Something Weird


I received this image in my mind a few days ago.

The world around us is like a limitless field full with boxes. Each box contains an “item” that has the power of life or the power of death in it.
When we come into the world, we are without sin, but prompted to sin. Because we live in a broken and sick world, our inclinations lead us to choose the things under the patronage of death. It is unnatural to us to love and be kind.
The boxes under the influence of life are love, faith, hope, and other like these.
The boxes under the influence of death are hate, anger, depression, pride and other like these.

We are born with particular boxes closer to us than others, depending on the spiritual inheritance we have from our parents / ancestors, and on the environment around us.
With every little choice we make, we trigger our attitudes and traits that build our character for life or death.

Every single box is an entire world by itself. The more we spend time rummaging in it, the more life or death imprints its power inside us, making us more sensitive to the same pattern.
Our habits sprout their roots in us into one of these two, life or death. One of these two gets stronger than the other. The desolation is that even though we want to do good, the bad is stuck to us.
“For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. … So then, I myself in my mind am a slave to God’s law, but in my sinful nature a slave to the law of sin.” Romans 7

There is only one way to switch from accessing the boxes of death. That’s Jesus Christ.
When / if we are sick and tired of the same path of depression, anger, broken relationships and other things like these, one simple call is enough.
Jesus. He is near.


A Tale in a Store

applesSuch a beautiful morning to drive to my favorite store. Got out of the vehicle and held my pants with one hand while pushed the door with the free one. So what if the guy parked next to me spilled his coffee while watching? Is it forbidden to wear your jeans even though they were made for the Barbie-dolls-kind-of-princesses?

Lifted my head high with confidence and walked to the sidewalk carrying my bags. I am one of the 48% of the Californians who voted to keep the plastic bags in place. But who cared? Since my own flesh and blood voted for a clean environment.
Never mind.

Stepped in the store and remembered my Black Friday shopping approach. As some of you already read about it, that went well.
I’m looking for persimmons. And just in case they don’t have them, I’m ready to lower my standards and get a few apples.
Then this guy catches my eye. Tall, in his eighties, wearing an old model preacher-kind-of suit, no tie, but clean and melancholic, we cross our paths for a few times. He reminds me of my grandfather in his church clothes. Grandma even buried him in them.

I can’t find persimmons. Get apples and stand in the line at the only open register. The man who is checking out is the spiffy one.
An elderly woman in her late seventies is between us. We both wear the same kind of jeans.
The man and the cashier talk about the cold weather and soon after he is on his way out.
“Such a gentleman in a suit.” the lady can’t help herself and continues, “This is so rare these days.”
The cashier picks up the idea.
“Oh, yes, he looks so well put together.”
The shopper is still in awe. “I like a man who knows how to wear a good outfit. I bet he opens the door for a woman.”
She finally leaves.

When I get out, I can see her walking through the parking lot and searching the perimeter with her eyes. Maybe he is still there.
This is what a grocery store can do to a woman.

Her First Letter to Santa

Christmas Child Write Letter to Santa Claus, Kid in Santa Hat WrThis is what my granddaughter, who just learned the letters, told me she was going to write in her first letter to Santa.
“Buni, I’m going to ask Santa to bring you one thousand babies.”
I roll my eyes. How does she know that number?
“No, thank you. Ask something for yourself.”
She is unmovable in her decision. When she smiles, I can see that one of her new teeth is bigger than the others. She is adorable. I keep frowning and shaking my head.
“Don’t do it, Katelin Hope.”
She doesn’t care. She has the power.
“Then I’ll come and see you with all those babies in your arms. They will even pull your hair.”
“Noooo!” I whisper. I hold her hands and beg. “You need to help me care for all the babies.”
She takes a deep breath of satisfaction.
“Then I’ll go home.”

Parenting and War

On December 1989  I had a 6 years old, a 4 years old and I was 30 weeks pregnant. It was war on the streets. The people were fighting to overcome the communists. The men in our block-of-flats had blocked the entry and chained the gate to keep away the armed agents of the system. We could hear gun shots from our condo and the children and I were pretty scared. There was some food in the fridge and, with all the madness in the city, I was thankful that we still had water, electricity and heat.


The children were playing all day long since the hard situation was prolonging from days to weeks. Every time when we went to buy the basics from the store at the end of the street, I knew it wasn’t safe to be out there. People were killed everywhere, even in the hospitals. There were cars riding on the streets with armed killers who would shot anybody. My husband was a guard for a new politician in the city and I had to buy the necessities for us. I walked and prayed.

We had a Christmas tree in the living room and nothing to decorate it. We didn’t have gifts for the children.

On Christmas Eve I wrote a note on a paper with “Santa couldn’t come this year because of the war,” and put it on in the bare tree to read it to my little ones. Of course they were disappointed, but I had saved some flour and eggs and made a cake for them. That was it.

We celebrated Christmas with our hearts and hiding from bullets in the bathroom.



From One Single Mother to Another

Tricia-Somers-and-Wesley_1It’s Christmas Eve. Families everywhere get together. You may or may not have loved ones around. Even if you have them, one place would still be empty. The warm spot in your soul. Children, and then our parents, siblings, friends if we have, fill our life, or not, but at least they make it whirl.
There are times like this when we might have an acute feeling that something is missing.
We are still in our pjs at midday on Christmas Eve and trying to figure out how to fix the stove or unplug the toilet. The kids, full of sugar, fight over the iPad.
Ah, if there would be a land for single mothers where we could hide instantly by opening the door of our closet.
Until then, we need to hang on. The help is on his way.
Merry Christmas!

Papa Said “No”

I was walking with my 20 month old granddaughter yesterday. They live in a beautiful neighborhood with beach cottages and houses hidden behind trees and flower bushes.
Our little one kept running all the way down the street. Tired already, I was trying to remember when toddlers stop running and choose to just walk? Well, I didn’t remember that and continued following her in a fast pace.
I could tell she had learned keeping the sidewalk since she wasn’t interested in running to the road. But she liked getting on the small paths to the houses’ front doors.
Aware of that, I kept holding her hand when we passed by a new house. She didn’t like it and tried to have us go to the front door, until I said:
“Papa said ‘No.’ “
She looked at me, frowned and stopped.
We walked further and when she run towards a new front yard again, I used the same words:
“Papa said ‘No.’ ”
She stopped visible unpleased.
We continued playing that game and it worked.
My poor mama ( I said “poor” because I was stubborn and didn’t want to listen, ) she tried that magic with me as well.
“Just wait until your father comes home.”
Sometimes that worked, as well.