God turned off the faucet

"Commit to the Lord whatever you do, and your plans will succeed." Proverbs 16:3

The first time that I attended the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola, a 4-day silent retreat, I learned about the concept of consolation and desolation. This is what I wrote on my journal that weekend back in 2007:

Consolation are those moments when we feel the presence of God. We are overwhelmed with the power of God. We are so close to God that we feel Him in everything. Desolation is the complete opposite. We feel dry. We can't focus. God feels a million miles away. Desolation is a terrible feeling.

The novice thinks that consolation must come from God and desolation must come from the devil. Not true. The source of all consolation is God but desolation may also come from God. He may be using it as a tool to get our attention. When things are going well, we sometimes forget about God and thus, God turns off the faucet. He allows the desolation, the spiritual dryness, so that we can be reminded that He is the source of all goodness. Another reason why desolation occurs may be that God provokes it to call our attention to something He wants us to do different.

Our God is a jealous God. He provokes the desolation so that we give Him a little bit more of our time. God says: "It's easy to remain faithful to me when everything is going fine but how about when things turn around?" Being faithful and committed during those times of desolation is much more significant. We learn to appreciate God more because we have to work harder. We go through a purging or purification process. There's no ulterior motive. If we stick to it, it's because we have a pure desire to the commitment we have made.

One person that suffered through a huge period of desolation was St. Teresa of Calcutta. We learned about this after her death when her letters to her spiritual director were published. She felt that God had abandoned her. And yet, she never stopped serving the poor. Even though she felt like God had turned His back on her, she stuck to the commitment that she had made.

As this year 2016 comes to an end, I find myself in a huge stage of desolation. I know that God has not abandoned me, but I'm just having a hard time feeling Him nearby. This year has been a pretty tough year in more ways than one. Yesterday, I wrote in my journal my summary of 2016. I tried to concentrate on the blessings, because even though there was a lot of pain in 2016, there was also a lot to be thankful for. I am surrounded by wonderful and amazing people. My family and my friends are the best gifts that God has ever given me. This past year most of my meditations were about relationships. It was not an easy subject, but I learned a lot from it and it helped me to realize how blessed I am.

As we enter 2017, I'm going to share some letters that I have written to heaven through the years. I hope that as I go back in time, I will find the consolation that I'm seeking and I begin to feel God by my side once again. I know that He wants me to continue writing, but I feel that He has turned off the faucet of inspiration. I will stick to my commitment and hopefully, soon enough, I will see clearly what it is He wants from me.

Goodbye 2016. I pray that 2017 comes full of blessings for all.

My Best Friend, My Everything

"The greatest gift God gives is His presence. His name is Immanuel, God with us."
                                                                                                        Henry & Richard Blackaby

This year, most of my meditations were about relationships.  I started the year meditating about Mama Mary and Papa Joseph.  Then I continued the year covering almost all members of the family. And the last meditation I did about relationships was about friendship. But I noticed that I never mentioned my best friend. Even though I have many friends, there is one that has been by my side my entire life. We have a very close relationship. I have lots of journals filled with letters to him. He is my greatest confidante. I can talk to him about anything and he is always ready to listen. What I like the most about him is that he never gives me unsolicited advice. He never criticizes me. He just listens without condemning me or making me feel unworthy. He is my best friend in the whole world and I would like to introduce him to all of you. His name is Jesus.

My friend Jesus is about to celebrate another birthday. He was born 2016 years ago in a little town called Bethlehem. His birth was humble, peaceful, quiet and oh so very joyful. He was born on a beautiful night. Yet, most of the world didn't even know what was happening inside the little stable where he was being born. The night would have gone unnoticed, except that God had other plans. The simple shepherds that were out tending to their sheep, woke up startled and stared into the face of an angel.

Somewhere along the journey, we turned his birthday celebration into total chaos. Jesus would like for his birthday celebration to be just like his birth was, peaceful and ordinary. But we humans love to complicate our lives and we have turned his birth into holiday madness. His birthday has become extravagant, noisy, chaotic and stressful. Somewhere along the way, we forgot the true meaning of his birth. The reason why he came.

Through the years, he has received many gifts: great architectural monuments have been built all over the world to worship him; artists have created amazing masterpieces to honor him; musicians have written the most glorious music to praise him. And yet, he is just as happy with a simple, humble gift, as long as it comes from the heart. And what makes him the happiest, is the gift of our time. He loves to spend time with his friends.

Last week, I was able to give him that gift because I spent a weekend at an Emmaus retreat. I think every year, I  should force myself to attend an Advent retreat so I can focus on him, instead of all the other unimportant things that I crowd my life with. Even though I spent a lot of time sitting down with him, I wrote very little, which is very strange for me. Of course, it didn't help that I forgot my journal at home, but that was not the main reason. After all, a pen and a piece of paper is all I need to write and I had plenty of those. But I just had this huge need to just sit with him and allow him to fill me completely. I slept just seven hours the entire weekend. Every bone and muscle that I didn't even know I had was hurting me. But spiritually, I was so full. It was truly an oasis in the midst of the holiday madness.

The greatest thing about my friend Jesus is that for his birthday, instead of expecting gifts from us, he wants to give us a gift. He is our gift. God gave him to us, 2016 years ago, and he is still present with us today. He is our everlasting present. He is the only gift that we are guaranteed. We may receive many gifts for his birthday, but none of them will last forever. The only gift that will be eternal is the gift of Jesus. He came to bring us life, and our life, with Jesus as our friend, can only be peaceful. He came to bring us joy, and our joy, with Jesus as our friend, is everlasting. He came to bring us love, and our love, with Jesus as our friend, can only be pure. But in order for these gifts to last, we must keep our eyes focused on him. And we must trust him. He is always with us and everything will work out.

Jesus wants us to share his gift. He doesn't want us to keep him only to ourselves. He wants us to introduce him to others. He wants to knock at everyone's hearts, hoping that everyone has room inside their inn for him. He wants to have a relationship with each one of us that is not exclusive because he has room in his heart for all of us. Of course, when we introduce Jesus to others, we cannot force others to accept him as their friend. Everyone has a choice. Jesus is ready to embrace everyone and give them the reward of his friendship, but unfortunately, not everyone is ready to embrace him.

Jesus already has many friends in the world and he loves each one dearly. Even those friends that have abandoned him, he still loves them and always waits for them to return. His heart always has room for more friendships. His love for his friends knows no boundaries.

Jesus is my best friend because he is intimately acquainted with all my ways. I cannot hide anything from him because even if I don't share it, he knows. I can place all my darkest secrets at his feet. He knows my hidden motives, my deepest shame and my stormy thoughts. And he still hugs me. No matter what I do, he still loves me. He sends me flowers every spring and a sunrise every morning. Whenever I need to talk, he listens. He can live anywhere in the world, and yet, he chose my heart.

And I want to introduce him to you because he is crazy about you too. He thinks you are the best thing that has ever happened to him. I am sure, that if you give him a picture of you, he will attach it with a magnet to his heavenly refrigerator. Make room in your heart for him and he will fill your life with hope, purpose, light and peace. Open your heart to him because he is choosing your heart as his manger. He wants to be born within you.

My Jesus is everything to me!!!  Allow him to be everything to you!!!

Finding Joy and Peace in the Waiting

"Christ, having been offered once to bear the sins of many, will appear a second time, not to deal with sin, but to save those who are eagerly waiting for him." Hebrews 9:28

I'm not very patient when it comes to waiting. I'm sitting down at my rheumatologist's office. He's a great doctor but here you know when you arrive but you never know when you will leave. (I have been here four hours already). The gentleman sitting next to me just complained outloud: "Como se demora este doctor (this doctor takes too long)." I can choose to join in the tirade and become more impatient. Instead, I decided this is a great opportunity to write about waiting.

Advent is also a time of waiting. As children, we waited for the arrival of Santa Claus or the three Kings, depending where you grew up. Now as adults, if we believe, we wait for the birth of Jesus. Of course, this waiting takes many forms. While we wait, we decorate the house, we hit the stores because gifting is part of the tradition, and we celebrate.

Decorating takes many forms. Some people go all out, while others just put a wreath on the door. Hopefully, every Christian will at the very least display a Nativity scene. My decorations have diminished through the years. I'm the decorator in my house and I find myself less energetic the older I get. This year I completely bypassed the outside. But I still decorated a Christmas tree, displayed half of the village, placed various decorations throughout the house and set-up the Nativity. A lot of my friends, empty-nesters like us, decided not to get a Christmas tree this year. I can't blame them, it's a lot of work. But I still love setting it up because every ornament holds a memory of years past.

Most people dislike the gifting and yet, they are catapulted into it like a rocket headed straight for the moon. Personally, I don't dislike the gifting. I actually enjoy everything about it, from choosing an original gift, to carefully wrapping it, placing it under the tree and the best part, giving it to the recipient and seeing their reaction. The only thing I dislike is that sometimes my time is stretched to the fullest and finding that perfect gift takes hours. The Internet has facilitated the process but I still like to go to the store, early in the morning before the crowds arrive, and search for the perfect treasure.

Another part of the waiting is the gatherings. It seems everyone plans some sort of shindig for this season. I attended one already this past weekend and I have invitations to four more for next week. FOUR. This is definitely the month to forget about dieting and concentrate on eating, drinking and sharing time with family and friends, old and new.

All these things are great but the most important time of the waiting should be held in silence. And we have such little time for that nowadays. It seems we are always rushing from one thing to the next, and that's why when we have to wait we become so impatient. But sometimes waiting is good. We need to take a moment to just be. And if we take a moment to just be with Jesus, His birth takes a whole different dimension. What's the point of decorating our homes, exchanging gifts and filling our tummies if we forget the reason for the season? The whole purpose of Christmas is to celebrate His birth. And every year, if we allow Him, He wants to be born again in each of our hearts.

This coming weekend, a group of women will be spending time together attending an Emmaus retreat. I must confess that when I saw the date, I asked myself: "Do I really want to add another thing to my busy December schedule?" But then I thought, "what better way to prepare for His birth." And since I was asked to be responsible for the Blessed Sacrament, I'm going to spend a lot of time in silence in His presence. And I am so looking forward to it. It will be like an oasis of peace in the midst of all the holiday madness. And it will help me to temper my impatience because there, I won't be in a hurry to go anywhere. I'll just sit at the feet of Jesus and allow Him to fill me completely while I prepare my heart to receive Him once again on Christmas Day. I'll get to feel, just for a little while, what Mama Mary felt as she waited for His birth. And I pray that I get to experience her JOY and her PEACE.

If anyone wants to spend one hour sitting at the feet of Jesus, you are welcome to stop by. Just let us know the time so we can wait for your arrival.

Please sign up by clicking the attached link: 

http://signup.com/go/z9Evzu

Worms No More

"A butterfly is the promise that we can't stay worms forever."

I heard the news from Alex, my youngest son. He knew this was a good enough reason to wake me up at 1 am. "Mom, wake up, Fidel Castro died." I asked him, "are you sure it's for real?" After all, his death has been announced multiple times in the last decade and every time it's been a false rumor... until now. The worst dictator of the twentieth century is finally dead.

I was born during his regime and left Cuba seven years later. This short time was enough to permanently imprint in my mind what communism can do to a country. We lived in fear. We lived in poverty. We lived without freedom. Even though we lacked the most basic foods, it was the lack of freedom that impacted me the most. And of course, I didn't realize this until I actually left to a free country and I grew up.

My grandmother used to tell me stories of the Cuba I never knew, the free Cuba that my parents and grandparents always cherished. And she would tell me that once I left, I would be able to enjoy that freedom. I would be able to eat cream cheese, my favorite snack, daily and not just once a year. I would be able to play with lots of toys and not just the few toys that they had to struggle to obtain once a year. I would be able to go to church and worship without fear. I would be able to prepare for my first Communion without hiding in a basement. I would be able to travel to other countries freely. I would be able to talk outloud about any subject freely. I would be able to use my imagination and write about anything my heart desired freely. I would be able to attend any school my parents chose for me, whether private, religious or public. In other words, I would have choices and I would be free to make my own decisions, something that in Cuba was no longer possible.

When my parents decided to leave Cuba in search of freedom, my father was fired from his job at the bank and sent to work in a labor camp cutting sugar cane and doing heavy labor. This was the punishment given to the "gusanos" (worms) that were not in agreement with the Communist government and who applied for a visa to leave. The punishment did not recriminate. It was handed out to both men and women, unless the woman had a child under five years old. That's what saved my mom from two years of harsh agricultural labor. But she still had her share of heartache by being repudiated for her decision both by neighbors and co-workers.

Even myself, at the young age of seven, was punished for my parents' decision to leave the country. I remember the day that my second grade teacher announced to the entire class, "I have a prize for just one student, who wants it?" Of course, the entire class raised their hand, "Me, me, me." I was the lucky one. She gave me an envelope and told me to give it to my mom. The so-called "prize" was a letter that said that the following day I had to report to a new school in a different neighborhood. Oh, what a wonderful prize I won. Just a few weeks after starting second grade, I was taken away from the only school I had ever attended, and from my classmates, the friends I knew since kindergarten. When I gave the envelope to my mom, I was very excited: "Mami, they gave out a prize in school and I was the only one that got it." The excitement only lasted until my mom read the note and I saw tears in her eyes. When my mom went to my school the following day and begged them to leave me there, that we would be leaving the country soon, they laughed at her. They were punishing me because according to them we were all just a bunch of worms.

I recall the day we left with complete clarity. When we arrived at the airport, we had to enter a fishbowl. That's where they would place all the "worms" that were leaving. My grandmother would place her hand on one side of the glass and I would place mine on the other side. I didn't understand why she couldn't be inside with us. We carried nothing with us except the clothing we wore and a doll I was allowed to take with me. I remember my coat was dark green. My grandmother made it for me and I cherished it long after I had outgrown it because it was the only reminder I had of her until she and my grandfather joined us two years later.

When we walked to the plane, my mom told me, "do not look back, do not turn around or they will take away your doll." What she really meant to say was, "they won't allow us to leave if any of us look back." I could hear all four of my grandparents calling our names, but I cherished that doll, "Marina," with all my heart, and I believed my mom. I had already seen the "bad people" remove its head to make sure my parents were not hiding anything inside it. Little did I know that day would be the last day that I would see my paternal grandfather, and that it would take twenty years for me to see my paternal grandmother again when she came to visit me in Miami for a short visit.

We arrived in Madrid, Spain, on a very cold November day. I had never experienced that brutal cold weather in my life, but the wool coat that my grandmother made for me kept me warm. We didn't have any family in Madrid. A friend of my grandmother's waited for us at the airport. She took us to a "pension," a sort of cheap hotel where we had a room but where we had to share a bathroom and a kitchen with everyone else. My memories of this place are limited because I lived there for less than two months. My parents knew this was no place for me so 45 days after our arrival, they sent me to live at my grandmother's sister's house in La Coruña, a town in the northwest corner of Spain. But I do remember two things: the small balcony that became our refrigerator because it was so cold outside that the milk and the yogurt would get icy during the night, and my parents scrubbing the common kitchen because whomever used it last had to clean it and they were usually the last ones because they found work right away, so they would get back pretty late and therefore finish cooking way after everyone else. I also remember staying there by myself because even though they found work right away, they didn't find a school that they considered suitable for me. The public school nearby was attended by a very bad "elemento," (bad apples). They couldn't afford private school at this time and they felt it was safer for me to stay alone in "la pension" than for me to attend the public school. And thus the reason why they made the decision to separate from me for a short period of time by sending me to live with my great-aunt.

All these memories have rushed to my mind this weekend, like a river running wild through my brain. All the stories I grew up with, told over and over again by my grandparents and by my parents who wanted to make sure that I did not forget my heritage. Even though I lived just seven years in Cuba, that heritage is as much a part of me as "frijoles negros" (black beans) and "pastelitos de guayaba" (guava pastries) is a part of Cuba. And I have passed on that heritage to my children that were born in the United States of America, the land that welcomed us, because for us, Spain was just a stepping stone until we reached our final destination.

Therefore, even though I feel it's wrong to celebrate the death of a human being, I have no regrets that when Alex woke me up to break the news, I felt joy instead of sadness. I wanted to share this joy with my dad and my grandparents, but they were no longer just a phone call away. But I knew they would be celebrating in heaven, the way we would celebrate the following day here on earth. I got to celebrate with my mom, with my husband, and with my children, in a way that the Cubans that are still living inside the island cannot celebrate. We were once considered worms but we glowed from within. They were never able to extinguish that light. And today, we celebrate like the butterflies that we became because we live in a free country. We are worms no more.

Las Amigas son la Familia que Escogemos

"Un amigo verdadero es el más grande de todos los bienes." Francois de La Rochefoucauld

Cuando mi hija tuvo su primer novio, recuerdo que le dije que no olvidara a sus amigas. A pesar de que los hombres en nuestra vida son importantes pues ellos nos complementan de una forma muy especial, a las amigas nos une un lazo emocional que los hombres simplemente no pueden comprender pues hemos sido creados muy diferentes. A medida que maduramos, necesitamos esa hermandad, ese vínculo entre mujeres que los hombres nunca entenderán.  Los hombres también necesitan amigos, pero para nosotras las mujeres, las amigas son tan necesarias como el agua.

Tal vez porque me crié sin hermanos, le he dado mucho más valor a mis amistades. Y ya que viví en tres países diferentes durante mis primeros doce años de vida, me fue difícil mantener las amistades. Cada vez que me acercaba a alguien lo suficiente para considerarla mi mejor amiga, llegaba el momento de mudarme. Sin embargo, tengo dos amigas que han sido parte de mi vida desde el día que nací y a pesar de que vivimos con un océano de por medio, son mis mejores amigas hasta el día de hoy. Más que amigas, las quiero como hermanas.

Nuestras madres se conocieron antes de que nosotras hubiésemos nacido y fueron inseparables prácticamente desde el primer día. Menos de dos años nos separan a las tres. Tere es dieciséis meses mayor que yo y Dulce dos meses más joven. Mis álbumes de fotos de mis años en Cuba están llenos de fotografías de nosotras tres, lo cual indica que nuestras familias eran inseparables. Esta unión se solidificó en España cuando nos mudamos al mismo barrio de Madrid. Asistiamos a la misma escuela, viajabamos juntas y prácticamente pasabamos cada minuto de cada día en alguna de nuestras casas, en la piscina, patinando en el parque o simplemente divirtiéndonos por el barrio.

Cuando cumplí los doce años, mis padres y mis abuelos decidieron mudarse a Miami. La noticia me causó gran alegría pues había crecido escuchando historias fascinantes sobre los Estados Unidos. Pero esta alegría se tornó amarga cuando supe que Tere y Dulce no se mudarían. Durante los tres primeros años, nos intercambiamos cartas mensualmente. Cuando cumplí quince años, mis padres me preguntaron si quería una fiesta. Las celebraciones de "quinceañera" estaban de moda pero yo no estaba interesada. El único regalo que realmente quería era volver a España y por suerte para mí, me lo concedieron. Pasé la mitad de ese verano en España y es uno de los mejores recuerdos de mi vida. Los años de separación se desvanecieron y una vez más éramos las tres amigas inseparables que se habían criado juntas. Podiamos terminar las oraciones de una u otra y teníamos idiosincrasias y frases que nadie excepto nosotras podían comprender.

Durante la secundaria y la preparatoria en Miami, coseché amistades, pero nadie pudo reemplazar a Tere y Dulce. Cada vez que nos reunimos, en mi lado del océano o en el de ellas, es como si nunca hubiésemos estado separadas. No hay timidez entre nosotras. Podemos hablar de cualquier tema, bromear y compartir los detalles más íntimos sin ruborizarnos. Supongo que esto es lo más parecido a tener hermanas. Dios no me concedió hermanas, pero me bendijo el día que nuestras madres se conocieron.

A pesar de que mis dos mejores amigas, mis hermanas de una madre diferente, viven un océano aparte, he cosechado muchas amistades a lo largo de mi vida. Algunas todavía se mantienen en contacto, mientras que otras han tomado otro rumbo, pero mientras fueron parte de mi vida, tuvieron un propósito y contribuyeron algo que yo necesitaba en ese momento. Cuando me reúno con mis amigas, mi esposo me dice que todo lo que hacemos cuando nos juntamos es chismear, pero es mucho más que eso. Compartimos desde lo más profundo de adentro. No tenemos ningún reparo en cubrir cualquier tema, bien sea sobre relaciones intimas o consejos de belleza, esposos o hijos, política o religión. Nada es tabú. Y cuando estamos atravesando un momento difícil, podemos abrir nuestros corazones con nuestras amigas y compartir las emociones y los temores más profundos. Ellas nos comprenden porque la mayor parte del tiempo, ya han caminado en nuestros zapatos. En los buenos tiempos, pero sobre todo en los malos tiempos, nuestras amigas, junto con nuestra familia, nos ayudan a llevar la carga y nos dan una palmadita en la espalda que nos mantiene caminando hacia adelante. Nuestra fe nos mantiene en pie, pero nuestras amigas nos dan el empuje que necesitamos para seguir andando. Son los ángeles que Dios nos manda cuando la vida se nos cierra a nuestro alrededor.

Que Dios bendiga a todas mis amigas. Las amigas de Facebook que marcan "me gusta" cuando pongo fotos y rezan cuando pido oraciones. Las amigas que conocí en la escuela, en el trabajo o en la iglesia. Cada una de ellas a traido un ingrediente especial a mi vida. Las amigas que he conocido a través de mis hijos, compartiendo tanto tiempo juntas en todas las actividades escolares, fiestas de cumpleaños y excursiones. A pesar de que nuestros hijos crecieron, nuestra amistad sigue en pie. Mi comunidad de la Biblia y mis hermanas de Emaús. Ellas son mis hermanas en Cristo y sé que están a solo una llamada o un texto de distancia. Nos hemos reído juntas y hemos llorado juntas. La fe nos unió y Dios ató el nudo de la amistad. Compartimos la palabra de Dios y mucho más. Somos ángeles de la oración entre nosotras, nos reunimos para rezar, o "chismear" tanto como nos sea posible y las necesito tanto como necesito mi vaso de agua todas las mañanas. Y por último pero no menos importante, Dios bendiga a mis hermanas del alma a las que no puedo esperar para abrazar otra vez. Doy gracias a Dios por cada una de ustedes, tanto las que ya siguieron otro rumbo como las que aún son parte de mi vida. Ustedes son mejor que un café o un chocolate.  Son mi gente. Son la familia que yo escogí para mí.

Así como le dije a mi hija un día, no olvides a tus amigas aún cuando la vida se vuelva muy complicada. Mientras más pasan los años, más entiendo la necesidad de tener otras mujeres en mi vida. Y espero que yo sea tan importante para ellas como ellas lo son para mí.

Salud a mis amigas!!!

Friends are the Family We Choose

"A True Friend is the Greatest of All Blessings." Francois de La Rochefoucauld

When my daughter had her first boyfriend, I remember telling her not to forget her girlfriends. Even though the men in our life are important because they complete us in a very special way, our girlfriends have an emotional tie to us that men simply cannot understand because we are built so different. Especially as we grow older, we need that sisterhood, that women bond that men just cannot understand. Even though men need friends too, for us women, girlfriends are as necessary as water.

Since I grew up without siblings, I treasured my friendships more than most. And since I lived in three different countries during my first twelve years of life, it was also hard to keep them. Every time I got really close to someone to call her my best friend, it was time to move. However, I have two friends that I have known since birth and even though we live an ocean apart, to this day, they are still my best friends. More than friends, I consider them my sisters.

Our mothers met before we were born and became close almost from the get go. Less than two years separate the three of us. Tere is sixteen months older than I am and Dulce is two months younger. My photo albums from Cuba are filled with pictures of the three of us. It looks as though our families were inseparable. This bond was solidified in Spain when we moved to the same neighborhood in Madrid. We attended the same school, went on trips together and practically spent every minute of every day in each other's houses, at the pool, skating at the park or just goofing around the neighborhood.

When I turned twelve and my parents and grandparents decided to move to Miami, I was really excited because I had grown up listening to fairy tales about the United States. But this excitement turned sour when I found out that Tere and Dulce would be staying behind. We wrote to each other monthly for the first three years we were apart. When I turned fifteen, my parents asked me if I wanted a party. The "quinceañera" celebrations were in fashion but I was not interested. The only gift I truly wanted was to return to Spain and lucky for me, it was granted. I spent half of that summer in Spain and it is one of the best memories of my life. It was as if the years apart melted and we were once again the three inseparable girls that had grown up together. We could finish each other's sentences and we had phrases and idiosyncrasies that no one else understood.

I made friends in Miami during middle school and high school, but no one quite took the place of Tere and Dulce. Every time we get together, either on my side of the ocean or on their side, it's as if we have never been apart. There is no shyness between us. We can talk about anything, joke with each other and share the most intimate details without blushing. I guess this is as close as sisters can be. God didn't give me sisters, but He truly blessed me on the day our mothers met.

Even though my two best friends, my sisters from a different mother live an ocean apart, I have made many friends along my journey. Some are still in my life and others have moved on, but while they were a part of my life they had a purpose and they brought something I needed at that stage of my journey. When I go to lunch with my peeps, my husband tells me that all we do when we get together is gossip, but it's so much more than that. We share from deep within. We have no qualms about covering any subject from sex to beauty tips, from husbands to kids, from politics to religion. Nothing is taboo. And when we are going through a difficult time, we can open up our hearts with our girlfriends and share are deepest fears and emotions. They understand because most of the time, they have walked in our shoes. In good times, but especially in bad times, our girlfriends, together with our family, pick up the load and give us the pat on the back that will keep us walking forward. Our faith keeps us standing, but our girlfriends give us the push we need to keep going. They are the angels that God sends us when life closes in around us.

May God bless all my friends out there. Facebook friends that hit "like" whenever I post and pray whenever I ask. The friends I made at school, at work or at church. They each bring a special ingredient to my life. The friends I've made through my kids by spending so much time together at all the school activities, birthday parties and field trips. Even though our kids grew up, our friendship still remains strong. My Emmaus sisters and my Bible community. They are my sisters in Christ and I know that they are just a phone call or a text away. We have laughed together and we have cried together. Faith brought us together and God tied the friendship knot. We share the Word of God and so much more. We are prayer angels to each other, we meet to pray or "gossip" as much as possible and I need them just as much as I need my glass of water every morning. And last but not least, God bless my soul sisters whom I can't wait to hug again. I thank God for every one of you, whether you moved on or you are still in my life. You are better than coffee or chocolate.  You are my village. You are the family I chose for myself.

So just as I told my daughter one day, don't forget your girlfriends when life gets too busy. The older I get, the more I understand the need for other women in my life. And I hope that I'm as important to them as they are to me.

Cheers to my girlfriends!!!

Blessed and Obsessed

"If you think you can't love anyone more than you love your children, wait until you look into the eyes of your grandchildren and really fall in love." Author Unknown

My generation is entering the grandparenting stage. This year, I attended three weddings of my children's friends. My son also got engaged. This made me realize that becoming a grandparent is right around the corner. And honestly, I am so looking forward to that next stage of my life. That will be the day that I hang up the "closed" sign on my Accounting practice and retire for good. I want to be able to be part of my grandchildren's lives. And since most likely, some of them will not live in my hometown, I want to be able to take off at a moment's notice to be present at every milestone. In the meantime, I get to dream through the eyes of my friends that have already reached that stage. I enjoy the pictures of their grandchildren through Facebook. My friend Alina uses the hashtag "blessedandobsessed" every time she posts pictures of her grandkids. And yes, I can see how they can be a blessing and an obsession.

I met my friend Maria in my Bible study. Shortly thereafter, she became a grandmother to Grace. She opted to stop working at her husband's business so she could stay home and take care of Grace. But taking care of Grace didn't stop her from attending Bible classes. She brought Grace with her every Thursday. I was in love with Grace. I saw her grow from a newborn baby into the sweetest little girl. And I actually missed her when she started pre-school and stopped coming to Bible class. But after Grace, JJ was born and soon after, Emma. So Maria had babies with her until this year when Emma started to go to school. Maria says that she doesn't regret for a second the time she spent taking care of them. She says: "They have absolutely changed my life! The love I feel for them is amazing! Never thought I could love anyone more than my daughters but the love I have for them is so much more that I don't even understand it! They melt my heart! I love spending time with them and I actually feel I have more patience than I did with my own daughters! The best part is that I don't have to be disciplining them and I can spoil them a little and then it's time for them to go home!!! ❤️"

When I started dating my husband, I was thrilled by the size of his family. I had never met anyone with so many cousins. The first wedding we attended as a couple was of his cousin Lourdes. Since then, I have adopted her as my own because in the 32 years that I've been married to my hubby, I've shared a lot of events, both good and bad, with Lourdes and Cuqui, her sister. I was thrilled when I found out that Lourdes was going to become a grandmother four years ago. This week, I asked her how her life had changed since Benjamin was born. This is what she told me: 

"Never in my wildest dream could I have ever imagined that I was going to enjoy having grandchildren so much. He is pure enjoyment. From the day he was born he has brought so much happiness into my life. Whenever I am with Ben, I forget all my problems, I forget all the sad things happening in the world. It is like my mind is consumed with just enjoying him. It is like everything he does makes me happy. Sometimes I even wonder, “do I love him more than my own children?” Of course, I know the answer is no, because it is a very different love. I don’t think I can love anyone more than Monica and Yoyi, but when you are raising your children you have to worry about so many things. You have to make sure they are safe, that they eat well, doctor appointments, school, homework, etc. So you are kind of caught up in all that and the time goes by so fast. Sometimes I wish I could turn the clock back, stop it, and play with them again, just for a little while. With Ben it is very different. Those are Monica and Ryan’s worries. Jorge and I are simply there to enjoy him. Don’t get me wrong. I, too, worry about Ben’s safety and health, etc. I pray that God will always protect him and protect his parents because he needs them the most."

I also asked her if she felt that her relationship with Ben was different than it had been with her children. She answered: "Yes, it is every different. My children are my world, the biggest gift God has given me, but as much as I enjoyed my children in my life, I definitely think I am enjoying Ben more. Again, he is pure enjoyment! He has definitely changed my life for the best!"

I first met Lupe through work. I shared office space with her accountant so I had seen her in various occasions when she came to the office to drop off documents. But we became friends later through the Belen Emmaus retreats. She has three sons that all graduated from Belen and now she is the proud grandma of three beautiful girls. I asked her to share with us what it means to be a grandmother:

    

"As you know, God blessed me with three sons and now three granddaughters. I clearly remember when my oldest son Carlos and his wife Jennifer called to tell me that they were expecting a baby. It was my birthday and it was my gift. A real, true miracle from the Lord. You see, we did not know if Carlos could father children because at age 21, he was diagnosed with cancer and was treated with intense chemotherapy drugs for six months. I was grateful, thrilled and totally in love with this baby to come! Katherine was born and when I held that precious baby girl, my heart was filled with indescribable joy. My baby's miracle baby! A year and a half later, her little sister, Emma, came into the world. And just last year, my middle son, Danny and his wife, Heather, welcomed their precious baby girl, Samantha, my little strawberry blond, sweet girl.

Katherine is now about to turn 12, Emma is 10, and Samantha is 1. Grandparenthood for Carlos and me has not been what we envisioned. We expected to be involved in the day to day lives of our grandchildren, just as our parents had been in the lives of our sons. Unfortunately, our three granddaughters don't live in Miami. Our Cuban culture did not prepare us for the scattering of family. Embracing the "American way" has not been easy, but we thoroughly enjoy every moment we spend with our girls. At a moment's notice, we are ready to hop in a car or on a plane to attend a recital, an important game, a birthday party, or just because. My very favorite time is when the parents go on vacation and I am alone with them -- carpooling to school, taking them to dance class, helping with homework, etc. This is just how I had dreamed grandparenthood would be.

After three boys, granddaughters are a challenge, but so much fun! My heart bursts with love for them! The controlling, rigid mother who expected perfection from her children has become an accepting and patient grandmother who is able to dance and sing and laugh and cry with them. I am relaxed and I spoil them every chance I get. They have taught me to love with freedom and joy. And they love their Nana and Papa! Every moment with them is a reminder of God's incredible love for us and I thank Him every day for the precious gift of my granddaughters."

I also met my friend Alina through the Belen Emmaus. I remember as we were preparing to serve at an Emmaus retreat, praying for her daughter-in-law and her daughter who were both expecting. I asked her to share with us her experience:

"Within seven months, we experienced the births of our first granddaughter and our first grandson. When we learned that our daughter-in-law was pregnant, we were beyond overjoyed. All was magical and good, and exactly as we had envisioned life happening for our firstborn. Seven months later, when we learned that our only daughter was to become a single mom, at first we were confused and somewhat dazed… that was not the fairytale we had written about her life. Then, as always happens when we open our hearts to God’s plan, confusion gave way to gratitude, which always gives way to joy. When we welcomed Olivia Elise into our world at the hospital, Jorge and I marveled at how blessed we would be once again in just a few short months. God opened the eyes of our hearts to the blessings on our altar. The story was not as we had written it, but as He had when He made sure our daughter chose life. Though she was not supposed to be pregnant at that time, her son was certainly supposed to be born into our family, and we prepared to fill our home with all things “baby”. We were richly blessed.

  

Holding our children’s babies in our arms was nothing short of magical. Seeing our grandbabies through the eyes of our babies changed everything. Who knew that their hearts could hold this much love for a tiny, newly arrived stranger…? Who knew that in a few short hours none of us would remember our life without them…? As we watched our firstborn’s baby girl grow and thrive, celebrating each tiny milestone, we watched our daughter’s baby boy fight for his life, hoping against all hope that we would be allowed to keep him. In three short months, he taught us the value of life. He taught us to celebrate the gift that is each day. He taught us how strong we could be. He taught us to lean on each other as we all leaned on our God… even when we could not understand the “why”.

Five years after welcoming Olivia and Nico into our lives, we are grandparents to three little girls (Lucia and Bella arrived two years ago, just 3-1/2 months apart), and life is filled with wild flowers, baby dolls, princesses and dance classes. We are also grandparents to an angel who we remember each day as we treasure our time together, celebrate our imperfectly perfect life, and cherish the love that fills our every moment."

The Hernandez family turned the most painful experience of their lives into a mission of love. They created a foundation, Nico's Promise, in memory of their beautiful angel. And through their foundation, they started a bereavement program at Nicklaus Children's Hospital to help families that are dealing with the pain of losing a child. They will always carry Nico in their hearts, but God has blessed them with three beautiful princesses. And yes, they have every reason to be blessed and obsessed with them. I think that is a grandparent's right, to brag and be obsessed with their grandchildren, while thanking God every day for those precious blessings.

I would like to thank my friends Maria Betancourt, Alina Hernandez and Lupe Zumarraga, and my cousin Lourdes Ochoa for sharing their grandparenting experiences with me. Seeing the joy and love through their eyes has made me realize how much I also want to be blessed and obsessed. But I know that everything will happen in God's time. And I patiently await that day. 

We are not Losing a Child...

"A man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh." Matthew 19:5

Accepting our adult children's choices is probably one of the hardest things for parents. As I mentioned on my last post, we have this tendency to plan their lives including their future. If it was up to us, we would go as far as choosing the perfect mate for our children. But we don't have a choice in the matter. By this time, we have done our part. The future is in their hands. We can give our opinion, even though I don't recommend it unless they ask for advise, but in the end, it's their choice, not ours. We already got married, we already made our choices, some may have been better than others but we learned from the good as well as the bad. Now, it's up to them, not us, who they choose to make a life with.

I was brought up hearing the following saying: "You can date anyone as long as he meets the three C's: Cubano, Conocido y Catolico (Cuban, Known by Us and Catholic). I guess back in Cuba these three criteria were easy to be met because everyone was Cuban, most people were Catholic and everyone knew everyone else. To a certain degree, this is also true of our Cuban community in Miami but unless we keep our children within the confines of our little community, this ain't going to happen. And even if they stay in Miami, chances are they will meet people from other cultures, religions and backgrounds because we are not so contained. Besides, we become very prejudiced when we think this way because there are a lot of people out there that are much better than we are and they don't meet any of the three C's.

Acceptance is an essential ingredient if we want to maintain a happy relationship with our adult children. Yes, we may wish for someone with a degree, or someone with a high-paying job, or someone with our same background or religion, but deep inside, are those things truly that important? The most important thing is the heart within. If the person our children choose as their lifetime mate has a good heart, is a decent person, puts family and good values over everything else, what does it matter if they are rich or poor, an attorney or a gardener, Christian or Jewish, American or German?

I must admit that I have pondered a lot on this subject. I have prayed to God to open up my mind and sometimes the old me still fights to come up to the surface, but I have come to terms with the fact that I must respect my children's choices no matter whom they choose to be their mate. My prayer is that God makes the choice for them and that He chooses someone that is perfect for them so that together, they can walk hand in hand into the future, loving and respecting each other. That is so much more important than the size of their paycheck, the religion they practice or their cultural background.

I have not reached the stage of having daughters or son-in-laws yet, but I'm fast approaching it since my oldest is engaged and getting married in two years. One of the biggest satisfactions for a parent is to see their children happy and my Rafi is so happy. And I believe the same is true for Emily. They complement each other so well that I know she is the answer to my prayers. Theirs is a match made in heaven. They are walking together in the same direction, loving each other, taking care of each other, respecting each other and making each other happy in the process. And I know that I'm not losing a son, on the contrary, I'm gaining a new daughter and I couldn't be happier for them.

Our Adult Children: Learning to Let Go

"For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be." —PSALM 139:13–16

The relationship between parents and children takes a dramatic shift when they become adults. And sometimes, it's difficult for parents to accept. We are used to telling them what to do. We are used to having them depend on us. And all of a sudden, they don't need us so much anymore. And not just that, they begin to do things differently from everything we've ever taught them. They become their own person and we ask ourselves: "how did this happen?"

In the last thirty years a lot has changed. We usually wouldn't leave our parental home until we got married. Many of us didn't go away to college because our parents had just arrived to the United States and the idea of us going away to a different state when we had a perfectly good college and university right here in town was out of the question. But for our children, it was totally different. They had opportunities that we never had. And we allowed them to fly and spread their wings. The sky was the limit so many of them went away to college. While away from us, they got used to living on their own. It was hard for them to graduate and return to the parental home. So as soon as they found a job, even if it was in town, they moved out. And this is a good thing. We taught them to fly so it would be selfish from us to try to keep them inside the nest.

One thing that I feel that as parents we have failed collectively is that perhaps, we have given them too much: too much help at school, too much planning out their lives for them, too many toys, too much clothing, too much of everything. I feel that this has given them a false sense of entitlement. Sometimes they think that the world owes them something and unfortunately, the world doesn't owe them anything. We didn't realize that in giving them so much and making life easier for them, we were not preparing them to fail. And as we all know, the real world is not always easy. This is a common topic of conversation among my friends. Most claim that their adult children get frustrated and give up easily when things don't go their way. I hope they learn from our mistakes and they will allow their children, our grandchildren, to struggle a bit more so they can learn how to weather the storms in their path without giving up at the first sight of lightning.

Also, because our lives were so ingrained with their lives, we felt that we could plan their future just as we planned every day for them. And it's been a rude awakening for our generation to accept that some of the choices our adult children are making, goes against our dreams and plans for them. And sometimes, it even goes against everything that we have been taught. Our values are so ingrained in us that one of the hardest things for us to accept has been seeing this generation living with their significant others before marriage. But they are so much more open than we ever were. They are not confined by prejudice or judgment. And so, most of us have had to accept it and embrace it, because otherwise we would jeopardize our relationship with them. Deep inside, I still long that my children will opt for a sacramental marriage, but I'm seeing more and more that this is not always a priority for them. And it saddens me because I know how difficult holding a marriage together can be, even with God at its center. But at the end of the day, they are adults and they are going to make their own choices. And I've learned that if they don't ask for my opinion, I don't freely give it.

They are also choosing to practice their religion very differently from us. My three kids attended Catholic school and Sunday mass their whole life, but currently, none of them go to mass. I feel that they got to know God academically, in their heads, but they don't know Him spiritually, deep within their hearts. My daughter told me not too long ago, "it has taken me years to shake off all the guilt planted within me by my Catholic school education." It made me stop and think. Our God is not a God of guilt, it's a God of love. Somewhere along the way, we may have lost track of the right way to inspire them. And definitely, making them feel guilty if they didn't go to mass was not the right way to bring them closer to God, on the contrary, it pushed them away, at least from attending mass. I know they believe in God and they pray, but I also know how difficult it is to maintain this relationship with God without a community of faith to give them the support they will need when the going gets tough. So every day I pray that somehow, someway, they find a community that fills them and where they can grow in their faith, because I know that otherwise, sooner or later, the weeds of the world will suffocate them, and it will be very difficult for the good seeds that were planted as they were growing up to find its way out into the sunshine. I also hope and pray that they find their way back to His Home, not out of guilt, but because they feel loved by Him and by His community.

One thing that I truly admire about the millennials, as this new generation has been labeled, is their openness toward other races and religions. We grew up with more prejudices. Even if we don't consider ourselves racist, we tend to label people when we talk about them: "My Russian neighbors, the Chinese guy, the Jewish Doctor, the black family..." This new generation doesn't place any labels, they see each other as equals. My son Alex met John during orientation. They were both pre-pharmacy, within a year they both changed to business school, and on their junior year, they decided to lease a house with four other friends. I had never met John until I went to visit Alex a year ago, and to my surprise, John was not the blond American boy that I had conjured in my mind. John is as dark as can be, but to Alex, color makes absolutely no difference so he never mentioned it. It actually made me feel very happy that he had only referred to John as "my friend." I always taught my kids to value people from the inside out, to look at the heart not the skin, and I am in awe of them because they are teaching me so much more than I have ever taught them. Shame on me for thinking that John was blond and white before I even met him. I'm happy for my kids that they don't have the boundaries that still to this day, keep us apart from some amazing people just because they are different on the outside or because they practice a different religion. I hope the millennials can make a difference in our world and break all the barriers that keep us apart.

As our relationship with our children takes a dramatic turn when they become adults and we learn to let go, we have to remember that God knows them even better than we do. They are His wonderful creation and He has known them from the moment they were conceived. God has a plan for them which is probably totally different than our plan. We have to step aside so His plan can take shape in their lives. We did all we could, now we have to let them fly on their own and allow them to learn from their own mistakes. In the meantime, we can stand on the sidelines, always available when they need an ear to listen, a solicited advise, a hug or a shoulder to cry on. And always, always praying, while trusting God and allowing Him to do His work.

Teenagers and Beyond: Never a Dull Moment

"When his parents saw him they were astonished; and his mother said to him, 'Child, why have you treated us like this? Look, your father and I have been searching for you in great anxiety.'" Luke 2:48

If I had to choose just one word to describe the decade that encompasses the teenage and the college years, I would pick "anxiety." It was by far the most anxious decade of my life, and since my youngest is still in college, I'm still living it. I call it the never ending decade. I've been living it now for 15 years. No wonder I have so many white hairs.

Even Jesus gave his parents great anxiety when He was 12-years-old and decided to stay behind in Jerusalem without telling them. If He misbehaved this much when He was 12, I can only imagine what His teenage years must have been like. No wonder they left that part of His life out of the Bible.

In general, the teenage years for us were not too bad. Our kids were good, most of the time. But we still had to deal with rebelliousness, wanting to stay out past curfew, testing our limits, an occasional school detention, dating, and we had our share of bullying. This last one was one that I recall bringing quite a bit of anxiety into our home and into the home of many families we know. Children can be very cruel. And it doesn't start in the teenage years. It starts much earlier. The problem is that when they are small, we don't think it's all that important and that it will pass. But when a child gets excluded from a birthday party where the majority of the class was invited, it hurts them and it begins to leave a mark. What makes a kid more vulnerable to bullying than others? Well, I'm not a psychologist but I think that sometimes is based on looks, for example a child that is overweight or wears glasses or has acne may be more prone to bullying. And sometimes is based on personality. A shy and introverted child may have more trouble fitting in than an outgoing, chatty one. This may begin in the early years but it will definitely peak in the teenage years. And many times we parents feel totally helpless as to how we can help because sometimes getting involved may make the situation even worst. But when it peaks and it begins to affect our child's grades, or their sleep, or their self-esteem, we don't have a choice and this causes a lot of anxiety for all parties involved.

The three areas that terrified us the most as we entered this period in the lives of our children were alcohol, drugs, and driving. My oldest was 12-years-old when our community was shaken to its very core because a beautiful 16-year-old girl was killed while she was skating in Pinecrest. The driver that killed her was another beautiful 18-year-old girl who had been drinking tequila and smoking pot. Many of us were guilty of quickly pointing fingers: "Where were those parents? What were they thinking?" And I'm talking about accusations and rumors being spread out about both sets of parents, one set for allowing their daughter to skate alone down such a busy street and the other for not having better control of their daughter. I found myself in many of those conversations. At the time, we all thought that we were the parents of "perfect" children and that something so horrible could never happen to us. Oh what a tangled web we weave. And how could we have been so condescending.

Fast forward 15 years. Most of us parents that thought that just because we were involved in our children's lives, that because we sent them to private school and took them to church every Sunday, it would be enough to guarantee that our kids would stay in the right path and never get into trouble, received a well deserved slap on the face. We were proud parents but in the process we forgot that our children were human and that peer pressure was a very strong force for which nothing could prepare them. If you were blessed with a child that never got in any kind of trouble, that never experimented with alcohol or drugs, that survived the teenage and college years without a single mishap, drop down on your knees and say a prayer of thankfulness, because you my dear friend are in the minority. Even Mama Mary experienced anxiety during this turbulent decade, I can guarantee it because Jesus, even though He was divine and sinless, was also human.

As anxious as this decade can be, they must go through it because it's the tunnel that leads them to adulthood. And all we can pray for is that they mature and learn from their mistakes. In the meantime, we moms and dads, learn to pray, to let go and trust in the Lord. The rosary became my constant companion, especially during my hours of worry when I would sit alone in the dark waiting for them to come home. It brought me mercy in the midst of the anxiety, and a ray of light to my moments of darkness.

Thank God that during these anxious years, I became very involved in Emmaus. It was through the love and support of this wonderful community, that I survived. It made me realize that I was not alone. Everyone was going through some kind of fire. It's just that in social media we get a false sense of perfection. For the most part, everyone just shares the good things. Yes, we may share and ask for prayers if our child is in the hospital for an appendicis, but most people are not going to share and ask for prayers if our child came home drunk last night. But when you are in a retreat, with other women that are opening up and sharing the deepest anguish of their hearts, you start to open up too like a sunflower that has been in the darkness for far too long. And it's so much easier when we allow others to help us carry our heavy baggage.

We now have a mother's prayers group, mostly made up of moms of young adult children. We try to meet once a month and we follow the prayers of St. Monica, who prayed for years and years for her son Augustine who was on the road to perdition. St. Monica persevered and God took pity on her and touched Augustine's heart. And his conversion is one of the greatest miracles of our church.

Also, because we all lead busy lives and sometimes getting to this prayer meeting becomes impossible, this week I was inspired to create a mother's prayer group on Facebook. I'm calling it "Mother's Hour of Mercy." So if you find yourself awake in the middle of the night experiencing your hour of worry, come visit us as together we pray for mercy so our worries can subside. And through the intercession of St. Monica, patron saint of mothers, may we find peace in the night. It's a closed group so if you want to join, let me know and I will add you.

As I look back on these years where there was never a dull moment, I also recall that there were moments of great joy. The day we saw our children attend their first formal dance. The day they received an award for a job well done. The day they marched down the stage and received their high school diploma. The day they felt in love. The day they graduated from college. The day they got a job offer. The day that they said "thank you mom and dad for all you sacrificed, for all the sleepless nights, for all the anxiety we caused you." I have a young adult son that just got engaged, a daughter that is very responsible and fully independent, and a college boy that I'm still trying to get through the tunnel unscathed but who is maturing into a fine young man in front of my eyes. And in the meantime, I continue praying the rosary and asking St. Monica for her intercession:

"Dear St. Monica, troubled wife and mother, I need your prayers. You know exactly how I'm feeling because you once felt it yourself. Many sorrows pierced your heart during your lifetime. Yet, you never despaired or lost faith. With confidence, persistence, and profound faith, you perseveringly pursued your wayward son, not with threats but with prayerful cries to heaven, you prayed daily for his conversion, and your prayers were answered. Grant me that same fortitude, patience, and trust in the Lord.

Please intercede for all mothers in our day so that we may learn to draw our children to God. Show us how to remain close to our children, even if they go astray. Please join us in begging the Lord's powerful grace to flow into our children's life. Ask the Lord Jesus to soften their hearts, prepare a path that will lead them always towards God, and activate the Holy Spirit in their life.

Pray for our children and pray for us, dear St Monica. Amen."

Children: God's Greatest Gift

I took a small detour on my blog about relationships to go to Italy, and I kept my usual travel journal to record our adventures in that beautiful and blessed land. But now, it's time to return to where I left off. My meditations this year were all about relationships and I have a few more that I would like to cover.

The next relationship I want to talk about is that between parents and children. I've given this a lot of thought because I could write about children forever, but I don't want to make this into a never-ending meditation. So what I'm going to do, is divide this relationship into three parts: little children, teenagers/adolescents and adult children. I'm somewhere in the middle between the last two but I have a lot of friends that read my blog that are still at the beginning of the parenting journey, so that is where I would like to start, at the beginning.

When children arrive into an established family unit, everything changes. The whole world is turned upside down and inside out. It's incredible how such a little person can be so powerful. Not only do they require a lot of paraphernalia, but they also come with high demands. I remember when I was pregnant with my first one, my grandmother told me to sleep as much as I could. I asked her why and her answer was: "you will never sleep the same way again." How wise her words were. Once we bring a new baby into the world and into our homes, they have a schedule of their own and sleep will never be the same way again. Even after they start to sleep through the night, most moms will never sleep profoundly again a day in their life.

When a baby arrives, it's easy, especially for us moms, to center all our attention on our bundle of joy. The problem is that sometimes we forget that before we were moms, we were wives or girlfriends. And dads sometimes become a little jealous of all the attention being showered upon this little one. I'm not saying that they don't love their baby just as much, but after all, dads are always big boys at heart, and just like an older sibling becomes jealous of all the attention given to the little baby, the same thing happens to the dads. It's up to the mom to find the perfect balance between being a wife and a mother.

When we became parents, we were very involved in "Camino." This is a retreat for couples that are about to get married by the Catholic Church. I remember that this was talked about over and over again. "You have to keep your marriage alive." "You have to find time for yourselves." This is not always easy because finding a babysitter is not simple for everyone. Many people have willing grandparents but that is not always the case. But it's important because the parents are the trunk on the family tree, and if the trunk dies, the whole tree will fall apart. Children are happier when the parents are united, even if they don't make it easy because they will demand all the attention. But deep down inside, when they see mom and dad in a loving relationship, they grow more secure and sure of themselves.

Finding this balancing act was very difficult for me. Becoming a mom was and has been by far my greatest accomplishment. I would give away my degree, my business, my house and all my possessions, but I would never give away my children. They filled me and completed me in a way that nothing else mattered. They are the greatest gift that I received from God and they made me understand how much God loves us, His children.

I always knew that I wanted to be a mommy. I dreamed of it since I was a little girl. And when I tried to become pregnant and couldn't, my world came crashing down. It took two years of tests, procedures, infertility treatment, and lots and lots of prayers, until I held that baby boy for the first time in my hands. It was one of the happiest days of my life. The other two were the birth of my other two children. If I had not been able to have a child, I would have definitely adopted. I know that I would have never felt complete if I had not become a mom. But God answered my prayer, not just once but three times.

My oldest two are just 12 months apart because after trying so hard to have the first one, I never thought it would be so easy to get pregnant the second time, especially while I was breastfeeding. But I did and we had a baby girl who was in a hurry to come out and arrived three weeks ahead of schedule. You can only imagine how much time they took out of me. I worked full time at the time so between work, taking them to the sitter, feeding them, bathing them, and just simply spending time with them, by the end of the day, I was exhausted. Thinking about a night out was laughable. Our date nights revolved around the kids and their schedule. But eventually, we found our balance and even though, they were still the center of our attention, we began to focus more on each other.

I had always wanted to have four children, but having two so close together was tougher than I anticipated. By the time they were 5 and 4, I thought maybe two was plenty. After all, I had a healthy boy and a healthy girl. What more could I ask for? But God had other plans and when they were 6 and 5, He sent us a Christmas gift, another healthy baby boy. Just like his sister, he was eager to arrive early so even though we were not expecting him until early 1995, he showed up on Christmas Eve 1994. And he really came to turn our world upside down, in a good way. Now we were outnumbered with more kids in the house than adults. But we made it work and I would not change them for anything.

The hardest part for me from those early years was when they got sick. And boy, did they get sick. Not just the regular ear infections and colds. When my kids got sick, they had an uncanny ability to really complicate matters. Alex had surgery when he was 17 days old, Rafi spent 15 days in the hospital with encephalitis and Chabeli used to get these fevers out of the blue with no other symptoms, and every time they would pinch her to withdraw blood to try to figure out the reason for the fever, my heart would break. It got to the point that I wanted to keep them in a crystal box and never take them out. The minute they sneezed for the first time, I became paranoid. I didn't want to visit another hospital in my life.

If there was one thing that I would change from those early years, it would be to give them more time to be just kids. Sometimes we put so much pressure on our little ones, that we forget to just allow them to be kids. We live in an age of constant competition. We want our kids to be little Einsteins so we push them to their limit. So what if they start walking at 9 months or 15? So what if they get an A or a C? Not every little girl will become a prima ballerina and not every boy will turn out to be a Michael Jordan or a Dan Marino. We have to remember that our kids are just kids and kids need to have fun.

I got into the rat race with them. It was inevitable, everyone else was doing it. I rushed them from one activity to another. I look back and I wonder how in the world did we manage it. The car became our second home. Half the time, we ate and did homework in the car. We were juggling ballet, soccer, karate, baseball, football, cheerleading, gymnastics, piano, basketball, cross country, guitar, tennis, swimming... Yes, my kids were involved in one of those extra curricular activities at some point or another. Many times two or three at a time. I get exhausted just thinking about it. I must have been completely and utterly out of my mind. But at the time, I thought I was doing the right thing. After all, exercise is good for them. It beat having them become couch potatoes.

In retrospect, if I had to do it all over again, I would have tried to find their passion and channeled it the right way. There was no need to have them in multiple activities at one time. Their days didn't need to be accounted for to the last second. Kids need time to just be kids, to enjoy being kids and to be creative with their time. Not everything should be planned for them to the last minute detail.

Of course, hindsight is 20/20. It's easier to realize this now that I have already crossed that tunnel than when I was inside the tunnel. I think Alex had it a lot easier than Rafi and Chabeli because I had learned from my mistakes. We concentrated on just one activity at a time. He liked basketball so that's what he played. I knew he would never join the NBA, but he truly loved it and he was in the team with all his school friends. Eventually, he told me he wanted to play tennis and guitar so we added those two as well. But the difference is that it was his choice, not mine. Rafi recently confessed that he truly disliked baseball. Poor kid. I signed him up year after year. I can say that I didn't know because he never told me, but kids sometimes don't know how to say it in words. All we have to do is read their body language. He procrastinated to the last minute every time he had to go to baseball practice. The same thing happened to Chabeli and ballet. But she was more outspoken so when she was about 8 or 9, she said no more and she hung up her ballet slippers. Yet piano, she loved it. So what is the point of having them do things against their will when there are so many to choose from? Just because we liked something when we were kids doesn't mean they are going to like it too.

And when summer came, I signed them up for summer camp because they had to stay busy, every day, every hour, every minute. Until one summer when I decided that we were going to do something different. We were going to do nothing. And it was probably the best summer of their lives and the most relaxed for me. We went to the beach if we felt like it or just stayed home doing nothing. By this time I had already left the 9 to 5 work race and I was starting my own business working from home, so I had the luxury to do this. I know most working moms don't have this choice but it made me realize that our kids don't need to master everything. We need to find what they like and allow them to do that.

In the blink of an eye, our little kids will become teenagers. Sometimes I hear a young mother say: "Oh, I can't wait until she walks" or "I can't wait until he goes to school." And I want to scream: "Enjoy the moment. Hold on to today and don't push them to grow up before their time." The childhood years are the best. At night, we know where they are. The most we have to worry about is the sniffles or a bad school day. And if we give them the time to just be kids, they will surprise us with their wit, creativity and spontaneity.

One thing is certain, children don't come with instructions. We learn as they grow. But the most important thing they need from us is our unconditional love and support. We don't need to try so hard. They are a gift from God and He loves them even more than we do. So as long as we partner with Him, everything will work out fine.

Journey into the Boot: Un Riassunto

Thursday, August 25th

I feel like I just got off the plane, and here I am once again on another plane. This time, Connecticut bound. But as I head off to Connecticut, to drop off Alex in college once again, I want to do a summary of my Italy trip. As if I didn't write enough about this, you may think. I promise to put it to rest after this last journal entry.

Italy is a magnificent country, probably my favorite of all the countries I've visited so far which is really not that many considering there are 195 countries in the world and I have only been to 15. But Italy touches my heart in a way that no other country does, even Spain where I grew up and where my ancestors came from. Maybe I should do one of those ancestry tests to see if I have Italian running through my blood.

Italy has a little bit of everything. Amazing views, terrific food, beautiful art, magnificent churches, incredible history... But what touches me the most is the past it has. Beyond the history, I feel the people that have been there for over 2,000 years. On this trip, especially, I felt my heart beat faster and my skin turn to goose every time I walked where St. Paul walked before, where St. Peter was crucified, where Michelangelo painted, where Bernini created his sculptures, where Padre Pio preached, where St. Andrew rests... I don't know if the older I get, the more emotional I become because it certainly didn't affect me this way when I came for the first time almost a decade ago.

Italians have a reputation of being super nice but honestly, in general, that has not been my experience at all. As a matter of fact, I found the French to be nicer on the occasion I went to France. Overall, Italians have been dry and sometimes rude. The few that struck a conversation with us radically changed when we told them we were Cuban. At that point they wanted to talk. They wanted to hear our opinion on the changes happening between the United States and Cuba. Of course, when they found out that we were still against Castro, then they turned dry again. I've realized that most of the world just doesn't understand how much pain and suffering Castro has caused. They don't see him as another Hitler, they think we are exaggerating. But I'm getting sidetracked.

At least this time around I didn't get into any arguments with Italians.  Nine years ago when we came with the kids, I exchanged angry words with one. We were trying to buy an all day pass to spend the day at Lake Como hopping from town to town. The sailor on the boat didn't speak a lot of English or Spanish and we didn't speak a lot of Italian. So I was trying to make myself understood, and finally he said "torno?" And I answered "Si, torno." I figured that meant "return." So we paid the fee, got on the boat and the first stop was a town named "Torno" which we had no intention of visiting. He practically kicked us out of the boat. I started arguing with him that this is not where we wanted to go but he insisted that we had bought a ticket to Torno (which unfortunately we had), and he was pretty nasty about it. My husband said, "let's just get off and we'll catch the next boat." As we were getting off, some Italians that had witnessed the whole incident, told us in English: "If you don't want to go to Torno, don't get off. No other boat stops here until the end of the day." The five of us literally jumped back on the boat. After another argument with the guy, we paid the difference in fare for an all-day multiple stop ticket, and we got off on the next town.

We spent about an hour on that town and then walked up to the marina to catch the next ferry. There must be hundreds of ferries in Lake Como on any given day. I couldn't believe my eyes when the boat that arrived one hour later was the same one that had dropped us off. When the sailors saw that it was us again, they began to laugh. And we laughed with them. We discovered then that they do have a softer side, you just have to dig deep to find it. And I guess on a vacation there's just not enough time to dig so deeply.

Of course, I'm speaking in general terms. There are always exceptions and we did meet some super nice Italians: the owners of Don Alfonso Ristorante went out of their way to make us feel at home, the driver that took us there was friendly and talkative, the shuttle driver of the hotel in Amalfi was a gentle old man that always had a smile on his face (which is admirable when he had to deal with those Amalfi roads and traffic various times a day), the family in Pietrelcina that we encountered when we got lost and literally walked us to the road that we were supposed to be on, the young guys and gal that worked at the reception in the Florence hotel were really sweet, the older gentleman in Rome that saw us looking at a map and asked us if we needed help finding an address, and both of the guides that gave us the Vatican and the Scavi tours couldn't have been nicer. So I'll give a break to the ones that didn't smile or were rude. After all, I don't always smile and when I'm having a bad day, I can be a pain in the neck. Who am I to judge?

One thing they are is very devout. Even if they don't go to church, they truly believe in their patron saints, Mama Mary and God. Mama Mary was everywhere. Her image was not just inside the churches we visited. She was in every street corner, every piazza and many restaurants. And every town has its own patron saint but they are not prejudice, they pray to all the other saints as well. And I saw more than one driver do the sign of the cross as they passed by an image of Mary and/or a church. The Naples taxi driver was a little wild but he slowed down at one point to do the sign of the cross. Then he sped up. I told my husband jokingly, "he must be praying for protection, since he's quite the dare devil."

Some things that Italians have truly mastered is the food. Every dish we ate was spectacular. Even after getting sick of eating pasta, it was still delicious. And the gelato... I am an ice cream fanatic. I could live on ice cream. And I'm not too picky. My favorite is "Carvel" because I love soft ice cream. But I'm fine with Haagen-Dazs, Cold Stone, even Publix ice cream. But nothing beats gelato. It's just so creamy and yummy. I'm salivating just writing about it. I'm going to have to visit the UConn Dairy Bar this weekend to appease my ice cream fetish.

Another thing that they are really good at is the driving. I guess they have to when you have to navigate such narrow-curvy roads, and squeeze yourself into the tightest spaces to park. I did not witness an accident the entire time I was in Italy. I'm sure they happen, of course, but in Miami, rare is the day that I don't see an accident. In Italy, not even one. I guess all the signs of the cross they do while driving is working in their favor and the angels are working over time in Italy. 😜

My favorite Italian thing by a mile is "il dolce far niente" (the sweetness of doing nothing). It has nothing to do with being lazy. They are hard workers, but they have managed to find the perfect balance between work and life enjoyment. They have really mastered the joie de vivre. That is something we in the States could do a lot more off. I am convinced we would see a drop on heart attacks, cancer and all the other ailments that I have no doubt are directly related to stress. What is the point of working 50-60 hour weeks if we are not going to give ourselves time to enjoy life? We work and spend at the same rate, but we are accumulating material things and forgetting to enjoy the ones that are free: the smile of a child, walking hand in hand with a loved one, sitting at the beach doing nothing and truly enjoying it...

Some things they really need to improve in Italy, like the plumbing system. It should not be necessary to have to flush a toilet five times. And this happened in all the hotels, which were nice hotels. I can't imagine what would happen in one of those hostels that our young kids love to use when they travel abroad.

And in conclusion, as we have seen by the images of the horrible earthquake that struck Italy just a few days after we left, the Italians look out for each other. When push comes to shove, they unite and all the barriers are broken. Even in spite of the danger of the aftershocks, a whole country came together to save the victims. And even the neighboring countries and many other countries far and wide, offered a helping hand. Because at the end of the day, we are not Italians or Americans or Cubans or Jews or Christians or Muslems. We are humans and we all put family first. It would be great if we learned to join hands, not just when an earthquake strikes but all the time.

This truly was an amazing trip, in more ways than one, and even though I still have 180 countries to visit, Italy is definitely on my "return to" list.

Prego!!!