literally and figuratively running. A quick grace over a rushed meal. Half a rosary done on the commute from one family activity to another. I don’t build in time for devotion.

It is in times of struggle and failure that I truly give myself over to God. When I’ve been diagnosed with illnesses, I have stood with God. When I’ve struggled with work situations, I have had long, emotional conversations with God. When I have lost loved ones, I have found comfort from God. Where human motivation and individual goals waver, God is constant.

I know I have lots of work to do in the next few months. I will make my faith life part of that work. Going back to God is wonderful. Staying with Him must be a goal.

The other sibling

Mar13

That’s big bro on the right passing judgment

For years, I have pondered the apparent good fortune of people who engage in meanness and foolishness. Earlier this week, I grumbled that my good friend died young while an individual who has recently faced discipline for their lack of professionalism is “hale and hearty.” Another acquaintance, a woman of integrity and compassion, is facing a family tragedy. As someone who strives to always take the high road, I struggle with feeling compassion for others, especially if I don’t feel they deserve it.

Last Sunday’s Gospel reading is one of my favorites, the parable of the Prodigal Son. Each time I hear this parable, I hear something new or I relate to the story in a different way. At present, I hear the words of the indignant older brother.

“’Listen! For all these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command; yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came back, who has devoured your property with prostitutes; you killed the fatted calf for him!’ “Luke 15: 29-30, Holy Bible New Revised Standard Version

How often do I cringe when someone I judge as unworthy goes unpunished or is even celebrated? I have no problem admitting one of my greatest flaws is my judgmental attitude.

The loving father offers wisdom, “‘Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.’” Luke 15: 31-32, Holy Bible New Revised Standard Version

The father does appreciate his elder son; he does not love him less because he is less of a problem child. The father wants to celebrate the willingness of his younger son to change. He wants to celebrate his younger son taking the first step to being a good person.

Like the elder son, I have a self-righteous streak. I focus on the other person’s flaws and wonder why they are reaping benefits I feel they haven’t earned. Also, I struggle with those who have yet to choose change. I find it challenging to have compassion for those who are in the throes of behavior I find problematic. It is hard work to learn to forgive and accept.

Once I was that prodigal child. I found forgiveness and joy in acceptance. I pray that someday I may act more like that loving parent, one who waits with open arms and open heart to receive a lost soul. I’m praying daily.

A Lenten miracle

Feb21

As happens every Lent, my daughter’s school hosts the Stations of the Cross every Friday. An upper grade combines with a lower grade and the children read from Scripture, act out the scene, and help us to reflect. They charm us with the cuteness of the little ones and move us with the depth of insight of the older children. I have had to miss the last few events due to my work schedule. Now that my daughter is an avid reader, she was assigned three stations to read with a 7^thgrade partner. I’m sure I could have requested personal time in advance. However, given recent developments, my boss and I now have a standing meeting with an individual every Friday. Te puedes imaginar how I looked when I realized that I would be spending time with said person, rather than experiencing a Lenten tradition with my child.

This Chihuahua is my spirit animal; I give this look when #icant

It’s not very Lenten or Catholic of me, I know, but I’m also the writer who brought you You’re Ruining My Advent. To make matters worse, my boss was unavailable to join the meeting and asked if I could handle it on my own.

Though I admit I wanted to say no, I couldn’t possibly handle it, I took a few moments to gather my thoughts before agreeing to move forward. So while my daughter took the microphone and read Scripture, I fought the urge to read this person.

“Shade comes from reading…reading is the real art form of insult” Paris is Burning

I did not give out a piece of my mind. I conducted the meeting calmly and professionally.

Was it a Lenten miracle? Grace? Personal will? All of the above. I have the ability to choose how I act. I have the ability to choose whether or not my emotions will control me or I will control them. I choose to treat people with respect. I choose to leave another’s dignity intact. In doing so, I commemorate the Stations of the Cross. So while I would have preferred to be at the Stations of the Cross in person, I was with my daughter in spirit. In reflection, I see how the Stations she was assigned speak to the situation I experienced.

The 3^rd Station: Jesus falls for the first time

My faith journey has been one of struggle and failure. I have never pretended to be someone for whom faith and religious practice come easily. I fall all the time. Though I don’t fall quite like I did before I got my mind right, I have moments of weakness. My anger against the co-worker or any other person who may have slighted me is a feeling with which I wrestle. I know it is not right to hold grudges or pass judgment. I am praying for those who anger me. I am praying for a heart of forgiveness and compassion.

The 4^th Station: Jesus meets his mother

My faith journey has been shaped by those I love. My own mother taught me to pray. While her methods in doing so were not always gentle, they gave me words that have sustained during my most challenging trials. I wrapped a rosary around my arm when I went into labor with my daughter. I pray before every appointment, test, and medical procedure. I prayed before the Friday work meeting. Now that I’m a mother, I walk with my daughter in her faith journey. Together, we pray the rosary, attend Mass, read the Gospels, and talk about our faith. When she struggles, I struggle. When she hurts, I hurt. Love and faith are intertwined.

The 5^th Station: Simon helps Jesus carry the cross

Despite my personal struggles, I accept the call to serve others. I do so in my career. I do so in my personal life. I may want to decline sometimes. I may be angry, indignant, fearful, exhausted. But I take up the cross. In doing so, I remember who I truly am. I am a person of faith and compassion.

This struggle is Lent. Lent is a time to accept our humanity in all its facets and to accept the call to love others. Lent is a journey toward peace.

The other shoe drops

May30

I suppose I forgot. With all the glitter and feathers and glorious, glorious purples all around us, I was lulled into forgetfulness. But that 20/20 hindsight soon kicks into high gear, especially when you’re waiting for an hour or more in a waiting room or examination room, and then I remember the clues. The twinges of pain Sunday morning and Monday morning. The low energy which I thought was a symptom of a ressaca do carnaval(post-Carnaval “hangover”, quite similar to the post-race blues I experience after half-marathons). The inability to sleep on either side without discomfort Thursday night worried me most. Friday morning it became all too familiar.

I am so in tune with my body now that I know when something has shifted. So in saying I forgot, I have not forgotten that my health must come first. I remember to take my daily pills. I know to call the doctor as soon as I notice something. I know to take the earliest appointments. I remember the pain and its accompanying emotions; I can admit I purposefully let go of my memories of those. Now I accept them. I let the tears fall, if only in the safety of my car in the hospital parking lot. I ask the questions of God and my body, if only in my head.

Since my last relapse, I have learned how to better manage my illness. Through the work I did with M’s wonderful counselor, I know to keep any negative emotions or serious conversations about my health private, shared only with Rambo or other adults. In terms of my physical health, I know the next steps well and can mentally prepare myself for the physical discomforts that may result. I know to pray and pray some more. I know to ask for prayers.

This morning, I registered for my 16^thhalf-marathon to be done this November. Because I know to move forward.

My newest theme song

Mar7

“Once I get you up there, where the air is rarified

We’ll just glide, starry-eyed

Once I get you up there, I’ll be holding you so near

You may hear angels cheer ‘cause we’re together,” Come Fly with Me”

La vida da vueltas. Life moves in cycles. At least once in a week in our house, these cycles can be broken down into choreography, “all the way around…all the way around”. My daughter is now a competitive dancer and more than ever, she is dancing with all of her being. She dances with her limbs and, when her confidence is strong and the music fills her, with her eyes and her smile. She is beginning to understand why dancing is such a wonderful expression of self and joy.

It has been a season of milestones. As we prepared for M to take part in her first competition, I underwent a new series of medical examinations. At first I suspected a flare-up in my IGM. So we began a round of antibiotics. After an ultrasound revealed changes in my gall bladder, I have been assigned a new surgeon (the wonderful surgeon who oversaw my recovery last years has retired) and I will soon be discussing next steps. I am feeling better physically but emotionally I have my moments of panic and wistfulness. Last year’s journey was challenging. I don’t want to miss out on M’s season of competitions and shows. I don’t want to miss out on another Carnaval. It doesn’t take much for me to become tearful.

As one of my favorite writers Hettie Jones writes, “See we tender women live on.” I was grateful to focus my energy on M’s dance journey. It was a whirlwind weekend in Dance World. Her costumes were adorable. Her makeup looked great. My mom and I were schooled in the art of putting up thick, heavy hair into a French twist. I cried happy tears as M danced her first routine before the judges. The song they danced to felt like an anthem.

When we got home, I continued to sing or whistle “Come Fly with Me, “both at home and at work. Why had it resonated with me? The lyrics are a romantic invitation to travel. The song is a reminder of the importance of taking opportunities to enjoy love and life. I realized that it is my time to fly with my daughter and my loved ones. No matter what doctors may tell me, my heart needs to rise and soar. Every day, I am invited to fly. Every day, I will take flight.

Mujer Evolving

musings on the personal, political, pop cultural, and maternal

Archives