Bridging a 25-Year Gap

"Daddy's little girl" is a term that we hear often. I never understood its full meaning until I witnessed the relationship between my husband and our daughter. The bond between a father and daughter is very strong and that is why when that bond breaks, the pain leaves profound scars. I have attended a lot of Emmaus retreats and I have seen first hand how many women are carrying the burden of their broken relationships with their fathers. We may have issues with our mothers but because deep inside we always long to be "daddy's little girl," if there is a fissure in the relationship with our fathers, that pain tends to hurt twice as much.

A long time ago, I was also "daddy's little girl." I clearly remember the Sundays that I would spend with my dad. He would pick me up in the morning and we would either go to "El Vedado," where his aunt and uncle owned a school, or we would go to the beach or to the park or to walk along "El Malecon." I cherished those memories, especially after I left Cuba. Little did I know, on that November day, that I would not see my father again for 25 years.

During the first four years that I lived in Spain, I received monthly letters from my dad. I longed for those letters. They filled the hole that I had in my heart. Sometimes the letters would come with pictures of my two little brothers. I loved to see the faces of those two little boys I barely knew but whom I cared for deeply. And then one day, when I was eleven years old, I received a letter that broke my heart. The Cuban government had threatened my father and he could not write to me anymore. He told me that the biggest mistake of his life was allowing me to leave Cuba. Even though I was just a little girl, I felt betrayed. In my mind, he was choosing the government over me. I was angry, I was hurt and I let him know, in no uncertain terms, how I felt. In the last letter that I wrote to him, I told him that allowing me to leave Cuba was the best decision he had made because I lived in freedom, while he lived under the oppression of a government that could dictate to him even something as simple as writing a letter to his only daughter.

I probably would have wiped him from my heart, but my paternal grandmother made sure that I didn't. She took off where he left off. She began to write to me. She kept sending me pictures of my brothers. She kept open the lines of communication between our two distant families. She made sure that the fissure in our relationship would not be broken beyond repair. When her hand became old and frail, and she could no longer write to me, she made sure that my dad continued to write to me in her name. I knew it was my dad because I recognized his handwriting, but he never signed the letters.

I wrote back to my grandmother but I had erected a huge wall around my heart against my father. I wanted to protect my heart. I wanted to make sure I would never feel the pain of betrayal again. And then, 20 years after he stopped writing me, I received a letter from him. By that time, my grandmother had died, and I was a wife and mother with two small children. In the letter, he told me that he wanted to come and visit me. The decision was up to me. By this time, people from Cuba could come to visit their relatives in the United States as long as the US relative extended an invitation, the US relative paid all the expenses, and both the US and the Cuban governments gave their permission. The ball was on my side of the court. I could allow the pain of twenty years to dictate my decision or I could open a small door in the wall of my heart. I chose the latter.

Twenty-five years after I waved good-bye to my dad at the airport in Havana, I embraced him at the airport in Miami. To say that I was nervous is an understatement. When I saw him emerge from the terminal gate, I realized this was not the dad that I remembered. The young, tall, and strong hero from my childhood days had been replaced by an older version who seemed to be carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. He no longer looked tall and invincible. He looked tired and frail. My heart went out to him and I allowed him to hug me. I knew he had suffered more than I had, and yet, I still was not ready to tear down the wall around my heart.

He spent a month with us. I felt that he wanted to pick up where we left off, but I was no longer that 7-year-old girl that kissed the ground he walked on. I was no longer daddy's little girl. Every time he tried to hold my hand, I cringed. Every time he tried to talk to me about the past, I would change the subject. I made sure I was always surrounded with people. I was terrified of being alone with him. As long as I kept my heart guarded, I would be fine. A few days before he returned to Cuba, I took my kids to the park and he came along. I watched as he pushed Rafi and Chabeli on the swings, and I thought to myself, this is good. He is getting to know his grandchildren and they are getting to know their grandfather.

Then, he came and sat by my side on the bench, and he began to talk. He told me how the Cuban government had never forgiven him for signing off the permission slip that allowed my mother to take me out of Cuba. He told me how they threatened him about losing his job if he didn't cut off all ties with me. He told me how difficult it had been for him to write that fateful letter, and how for years, his biggest regret had been to allow me to leave Cuba. I allowed him to talk but I didn't say a word. My heart had been frozen within the walls of bitterness.

And then the day came when we had to say good-bye for the second time. This time was very different from that other good-bye, twenty-five years earlier. This time I was very much aware that this might be the last time that I would see him. I had no intentions of going to Cuba, and after treating him so coldly, I doubted he would want to come to visit us again. I hugged him good-bye, but I didn't shed a tear. I knew he was broken with pain, but I was incapable of saying a word of comfort to him. The airport was packed with family and friends that had come to say good-bye, for which I was grateful. In that ocean of people, I could hide behind the wall I had erected.

We left the airport in silence, well, except for the kids that were two chatterboxes full of questions: "When is abuelo coming to visit us again?" "Can we go to Cuba to visit him?" I had no answers. All I had was a knot in my heart. And that night, the walls that I had been erecting around my heart for over twenty years came tumbling down in a rush of tears. All the pain that I had securely hidden within came pouring out with only my hubby as witness. "What have I done?" I asked to no one in particular. "I sent him back without making amends." I could have extended his visit for at least another month. He had hinted various times that one of my brothers told him not to return. But I chose to close my ears as well as my heart, and now, it was too late. God had given me a great opportunity for reconciliation and I literally threw it out the door. We were on the Easter season and I did not show my father any sign of affection. And now he was gone.

But God had a bigger plan. It actually turned out that sending him back was the best decision I made, as I will share in a future reflection. Two years later my father moved permanently to Miami. God gave me a second chance at a full reconciliation. On this Easter Sunday, I can honestly say that my heart holds no bitterness whatsoever towards my father. He had two small boys that he had to feed, two elderly parents to care for and he had to make a tough choice. A choice that cost him a lot more than it cost me. When I hear daily on the news, everything that is happening now with Cuba, and the opinions from both sides of the gulf, I can honestly say that bridging that 50-year gap will not be easy, but it's not impossible. I made the decision to cross the bridge and remove 25 years of pain and bitterness from my heart. And I can walk a lot lighter because of it.

Every woman, deep inside, longs to be "daddy's little girl." If you still have the blessing of having your father alive, and your relationship is broken because of something that happened in the past, mend fences before it's too late. It's time to repair those broken bonds. And even though you may not hold hands the way you once did, you will feel much better once you remove all those old resentments from your heart. If he is no longer present on this earth, write him a letter or send him a prayer. Resentment weights too much, and it affects the person that carries it around much more than it hurts the other person. Find it deep within your heart to forgive. You will become a better person because of it and you will feel much lighter.

God bless you and have a blessed Easter!!!

The Joseph in my Life

"Listen, children, to a father’s instruction, and be attentive, that you may gain insight." Proverbs 4:1

I would not dare to compare myself to Jesus in any way, shape or form because I would always fall short. But I do have something in common with Him. Jesus had two dads and so do I. And I'm not counting God as one of those dads. No, I'm only counting my earthly dads. Remember that show in the 80s? It was called "My Two Dads" and I always related to it because I have been blessed with two earthly dads.

I know many persons that have a step-father but they never truly consider him a dad. Maybe it was because my step-father entered my life when I was only three years old or most likely because he has always been an amazing father, but I have never considered him my step-dad, he has been my dad as far back as I can remember. I actually recall the day that I started calling him "papi." I was eight years old, living in Spain. At that time, I still called him "Ramon," but none of my friends and neighbors in Madrid knew that he was not my biological father. One day, a neighbor heard me calling him, "Ramon, Ramon!!!" and she assumed that's how children addressed their fathers back in Cuba. She told me, "here in Spain children don't address their fathers by their name, they call them 'papá'." I went to my mom and I asked her, "do you think Ramon will mind if I call him 'papá'?" She told me, "why don't you go ask him yourself." And so I did. And that day I saw tears in his eyes.

My dad was the perfect combination of toughness and kindness. He was very strict with me when I was growing up but I knew that he loved me as if I was his real daughter. He never raised his voice or his hand at me but whenever I did something wrong, he punished me and I knew he meant it. If my punishment was supposed to last one week, he never cut it short. I am the woman that I am today because of that combination of love and strictness. He taught me always to respect, to be kind, to love and to give the best of myself.

Even though I was apart from my biological father for twenty-five years, my dad never allowed me to forget that I had another father. He never tried to replace him. Now that my biological father lives in Miami and I get to spend time with both of them in many celebrations, like Christmas, my dad always makes sure to let me know that he is very happy that I invited my father to be with us.

The past three years have been tough on him as he sees his health fail him. But he is one tough cookie. Rafael, my husband, claims that he has more lives than a cat and must be living now his 12th life at least. And he is right. He has been through more hospitalizations and surgeries than I can recall. Three years ago he almost lost his leg. Last year, he almost lost his life when both lungs collapsed. But thank God, it always stays in "almost." We have been celebrating the last three Christmases as if it may be the last one and thank God, we continue to have him with us. He even got to return to Spain last October, a dream that three years ago we thought it would be impossible. And I wouldn't be the least surprised if he goes back this year. That is my dad, the "energizer bunny," he just keeps going and going.

The relationship that he has with my mom is one to be admired. He simply adores her. I truly believe that he is grabbing on to this life with all his might because he is afraid to leave her alone. During all his hospitalizations, he was more worried about my mom than about himself. I remember one time, after he came out of the anesthesia, a little disoriented, he looked around the room and when he saw my mom, his face just lighted up with the biggest smile. My mom asked him, "what are you so happy about?" And he answered her, "I'm happy because I was afraid that I would never see you again." I thought to myself, "this is better than a romantic movie." When they told us that they may need to cut his leg, his response was, "I'm sorry for your mom." He wasn't worried about losing his leg, he was worried about becoming a burden to my mom. That's what true love is, caring about the one you love more than you care about yourself. And he's had that love for my mom for fifty years.

My relationship with him has always been strong but it has solidified itself in these past years. All those hospitalizations gave us the opportunity to spend quality time together. I learned things about his past that I never knew. It confirmed what I always knew. My dad has a heart of gold and Heaven has a room waiting for him. But he's not ready yet... And in the meantime, we get to enjoy his presence in our lives for a little longer.

God bless you papi and may He continue to give you the strength to carry on.

Into the Light

"The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness—on them light has shined." 

Isaiah 9:2

"If anyone asks me 'Are you OK?' or 'Is there anything I can do for you?' then I won't jump." But nobody asked him and because he felt that no one cared, he jumped off the Golden Gate Bridge. He was just nineteen years old at the time, he had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder and he had begun to hear voices telling him he had to die. He shared his miracle story of surviving against all odds with an enthralled audience on Sunday, February 21st at the Pullman Hotel in Miami. Kevin Hines, author of "Cracked Not Broken, Surviving and Thriving after a Suicide Attempt," was the guest speaker at the First Inaugural Luncheon of the Key Clubhouse of South Florida, an organization that helps persons that suffer from mental illness. His story touched the hearts of the almost three hundred persons that were present at the event.

The Key Clubhouse opened its doors in Miami six years ago to fill a big gap in our community. Florida rated 50th in the country at the time, when it came to resources and funding for mental illness. In six years we have moved up one space in the ranking which is very sad when statistics show that one in every four adults living in our state suffers from some kind of mental illness. The majority of our homeless population suffers from a mental illness and a large portion of the persons locked up in our jails suffer from a mental illness. Lack of funding should never be an excuse. And that is the main goal of the Key Clubhouse. The Key Clubhouse's mission is to afford people whose lives have been disrupted by mental illness the opportunity to recover meaningful and productive lives through reintegration into the workplace and the community. Their goal is a high quality of life for all members, ongoing improvement, and the ultimate elimination of stigma associated with mental illness. And they don't charge a penny for their services. Any adult, living with mental illness, can join for free and membership is for life. In the past six years, they have helped over three hundred adults.

When a person is diagnosed with a serious mental illness, they go through a period of total darkness. All of a sudden, life as they knew it, is no more. Accepting that they have a mental illness is usually the biggest hurdle. Sometimes they fall into a deep depression. Other times they hear voices in their heads that are telling them to do things that otherwise they would not even consider. Most of the times, these voices command them to hurt themselves or to take their own lives because that is the best solution since they have become a burden to their loved ones. When a person that suffers from a mental illness dies because of suicide, they did not do it willingly. They truly believed that taking their life was what they needed to do. It was their only solution at the time.

The Key Clubhouse stands in our community as a beacon of hope, love, joy and healing. They bring members out of the darkness and into the light. That was the theme of our luncheon, "Into the Light." And almost three hundred persons gathered together to tell Kevin Hines and all the clubhouse members that they do care and that they stand behind them. A person living with a mental illness can have a meaningful and productive life in spite of their mental illness. Kevin Hines is living proof that this is possible. And so are all the members that were present at the event. Many of them have found jobs and are now reintegrated in our community living a quality of life that had not been possible if it had not been for the hope and the help that they found at the Key Clubhouse.

So next time you see a person on the street that looks lost or broken, take the time to ask: "Are you OK? or "Is there anything I can do for you?" You may be saving a life.

To find out more about the Key Clubhouse, to donate or to partner with them for employment, please visit:

http://www.keyclubhouse.org or call 305-374-5115.

Our Heavenly Father

"An angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, 'Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.'” Matthew 1:20-21

When we talk about our Heavenly Father, we always refer to God. But today, I would like to talk about a different heavenly father. Today, I would like to talk about Joseph, Mary's husband and Jesus' earthly father.

We know very little about Joseph. We know that he was "a righteous man" (Mat 1:19). We know that he was "engaged to Mary" (Mat 1:18). We know that he was obedient because "he did as the angel of God had commanded him" (Mat 1:24). And from everything that we have read about him, we can conclude that he was humble and hard working. Joseph doesn’t get a starring role in the Bible story. He doesn't even get to utter a single word. But his part is very important. His task is to watch over Mary and the baby Jesus. Joseph had the important role of caring for the needs of others.

I must confess that I don't have a close relationship with Joseph. It's a shame because Joseph should be a very important part of my life. I could learn a lot from him about trust. Whenever my life takes a nasty turn, I cry out, just like Joseph must have cried out, "God, why?" But Joseph heard God's voice saying, "Trust Me." And God says the same thing to us when we don't understand why our life doesn't develop the way that we had planned. God’s ways are not always our ways. His thoughts are higher than our thoughts, and we may never understand everything that God is doing this side of heaven, but God says, "Trust Me, and all things will work together for good."

Joseph can also teach us a lot about love. His love for Mary reflects Paul’s definition: "Love is patient and kind. Love does not envy or boast; it is not proud or rude. Love is not self-seeking or easily angered. It keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil, but it rejoices in the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres" (I Cor 13). Instead of being upset at the unexpected turn his life took, Joseph accepted Jesus as his own. Joseph followed God's instructions—journeying from Nazareth to Bethlehem, then to Egypt, then back to Nazareth. And in return for his obedience, God gave Joseph a gift. God gave him His own Son as a very precious gift.

A priest once told me that Joseph is a great intercessor for our finances. Whenever we are going through some financial issues, we can pray to Joseph to intercede for us. This priest told me that he was having some financial troubles at his church. The roof needed to be replaced but it was a poor parish and they didn't have the funds for such a huge improvement. He asked his parishioners to give what they could but most of them were very poor. One of the parishioners brought him a huge statue of St. Joseph. The priest thanked him but he thought to himself: "What am I supposed to do with this huge statue? The church needs a new roof not another statue." The priest placed the statue of St. Joseph in the garden and asked for his intercession in helping him raise the funds needed for the roof. Within a few weeks, he received by mail from an anonymous donor the money that he needed to replace the roof. He felt that St. Joseph played a key role in this and since then, he looked at St. Joseph with new eyes.

This Lent I'm going to try to improve my relationship with this heavenly father. I'm going to ask him to teach me how to trust the way he did, to show me how to love others in the same way that he loved  Mary and Jesus, and to help me imitate him when putting the needs of others ahead of my own.

"O Glorious St. Joseph, you who have power to render possible even things that are considered impossible, come to our aid in our present trouble and distress. Take this important and difficult affair under your particular protection that it may end happily. (mention your request)

O dear St. Joseph, all our confidence is in you. Let it not be said that we would invoke you in vain; and since you are so powerful with Jesus and Mary, show that your goodness equals your power. Amen."

Lenten Reflections

This year I will not be doing a separate Lenten journey. I will continue my meditations about relationships when the Holy Spirit strikes me and the time allows me. But I would like to recommend two great sources for Lenten reflections. If you like one or both, you can sign up to receive them by email:

http://www.lentreflections.com/ash-wednesday-into-the-desert/


http://www.loyolapress.com/lenten-moments-of-mercy.htm?utm_source=lmom&utm_medium=email&utm_content=20160210&utm_campaign=Lent2016

Make it a great Lent.

Our Heavenly Mother

"When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing beside her, he said to his mother, “Woman, here is your son.” Then he said to the disciple, “Here is your mother.” John 19:26-27

When Jesus is on the Cross, He gives all of humanity an incredible gift. When He tells "the disciple whom he loved, "here is your mother," He is giving all of us a heavenly Mother. In that moment, Mary becomes Mother of all humanity. In his 1987 encyclical Redemptoris Mater, Saint Pope John Paul II says: "This is true not only of John, who at that hour stood at the foot of the Cross together with the Mother (of Jesus), but it is also true of every disciple of Christ, of every Christian (45.3)."

As I was growing up, I did not have a close relationship with my Heavenly Mother. Even though I attended a Catholic school in Spain that was all about Mary, I found the rosary tedious and boring. It could be because they made us pray it so much at school, and for an 8 or 9-year-old child to be on their knees on wooden pews, praying the rosary, was just not fun. 

My relationship with Mama Mary, has grown and strengthened in the past thirty years. The turning point happened when I had trouble becoming pregnant. After months of infertility treatment, I turned to Mama Mary and prayed to Her for Her intercession. I began to pray the rosary again and shortly thereafter, I found out that I was expecting. 

Now, She is my confidant. As a mother of three, every time that I am going through a difficult time with one of my sons or daughter, I feel that She can relate. She can understand my pain better than anyone because as a Mother herself, She felt in Her heart the agony of every mother on earth. When Simeon told her, "a sword will pierce your own soul (Luke 2:35)," he was also talking to all mothers for generations to come.

No matter what relationship we have or had with our earthly mother, it is a great comfort to know that we have a second Mother that we can trust with our deepest worries. She is always present, ready to listen to us. She brings us peace and love. After I pray the rosary, a serenity invades my heart like no other prayer does. Mama Mary, understands better than anyone, the pain of a mother's soul. She sits with us at night when we are worried for that son or daughter that is out there somewhere and is keeping us from a restful sleep. She holds our hand when our child is sick and we are agonizing because we wish it was us instead of him or her. And when a mother loses a child, Mama Mary cries with her. Yes, "a sword pierced her soul," just like Simeon predicted, and She knows, better than anyone, the pain that a mother experiences when she has to bury her own child.

Jesus couldn't have given us a bigger gift. By giving us His Mother, He made sure that none of us would ever be orphans. She is the greatest blessing to humanity. And whether we accept Her as our Mother or not, it's a choice that everyone has to make on their own. But because I have embraced Her, I can honestly say that our Blessed Mama Mary, is our model of Love and Mercy, and She intercedes with her Son Jesus for us, her children on earth.

Love at First Sight

"The loveliest materpiece of the heart of God is the love of a Mother." St. Therese of Lisieux

Since the moment we open our eyes, we love our mom more than any other human being in the world. Of course, none of us remember that moment which is probably a good thing. Being born, from a baby's point of view, should be quite scary. After being all warm and cozy for nine months in our mother's womb, all of a sudden we are being pushed out into the unknown. We go from complete darkness into this room filled with bright lights. We are poked, weighted and measured. We are cold and in pain. And then, we are wrapped and placed in our mother's arms. We hear a soft, soothing voice. A voice that is familiar to us because we have been hearing it for the past nine months. And in the cradle of our mother's arms, we know that we are loved. And we love back. It is love at first sight.

No matter what type of mother we ended up with, just the fact that she chose to give birth to us is enough reason to be thankful. She carried us for nine months, endured the pain of labor and loved us the way only a mother can love. This is the first relationship that we ever experienced and it will mark, in a way, every other relationship in our lives. Through our mother, we learn how to love.

I was blessed with a very young mom. She was only twenty years old when I was born. She belonged to the first generation of women to be mothers and professionals at the same time. Even though she was never able to go to college because she graduated from high school the year that communism took a hold of her country, she was able to get a job at a bank. As an only child herself, she was the center of my grandparents' life and therefore, she was able to count on them to take care of me while she worked. All this changed when we left Cuba. Now, in retrospect, I realize what a huge sacrifice she made in order to give me a better future. She left her country and her parents, not knowing if she would ever see them again. She had just celebrated her 28th birthday when we boarded a plane to Spain, without money and carrying only the clothes that we were wearing. How scary that must have been for her. But she marched forward because she knew in her heart that freedom was the greatest blessing.

Growing up, I admired my mother a lot. She was a strict mom but I always knew, without any doubt, that she loved me unconditionally. A friend from my childhood told me recently that she remembered my mom as being a very elegant lady. She was right. My mom always wore the latest fashion. Of course, it helped that my grandmother was a seamstress, but her sense of style was ingrained in her every fiber. She was also a hard worker. In Spain, she got a job almost immediately after we arrived. And when we moved to the United States, she got a job at a local bank within a week of our arrival. She enjoyed working and from what I've heard through the years, she was loved and respected by both her bosses and co-workers. I don't remember my mom ever being unemployed. She worked until the day she retired.

Today, I have a wonderful relationship with my mom. We talk on a daily basis about everything. I value her opinions and she respects mine. We are friends, and I know I can count with her love and support no matter what. She has been a trooper in the past few years with my father's illness. She faces adversity head on but also knows how to enjoy life to the fullest. She taught me that when adversity strikes, you pray but you also dance. I have learned from her to put God above all things and to trust that no matter how hard things get, God is always in control.

I know that not everyone has such a close relationship with their mother. I have a friend that has not talked to her mother in years. They had a fallout, which in my opinion was a huge misunderstanding, but because they are both very proud, neither wants to take the first step towards reconciliation. This separation has affected my friend tremendously. She doesn't talk about her mother, ever, yet I know that she carries a huge pain in her heart. I told her once that she should write her mother a letter and she got angry at me. She told me that I didn't understand because I had never had a fight with my mother. I've never brought up the subject again.

And my friend was wrong. I've had my share of fights with my mother. But they never lasted longer than 24 hours. I can't imagine going days, much less years, without talking to my mom. My heart would not survive. My advice to my friend and to everyone that has become distant from their mothers, is to put aside pride and to cross the bridge towards forgiveness. No matter what happened, it's in the past. Try to focus towards the good memories that you have about your mom. Remember your childhood when your mom was the center of your universe. Rekindle that love before it's too late.

Last year was a very tough year. A lot of my friends and family members lost their moms. Even though they know that their moms are in paradise enjoying a new life in the Lord, they still miss their physical presence, their shared moments, drinking un cafecito together, a long conversation, a hug and a kiss. If you are blessed to have your mom alive, spend time with her. If your mom is no longer physically here, be comforted with the hope that one day, you will open your eyes in heaven and you will be wrapped once again in your mother's arms. You will hear her soft, soothing voice. A voice that is very familiar because you heard it all your life. And in the cradle of your mother's arms you will know that you are loved. And you will know that you have arrived to paradise.