(#8) Is This My Story to Tell? by Andrea

    Living in community means our lives will be commingled, and our stories will intersect with others. We have all heard someone from a small town lament something to the effect of 'everybody knows everybody's business here.' Some of this is inevitable when you're doing life together.  Yet, I have found that in families, churches, schools, and organizations,  there is sometimes something else at play. 

     Lauryn Hill has a line in one of her songs where she sings: 'Led to believe because we live in neighborhoods telling us what's going on will be all right.' We often feel obliged to tell other members of the community what's going on with someone else. We share someone's good news before they get to. We share someone's challenges with others and before we know, everyone is privy to that person's pain. We do not ask permission to share other people's tales with the rest of the community, as if the whole community has a right to know. I have been guilty of this myself before, especially in sharing someone's good news. I am a pretty good secret keeper and confidante. I think that's why people feel safe sharing intimate details of their lives with me. They come for a listening ear and often for me to speak life into their lives. That is a privilege I do not take lightly. To be trusted is one of the most important aspects of who I want to be, now and forever. 

    Yet I have always felt uncomfortable and uneasy when someone shares something about someone else that does not pertain to me or the sharer at all. I wonder if we all have that little sensor that goes off when we know we shouldn't be saying or hearing someone's tale. My general rule for other people's business is 'if I don't need to know, I don't want to know'. I learned this early in life.  Right around early adolescence my mother and grandmother began saying to me, 'if people will tell other people's business to you, they'll tell yours to other people.' I saw it play out in the years of middle and high school. That's about when it starts. Probably by age 9 or 10, we start telling other people's stories for them. I never wanted to be caught up in the mess of 'I heard you said blah, blah, blah about me!' So not talking about other people kept me out of that foolishness during my school days. People had to make up a lie in order to try to pull me into situations like that. 

     The line between gossip and care is very thin. Sometimes, we do need to share with a trusted source because we genuinely need advice in how to move forward or the story has had an effect on us and we need to work through it. My husband and I have ALWAYS gone to trusted confidants and advisors in major matters with our children. We had to share parts of the children's stories in order to tell ours and to get what we needed. Yet, even with our children, we do not share their stories willy nilly, without regard for their privacy and needs. It is so tempting to share about someone's trial and even their triumphs. I face it, too. But to keep myself far from crossing the line, I ask myself:

if this were my story, would I want someone I entrusted it to tell it to just anyone? Would I want this on the front page of the newspaper? Would I want this shared on social media? If it were my story, would I share it on social media, or with just anyone? How would I feel if I found out that others were discussing something personal, private and intimate in my absence? 

    

     Some people are open books with their lives. They may feel comfortable talking to absolutely any one who will listen. But that's for them to do, not me. Even if someone doesn't specifically ask for us to keep a secret, I believe we know intuitively, deep down inside, when that's the expectation or should be. 

    Gossip hurts everyone- the speaker, the listener and the main character in the narrative. Gossip destroys trust, integrity, and one's self-respect and esteem. I am pretty sure every major religion and philosophical teaching warns against it. There are all kinds of psychological reasons we indulge in it, but there are just as many reasons to abstain.          

    We all need safe places to let our soft spots show. We all need at least one person who we know will keep our confidences and have our backs. Let's all be the kind of people who others can count on to let them tell their own stories, especially those that reveal their challenges and vulnerabilities. We can talk to who we need to in order to process our thoughts, feelings and part in the story, but make sure that's what we're doing, not just spilling the tea as the young folks say.

-Andrea 

Changes and Constants by Carolyn

My family reunion was yesterday. My mother's family has, as long as I can remember, held a reunion each summer. Some aspects remain constant through the years, some aspects change, much like everything else in our lives. My mother was one of seven children; I am one of 23 first-cousins. We cousins are now in our forties, fifties, or sixties. Most of us are parents and some of us are grandparents, so two more generations have been added to the fray.

One of the best things that happened yesterday was the gift one of my cousins gave me of a thumb drive full of photos from the past several reunions. Such a treasure! As I looked through the photos, I was struck by the changes that have happened over the last few years, as well as the things that have endured.

Through the years, we have always had our reunions at low-cost venues. We are not the kind of family that books whole floors at swanky hotels or travels to exotic locations or swarms onto a cruise ship en masse. We tend to hold our reunions in the backyards of family members or around picnic tables at public parks. This has not changed. The duration of the reunions has changed, though: in my youth, we spent an entire weekend at our reunions, often at Bastrop State Park. We rented cabins and communed together for a couple of days. The kids swam and walked through the woods and biked on the trails. The grownups played dominoes and cards and horseshoes. We all chatted and laughed and forged family bonds. These days, our reunions only last one afternoon. Our lives seem to have gotten busier and busier, and there are often many family members who cannot attend our gatherings.

We have always eaten well at our family reunions. We are not the sort of people to have our food catered - it is always good ol' home cooking, nothing fancy, but always abundant and delicious. There have always been, and probably always will be, several different casseroles and favorites such as potato salad, baked beans, fried chicken, and ham. And the desserts . . . banana pudding, lemon meringue pie, chocolate cake. It all tastes like home. And we always say grace before the meal. Even if our family members never pray in their private lives, or only enter a church to attend a wedding or a funeral, we all join in giving thanks for our food and our fellowship. We honor the heritage of our ancestors' strong Christian faith. (This year, however, I missed the prayer because my three-year-old grandson, Jude, got tired of waiting for everyone to gather around. He pulled me out of the circle by the hand and led me to his full plate waiting on the table. I feel somewhat less guilty because we did sing the "Thank You, Jesus" song he has learned in Mothers' Day Out together.)

As time has gone on, we have lost many of our family members. My grandparents, my mother, two of her sisters, and three of my cousins have passed away, as well as my husband, my brother-in-law, and three uncles by marriage. We mourn together over those we have lost. We tell stories about the good memories we have of them, and laugh together over silly things. We cry, but we also smile because there are almost always new babies making their debut at one of the reunions. (Our newest family member this year was my granddaughter, Malin. It puffed me up a little bit to hear my relatives exclaim over how beautiful she is!) There is always an abundance of children. Some run around, wending their way through small clusters of their elders, looking for something to eat or something to amuse themselves. The teens lounge about looking bored. They have not yet learned to value the importance of family gatherings, especially with people they only see once a year. They don't realize that the stories we tell are their own history, their own inheritance.

I remember going to the family reunions every year with my mother when I was a child, a teenager, and a young woman. I remember taking my children to the reunions when they were babies, young boys, and teenagers. Now I am going to the family reunions with my grown sons, my daughter-in-law, and my own grandchildren. I am grateful that my boys will make the effort to go with me. They have come to understand how important that family connection is to me.

There is always lots of conversation at our gatherings. The older generation tells about what they remember of their parents and grandparents and growing up together. My generation reminisces about adventures as cousins together or catch up on whatever has changed in our lives since last year. We talk about the tragedies and the triumphs that befall our family members.

I am worried that, as the older generation passes on and my generation of cousins continues to age and lead their separate lives, and family members move farther away from central Texas, there will be no strong bond among the younger generations. The family connection will be stretched thinner and thinner. Our reunions will likely die down to a just a handful of people, and then down to something that only happened in the distant past. It is a melancholy thought; but for now, I cherish the bond that unites me to these beloved people. We are a family.

Happy Anniversary!

Tomorrow I will be celebrating 36 years of marriage.  Although we always remember this special day, we have never made a big deal about it.  Usually we just go out to eat. It is not that we don’t appreciate our marriage or don’t recognize all the blessings and rewards our life together has brought us.  We do.  But without explicitly agreeing to it, we have come to give each other the gift of constancy - those qualities that attracted us to each other, that continue to fortify our “fortress for well-being”.  This year, I do want to testify publicly to my husband’s enduring gifts to me:

An open heart - The first time I spent any time with Ben was during a volunteer project, visiting Spanish speaking homes in a humble neighborhood in Houston.  At one house, we were invited in and offered food.  I had just arrived in the US and had very little experience with cultures and communities other than mine. Everything was new and unfamiliar to me.  Ben had a very different upbringing and had lived with diversity all his life.  He accepted the food and ate with gratitude and gusto.  I said to myself: I want to be like that, I want to feel at home with everyone.  I fell in love with his humility and his genuine love for these people we had just met.  When I tell this story, he brushes it off and says he was just hungry.

A well-trained mind - Although I was only nineteen years old when I got married, I knew enough to look for qualities that were enduring and would not fade away with the passage of time.  In our circle of friends, Ben stood out as a very knowledgeable person.  He read a lot, spoke several languages and knew something  about almost everything. He still does. He is very handy when we travel - no need for a tour guide.  I am also grateful that he has instilled that same love of learning in our children.

A different way of doing everything - I always say that it’s a good thing for our children that Ben and I are different in so many ways.  If we were both like me, our children would never leave the house, climb a tree, swim in an ocean or go down a zip line.  There would be a lot of pressure on academic performance.  If we were both like Ben, they would eat popcorn for dinner and be late to school every day.  Fortunately, we are different and we have each brought a different strength to parenting our four children. So they take risks, they love learning, they eat healthy food and they are usually on time.

The greatest lesson I have learned from my husband is that if everything works out the way we planned it, we would never feel God’s hand in our lives.  We started with lots of short and long term plans. We spent the first eight years of our marriage planning.  I used to quote from Of Mice and Men:
“Go on, George! Tell about what we're gonna have in the garden and about the
rabbits in the cages and about the rain in the winter and the stove, and how thick
the cream is on the milk like you can hardly cut it. Tell about that George."

Go on, Ben! Tell about how we’re gonna live in South America, and have children and have a house where all kinds of people gather.  Tell about that Ben.
And most of that did come true, but then the world got in the way and we had to change course. And that’s how we knew God was looking after us.  We moved back to the States and started over.  So now I say: Go on Ben! Tell about when we retire and move back to South America and have a house where all kinds of people gather. Tell about that Ben.

As I wonder what the next thirty six years will bring us, I try to remember the important things, the enduring gifts that have bound us together so far.

ABC's of ME-Part 2

ABC’s of ME

Part 2

Ice Cream

I don’t know what it is about ice cream, but it brings me a little summer anytime, anywhere.  Mint chocolate chip is my favorite.  On a sugar cone.  In case anyone was wondering. 

Juggling

I used to be fascinated with learning how to juggle.  It just looked like a cool thing to do, and I was always up for a challenge.  I started with napkins, since they were a little easier to catch, and they floated down so very gently and slowly.  Once I mastered juggling napkins, I moved on to tennis balls.  I never really got further than that.  I can’t even say that I actually mastered juggling tennis balls, but now I juggle something a little different.  I juggle tasks, events, schedules.  With two busy kids, you have to learn how to juggle activities, and other priorities that I find important.  For example, homemade meals together and actual conversations.  I juggle a little more carefully now, since the stakes are a little higher than some fluttering napkins.

Kit Kat

Favorite chocolate.  It’s crunchy. It’s sweet.  It comes in a pair, if you feel like sharing.  I never seem to though.

Logophile

Someone who loves words is called a logophile.  I have a notebook of words that I have collected.  Words that have powerful meanings.  Or words with cool sounds and pronunciations.  My favorite words currently are shenanigans and atrocious.  They are fun to say, and when you say it with a little extra oomph, it just makes you feel happy. 

Movies

I love them! I love them! I love them!  If you ask me what I feel like doing for the evening, it is possible that I will say, watch movie.  Movies inspired by true events are probably my favorites.  Followed very closely by romantic, undying love type of movies.  It really is hard for me to pick a favorite movie.  There are so many I love for so many different reasons.  I have my go to movie if I feel like a good cry, and I have ones I go to if I need a pep talk.  My sister and cousin, and now my children even, play a game in which you have to guess the movie based on the movie quotes someone else gives.  It’s quite fun on road trips!

Nostalgic

Some of my favorite trips are down memory lane.  I don’t mean to dwell in the past, but sometimes a smell or a song will take me back in time.  To a simpler day, or a perfect moment that is forever chiseled in my memory.  I don’t stay there long.  Just a short visit, but it warms me up all over.

Optimistic

“Be optimistic,

Don’t you be a grumpy.

When the road gets bumpy,

Just smile, smile, smile and be happy.”

As you have learned, I love movies.  There is a little song from the movie, Anywhere but Here, that always seems to come into my head when I am not having the best moment.  It is about a single mother who is doing the very best she can for her daughter.  Unfortunately, her daughter does not agree with the way the mother tries to get ahead.  When things went wrong, and they often did for the duo, she sang the song above.    It doesn’t necessarily change their luck, just like it doesn’t change my circumstances, but it does definitely make the tough moments a little easier to swallow.

Prayer

Prayer has always been in my life since I was young enough to remember.  There are pictures of my grandma and me walking around her house saying our prayers before bed.  I was in diapers.  I 100% believe in the power of prayer.  I don’t always take advantage of its benefits.  Sometimes I wake up and get to running before I even cover myself with protection and blessings.  Lucky for me, I remember, and get to praying. 

Quotes

 “A good quote is a beautiful bird! Wherever you meet with it, you will start flying with it!”

― Mehmet Murat ildan

Sophia Itzel Lara

She likes to say that she was probably doing pirouettes in my belly or toe touches.  That must have been what I felt when something was kicking in my belly.  I was overcome with emotion when they placed my green eyed girl in my arms for the first time, and I still feel that same way when I see that girl smile.  She has the sweetest heart, and I will do everything I possibly can to keep her that way.  I might have to lock her up in a tower or something.

~Esmeralda  

Introducing Me in ABCs -Part 1

A

A woman

A mother

A person

A me

A…which means one.  I am unique and it is ok to admit that.  It isn’t conceited or against the rules.  There is only one of me and there is only one of you.  

Books

I have my own library.  A wall full of books.  Children’s books, self-help books. Books I have read several times, and books I aspire to read.  I love books.  I’m hoping to one day see my name on the spine of a book in my library.

Cha cha

A nickname.  My nickname.  That just so happened to become my actual name for the majority of my early educational years.   The paperwork to be filled out was pretty straightforward. 

“Child’s first name-Esmeralda”

“Middle name”- left blank because I have no middle name, which always left me feeling slightly inadequate and incomplete.

“Last name-Villa”

Easy enough.  Then came the next question…

“Does your child go by another name?” 

Well, yes.  As a matter of fact I did.  
When I was born, my grandmother used to take care of my cousins and I.  My mom and dad were still in college, and luckily my grandmother made herself available to watch us.  I would go down for a nap, and my grandmother would tell my two cousins, who were slightly older to let the baby sleep.  Let the “muchachita,” little girl, sleep.  My cousins being little didn’t quite get the muchachita part all the way out, so it was shortened to chachita.  Which ended up being Cha cha, and it ended up on the little line as my mom registered me for kindergarten as the other name I happen to go by.  Quite a lot easier to say and spell than Esmeralda, so this became my name throughout elementary and all through my junior year in high school.   My friends from Colorado actually still refer to me as Cha cha.

Coffee

I drink coffee.  I love it.  It doesn’t have to be Starbucks contrary to the beliefs of many. (Although I do prefer my skinny vanilla latte)  I take my sips slow and steady.  Savoring every little drop.  When my cup is empty I am actually sad.  Like an actual feeling of sadness courses through my body.  Its more than just a little pick me up.   It’s soothing and calming.  It’s conversation around my grandmother’s table with the most exceptional women I know.  It’s stories, and history.  It’s love. 

Daniel

“So there is this boy, he kind of stole my heart.  He calls me mom.”  Kind of is an understatement.  From the moment he was born, my heart has been on my sleeve.  I am so proud of the young man he is becoming.  I love our conversations, and his hugs.  He will always be my baby, even though he is taller than me now.

Esmeralda

I become Esmeralda again when I moved to Texas.  My family and I moved the summer before my senior year in high school.  I was excited and nervous.  I knew things would be different starting high school my senior year as the new girl.  I also knew I did not want to be Cha cha in Texas.  I wanted to use my actual name.  The name I would write on my papers, and the name I would use to introduce myself would be my name, not a nickname.

Food

I like to eat.  I love food.   Not sure what else there is to say but that.

God

God is good.  All the time.

All the time.  God is good.

I could not make it through my day without Him.

Hernandez Women

I have always said that if I ever have any doubt of God’s love for me, I need only to look at the family I was blessed enough to be born into.   I have been loved by seven of the most giving and precious women.  My grandmother, mother, and five aunts.  I cannot describe how influential they have been for me, or begin to express all the gratitude and love I have for them.  I admire and respect each one.  They are by far the strongest, most God-fearing women I know.

~Esmeralda

What You Put in the Center by Carolyn Pierce

I recently came across this passage while I was reading:
       
We had one of those world maps with the U.S. right in the middle -- remember those? And one of the students looked at it and said, "How come the East Indies are in the west?" And that question got me thinking about the impact of what you put in the center, and what it does to everything else.*

I can picture exactly the map referenced in the quote. The map, presumably made by an American company, featured the United States smack-dab in the middle of the map. The U.S. looked huge compared to the rest of the countries in the world. I grew up thinking that the U.S. was the largest nation in the world. Because Russia (or the U.S.S.R., or whatever its name was at the time) was cut so that part of it was on the left side of the map and part of it was on the right side of the map, it didn't look nearly as big as it is in reality. Canada, stretching to the far north, grew smaller toward the Arctic, which fooled the eye. Imagine my surprise and disillusion when I came face-to-face with the realization that not only was the U.S. not the largest country in the world, it wasn't even the second largest! That kind of map lead me to believe a falsehood about the size of the U.S., and I am reasonably certain that it also (subliminally) led me to believe that the U.S. was the most important country on earth. Okay, maybe it is to me, but probably not to people in other countries. I wonder what the maps in their schools look like . . .

Reading this passage did make me think about maps, but it also spoke to me about other parts of life. I have heard many times the adage, "You make time for what matters", so let's take a look at our daily planners or the calendars we have hanging on the refrigerator. How often is quality time with family or friends written in? How much time each week is allocated to worship? If you wrote down the time spent in front of the TV or playing on an electronic device, would it totally fill your free time? Have you blocked out time for improving your physical health? Is there time each week for learning something new? Do you have any volunteer service penciled in? If someone else took a look at your calendar, could they see at a glance what you put in the center of your life?

As if that wasn't guilt-inducing enough, let's think about our thinking. What absorbs your thoughts? If you had a thought-o-meter, where would the needle point most often? Do you constantly think about your job, your money, your looks, your possessions, your importance in life? Do you continue to think about work even when you are relaxing with family or friends? They can tell, you know. Are your thoughts most often focused on self-pity, your trials and tribulations, how others have done you wrong -- the unpleasant things in your life? That shows on your face (and it is not pretty). Likewise, if your thoughts are most often concerned with the good things in your life (counting your blessings, so to speak), that shows on your face as well. Your thoughts are a sure indicator of what you have put in the center of your life.

Ditto for your words -- they are just thoughts with a voice.  What does your conversation reveal about what is at the center of your life?

Lest you think I am feeling "holier-than-thou", rest assured that what I am writing is very convicting for me as well. I need to examine my own calendar, my own thoughts, my own words to see what I have put at the center of my life. I'm afraid I will not be pleased by the conclusions I must draw. I feel the need to make a plaque for my wall so I can see it every day:
                                       
                                            What you put in the center impacts everything else.





*The passage (in a book called A More Beautiful Question by Warren Berger) is a quote from Deborah Meier, a revolutionary educator who founded the Central Park East schools in Harlem in the 1970s. Meier was talking about the importance of what you put in the center of the curriculum in schools, but the words spoke to me about life in general.

Not Such a Failure After All

The pain in my throat made it very difficult to swallow as I tried my hardest not to cry.  We were on our way home and the ambiance in the car was cheerful and lighthearted to everyone but me.  We had a lot of fun things going on during the weekend, and it was Friday, which meant that the mood was relaxed.  I knew it was going to happen.  The dam could only hold so much against the pressure that was coming at it, and I put on my sunglasses to mask the eruption that was about to happen.  Had we been outside it wouldn’t have mattered.  The rain coming down could have camouflaged the tears that were now streaming down my face. 

            How could it be?  Another failure.  Another check on my long list of insecurities and inadequacies.  I knew that I would be great at this new position because it involved something I cared so passionately about.  Was I wrong?  That was the question that circled around in my head after the call that left me wondering, what is wrong with me.  Why am I not good enough?  When am I ever going to catch a break?

            The harsh rain only added to my frustration, as the traffic now became worse.  All I wanted to do was get home, cover myself with a blanket and hide.  Another wave of tears made its way to the corners of my eyes, but were stopped before the downpour.  I felt a warm, gentle touch on my arm.  I looked over at my son who was watching me with a concerned look on his face.  I hadn’t realized that the sunglasses could only hide so much of my disappointment, and he was witnessing something other than the strong momma I liked to portray in front of them.

            “Mom, are you okay?” he said genuinely worried.

            “Yes, I am fine,” I said in a convincing voice. 

He kept looking at me, and then said, “Mom, God has a plan for everything. It’s going to be okay.”

            My little man had no clue about what was going on.  He only saw that his mom was upset about something, and used the words I have used so many times with him.

            Sometimes things don’t always work out.  I know this.  I’m a teacher and a mother.  Unpredictability is kind of part of the job description for both.  But I had taken the “failure” and turned it into an attack against myself.  I saw it as a problem, and made a list of things that were wrong with me, instead of trusting that God has a plan, like I had prayed just that very morning.    Life isn’t always going to give us what we want, and it’s essential to me that my kids know how important it is to keep moving forward after a setback.  Hearing those words come out of my son’s mouth made me feel like not quite so much a failure, and even though the sun didn’t shine much the rest of the weekend, it didn’t rain on us at all.

~Esmeralda