| “ |
Relationships are a lot like flowers. If you find the right seed, put
it in good soil, give it water and sunlight, bam. Perfect bud. And then
comes winter and the flower dies. But if you tend that garden, spring
will come along and that flower will bloom again.
| ” |
|
I love the show - Glee... I am total Gleek and do not miss an episode.
Recently, Finn said the above words to Rachel and it really got me thinking
about Spring. After months of a cold, grey winter it brings so much comfort to know that Spring will come. That even if you cannot see the flower, the seed you know is planted beneath the cold, icy soil will eventually bloom again. It isn't a question, it isn't a possibility... it is a certainty.
There are so many seeds trapped beneath the icy soil in my life right now. Seeds that have once been in full bloom, seeds that are old, seeds that are new and have not yet had a chance to grow. I have been in the season of "winter" not just literally but in every other sense and I am comforted because very soon, MY SPRING WILL COME.
It can be tough to face change, uncertainty and even the death of something in our lives. A job, a relationship, a door that closes before we can see any new one opening up... but I can say that I know for sure these times are necessary. Time to reflect, time to pray, time to regroup is just necessary. I am not a big fan of the winter but I know it is a necessary time. I've recently been through quite a winter and I knew from the moment it started that it is exactly what I needed. I am not saying it hasn't been difficult or that I've enjoyed it... the winter is gloomy, cold, empty even. But I am saying that I know I needed a winter of my very own. A time to snuggle underneath the covers and talk to God because after-all, it is only a season.
And I sit here in anticipation of my Spring... because I know it will be here soon....Tend that garden, spring will come along and that flower will bloom again.
Song of Solomon 2:11-13
| ||
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
Spring will come...
Monday, March 4, 2013
Confessions of a PK, Part 2: Kid Under the Microscope
Let me start with this... I have a Pastor and he has two beautiful little daughters. I feel such a strong connection to those girls because of my upbringing and I also appreciate the work their parents do so much, that I seek to love on these kids, protect them, let them know how special they are... because YES, their parents work hard to bless my life and so YES they are special to me. I strive to treat my Pastor's kids in this way because if I am telling the truth, it is the way I would have liked to be treated in my Grandfather's church.
I remember the first time I felt like I was under the microscope. A deacon in the church made it her life's mission to "catch me" talking to a friend during the sermon. Let's face it, an 11 year old kid is going to get a little distracted during a 5 hour long service so all of us would talk, pass notes, the usual. But it's like this woman needed it to be me... she waited, she watched and boy would she complain. It was the first time I realized that I was different from my friends in church.. and to be honest, I didn't want to be. I just wanted to be a regular kid.
I felt people were harder on me than anyone else because of who my Grandfather was... I guess they thought that if he was this amazing, God pleasing person I should be too... so my attitude quickly became -- "I am going to be".
I was an over-achiever and I aimed to please others right away... but somehow I always ended up feeling inadequate because my passion was never enough, my effort was never enough... heck, even my heart was never enough. I know now that this is the problem with a legalistic belief system... that no one ever really measures up (Romans 4:15) and there are certain biblical truths I would be on a journey to discover myself. Still, I had to face many road bumps along the way.
I had to smile, I had to be on my A-game all of the time and I to this day, wish adults would have known better than to put that kind of pressure on me. The weird thing is my Grandfather himself never put that pressure on me... he would get complaints about how "April wore the wrong thing to church today" or "April didn't come to such and such event" and he never even told me about them. I would later come to learn that someone called him at home or pulled him aside and he would always, always SHUT THEM DOWN. Afterall, I was his baby =) I have to credit my grandmother for this too. She would always stick up for me.
Over time, I had to learn how to take it in stride and simply be true to myself. It is still something I am learning to do. One thing I learned from my Grandfather is that nothing is more important than loving others. Even when I did feel judged by someone else, I worked hard to love them because it is really love that conquers all.
I hated feeling like a specimen under the microscope... there is an element of that, that I still struggle with to this day. My guard is always up... in many negative ways it formed me but now I can say that it formed me in positive ways too.
I am so grateful for everything in my life... I wish some things could have been different but overall, I am just grateful. I love you Welo!
I remember the first time I felt like I was under the microscope. A deacon in the church made it her life's mission to "catch me" talking to a friend during the sermon. Let's face it, an 11 year old kid is going to get a little distracted during a 5 hour long service so all of us would talk, pass notes, the usual. But it's like this woman needed it to be me... she waited, she watched and boy would she complain. It was the first time I realized that I was different from my friends in church.. and to be honest, I didn't want to be. I just wanted to be a regular kid.
I felt people were harder on me than anyone else because of who my Grandfather was... I guess they thought that if he was this amazing, God pleasing person I should be too... so my attitude quickly became -- "I am going to be".
 |
| With my Grandfather on Christmas morning... (Jasmine is the closest thing to a Latina Princess we have okay) |
I was an over-achiever and I aimed to please others right away... but somehow I always ended up feeling inadequate because my passion was never enough, my effort was never enough... heck, even my heart was never enough. I know now that this is the problem with a legalistic belief system... that no one ever really measures up (Romans 4:15) and there are certain biblical truths I would be on a journey to discover myself. Still, I had to face many road bumps along the way.
I had to smile, I had to be on my A-game all of the time and I to this day, wish adults would have known better than to put that kind of pressure on me. The weird thing is my Grandfather himself never put that pressure on me... he would get complaints about how "April wore the wrong thing to church today" or "April didn't come to such and such event" and he never even told me about them. I would later come to learn that someone called him at home or pulled him aside and he would always, always SHUT THEM DOWN. Afterall, I was his baby =) I have to credit my grandmother for this too. She would always stick up for me.
 |
| Holding me as a baby |
I hated feeling like a specimen under the microscope... there is an element of that, that I still struggle with to this day. My guard is always up... in many negative ways it formed me but now I can say that it formed me in positive ways too.
I am so grateful for everything in my life... I wish some things could have been different but overall, I am just grateful. I love you Welo!
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Confessions of a PK: Part 1
From Wikipedia: Preacher's kid (abbreviated as PK) is a term to refer to a child of a preacher, pastor, deacon, vicar, lay leader, minister or other similar church leader. Although the phrase can be used in a purely descriptive way, it may also used be as a stereotype.
Technically speaking, my MOM is actually the Pastor's kid... her dad (my grandfather) has been in ministry as a pentecostal preacher/pastor (say THAT 5 times fast!) since he was only 17 years old. Although my mom was raised in the church, when the time came for her to move out on her own she also went her own way for a while in terms of faith. My mom moved 3000 miles away to California to raise her family and while she taught us about the importance of God in our lives, I can't say that I ever felt or understood the magnitude this faith had in our family. My grandparents would come visit every summer and we'd have family worship services every Sunday while they were in town. I loved it! We would sing songs and my Grandpa would preach a sermon and I just loved my grandparents and everything about them. I thought my Grandfather was like.. one of God's favorite people or some kind of VIP or something. I remember thinking that if I just asked him to pray for something, it would come true. He was like magic! When the summer was over, they would get on a plane back to New York and life would continue... we'd go to church on special occasions, I'd say my prayers every night.. but nothing outside of that. Until the divorce...
When my parents called it quits on their marriage, my mom needed a way to support my brother and me on her own. I've written about my father before so needless to say, he was not very involved. I was 10 years old at the time and we moved to New York to live with my Grandparents. Immediately, we started going to church with them every Sunday (anyone under that roof, goes to church) and Mondays, and Tuesdays, and Fridays.... it was a full time gig. As a child, I loved being a part of the church. I began to really grow and realize certain talents that I had by being able to express them at church. I found a new sense of belonging and made so many lifelong friends. But my "church life" did not remain in that building... I was the Pastor's kid... it was in my everyday life, in my home, and eventually ingrained in me as a person.
My Grandfather was the real deal. He was so passionate about his work for God and he really, truly, lived out everything that he preached. I'm not saying he didn't make mistakes but he was genuine and full of love for God and the people that he led. He kept a yellow notepad by the phone in the kitchen with the name and number of every single member of his congregation. He Pastored over 300 people (for a church in the south Bronx, that is a lot!) and every Sunday evening would grab that notepad and make phone calls to everyone who had missed service that day. He made all his calls from the kitchen and I'd hear him saying - "I missed you, can I pray for you, I hope to see you next week". He would pray every single morning in the living room of our house at 5am. I would sometimes sit down in the hallway when I couldn't sleep and listen to him pray... it was inspiring and heart warming the way he mentioned every single man, woman, and child by name.
I can't say that the Pentecostal religion was the path for my life, but I can say that a path of faith in Christ was and I know that it was my Grandfather who started me on this path. My experience being in a Pastoral family with a fundamentalist belief system was not always great. Many times I was made to feel judged, inadequate, constantly watched and observed by others. Those pressures and negative experiences are something I know I need to work through, but today I will just tell you that my Grandfather represented NONE of those things. He was loving, he was inclusive, he was the first one to admit that he was flawed and imperfect and he truly LOVED people. He truly loved me and it is a love I feel even now that he has dementia and can no longer verbally express.
I'm interested in hearing from any other PK's out there. As I work through this and write about it, I'd love to know what you think. That's all for now.
XO,
 |
| My grandfather officiating a wedding |
When my parents called it quits on their marriage, my mom needed a way to support my brother and me on her own. I've written about my father before so needless to say, he was not very involved. I was 10 years old at the time and we moved to New York to live with my Grandparents. Immediately, we started going to church with them every Sunday (anyone under that roof, goes to church) and Mondays, and Tuesdays, and Fridays.... it was a full time gig. As a child, I loved being a part of the church. I began to really grow and realize certain talents that I had by being able to express them at church. I found a new sense of belonging and made so many lifelong friends. But my "church life" did not remain in that building... I was the Pastor's kid... it was in my everyday life, in my home, and eventually ingrained in me as a person.
 |
| My hubby and I at a Pastor appreciation service for my Grandpa |
My Grandfather was the real deal. He was so passionate about his work for God and he really, truly, lived out everything that he preached. I'm not saying he didn't make mistakes but he was genuine and full of love for God and the people that he led. He kept a yellow notepad by the phone in the kitchen with the name and number of every single member of his congregation. He Pastored over 300 people (for a church in the south Bronx, that is a lot!) and every Sunday evening would grab that notepad and make phone calls to everyone who had missed service that day. He made all his calls from the kitchen and I'd hear him saying - "I missed you, can I pray for you, I hope to see you next week". He would pray every single morning in the living room of our house at 5am. I would sometimes sit down in the hallway when I couldn't sleep and listen to him pray... it was inspiring and heart warming the way he mentioned every single man, woman, and child by name.
I can't say that the Pentecostal religion was the path for my life, but I can say that a path of faith in Christ was and I know that it was my Grandfather who started me on this path. My experience being in a Pastoral family with a fundamentalist belief system was not always great. Many times I was made to feel judged, inadequate, constantly watched and observed by others. Those pressures and negative experiences are something I know I need to work through, but today I will just tell you that my Grandfather represented NONE of those things. He was loving, he was inclusive, he was the first one to admit that he was flawed and imperfect and he truly LOVED people. He truly loved me and it is a love I feel even now that he has dementia and can no longer verbally express.
 |
| Hanging out Poolside at a family reunion. THIS is the side of him I will always hold close... the jokester, the storyteller, the Father I was missing and he so boldly stepped in to be for me :) |
I'm interested in hearing from any other PK's out there. As I work through this and write about it, I'd love to know what you think. That's all for now.
XO,
Thursday, January 17, 2013
One Month and they are not forgotten ...
 |
| 20 Beautiful Babies and 6 Heroic Educators who lost their lives on December 14th 2012 |
There are so many debates going on politically and otherwise in the aftermath of this tragedy. Gun control, mental health, school safety... and trust me, I have opinions but for this purpose I don't think sharing them makes much difference. I pray to God that he would have a hand in our country's government and that he would impart wisdom to those officials involved in making decisions in these areas. I pray that God himself would intervene here and I pray that we never, ever, ever, have to experience a tragedy like this again.
I pray for all our babies... that God would keep them safe from harm and that we would never take a single precious moment we have with them for granted.
May God give strength to the families who lost so much on that day just one month ago.
Xoxo,
PS - The parents of the victims have started an organization called "Sandy Hook Promise". If you haven't already, please sign up to take the pledge and donate to help this organization move forward and support the families in need.
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| http://www.sandyhookpromise.org/ |
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
Crappy
You'll have to forgive me if I am not in an inspirational mood today. My perspective is a little different and this is all about the good AND the bad so here it goes:
How crappy does it feel when someone is your friend and supports you only when in their eyes you are doing "the right thing"? Do the wrong thing though.. and their support is pulled out from underneath you because strings were always attached to their friendship anyway.
How crappy does it feel when you are in a very difficult life moment and someone turns their back on you?
How crappy does it feel when you are about to jump off the ledge and rather than "talk you down", someone just gives you a good, hard, kick?!
How crappy does it feel when you know you have made a mistake and someone verbally and emotionally abuses you because they can't get over their own disappointment and think for a second about how you must be feeling?
I'll tell you... it feels supremely, utterly, enormously, CRAPPY.
If you want to be a judge, go to freakin law school and invest in a gavel... otherwise, LEARN HOW TO LOVE because I guarantee you will find yourself in a position one day, where you will need to cash in on some love and support in your darkest times.
End of rant. We can now resume our regularly scheduled programming and be inspirational and positive for the remainder of the day.
*curtsey*
How crappy does it feel when someone is your friend and supports you only when in their eyes you are doing "the right thing"? Do the wrong thing though.. and their support is pulled out from underneath you because strings were always attached to their friendship anyway.
How crappy does it feel when you are in a very difficult life moment and someone turns their back on you?
How crappy does it feel when you are about to jump off the ledge and rather than "talk you down", someone just gives you a good, hard, kick?!
How crappy does it feel when you know you have made a mistake and someone verbally and emotionally abuses you because they can't get over their own disappointment and think for a second about how you must be feeling?
I'll tell you... it feels supremely, utterly, enormously, CRAPPY.
If you want to be a judge, go to freakin law school and invest in a gavel... otherwise, LEARN HOW TO LOVE because I guarantee you will find yourself in a position one day, where you will need to cash in on some love and support in your darkest times.
End of rant. We can now resume our regularly scheduled programming and be inspirational and positive for the remainder of the day.
*curtsey*
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Perspective
per·spec·tive
/pərˈspektiv/
Noun
A picture drawn in such a way, esp. one appearing to enlarge or extend the actual space, or to give the effect of distance.
I've always loved the arts... I love to spend my time immersed in music, theater and literature. I love a good story and whether I am listening to a favorite song or reading an exciting book, it's all about the good stories. That's probably why I love to write.. I need to write... because there's always a story to tell. While I appreciate fine art and love to visit museums to look at paintings and drawings, I have no artistic talent whatsoever. Just ask my Sunday School students -- I am known for silly stick-figures.
I have to admit that drawing and painting is something I've always wished I could do. When I think about perspective, I actually envy artists. The ability to paint a picture in such a way that actually changes the way the eye will view it... I think that is an amazing ability. I wish I could pick up a pencil and do that... I wish I could change perspective not just on paper, but in life.
Because really... it's all about your perspective isn't it? Whether you choose to count your hardships or count your blessings, whether the glass is half full or half empty, your own personal vista of the world and life around you. Vista... I think that will be my word for 2013.
There is a God who loves me...
 |
| Grace like rain ... I can dance in it, I can play in it, I am constantly washed with it.. Hallelujah! |
I have an unconditionally loving partnership with the world's best husband...
I have a small, tight circle of friends who support me even in my darkest hours...
I have a roof over my head, a warm blanket to hide under at night, and food on my table...
I have a job in this crazy economy and a generous employer who God has used to supply all my needs...
I have coffee... every day.... yes, it is a big deal.
I have a happy, healthy little boy who is home safe...
 | |
| I simply cannot find the strength to write an entire blog post about this, but when reading about the devastating loss of 20 BABIES in Connecticut this week, I find it hard to complain about any of my own hardships. This weekend I got to ride the carousel with my baby. He lit up as soon as he saw the thing... he was so happy! After his ride he got a stamp on his hand of a horse and even now (days later) he runs up to show it to me with pride. What a blessing that I am able to enjoy my sweet, innocent, perfect little baby. My heart is heavy and I am praying for those parents who have had to say goodbye to their babies. |
Even as I face some of the hardest times I've ever had to, as I cry and try to pick up the pieces of so much brokenness, I simply cannot change my perspective..
My perspective... my vista... life is pretty blessed... pretty full... pretty amazing and I won't stop feeling grateful for it. Through it all, I am glad to have some perspective because there are so many reasons to smile.
XO,
Friday, December 14, 2012
Impossible Layers
Have you ever gotten to the point where sadness constantly lingers and your heart aches but you can't pinpoint exactly why? I'll tell you why... it's the layers...
And when I say layers, I mean the events, the words, the actions that hurt and were then buried over time... in hopes that they would go away but they don't. They build, one on top of the other like the sedimentation of rock and minerals at the earth's surface. The result is a strong, sturdy bed of rock that although looks and feels like one solid piece... was actually built in layers.
Impossible layers... layers that have come together so well and you can't figure out how to break them apart. Layers that overwhelm and confuse you to the point where it just doesn't feel worth it to get out of bed in the morning. Sadness is all about the layers.
I was reading the bible this morning because these layers are just impossible. The only thing that has a fighting chance of penetrating them are the very words of God himself. The words that are quick, powerful, sharper than a two-edged sword that pierces into the dividing asunder of the soul and spirit... piercing...the very thought of that piercing is like a rope slowly being lowered into a hole of blackness. That powerful, sharp piercing that can make it through even the most impossible of layers.
Maybe they aren't so impossible after all...
Matthew 19:26 - Jesus looked at them and said, “With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible."
And when I say layers, I mean the events, the words, the actions that hurt and were then buried over time... in hopes that they would go away but they don't. They build, one on top of the other like the sedimentation of rock and minerals at the earth's surface. The result is a strong, sturdy bed of rock that although looks and feels like one solid piece... was actually built in layers.
Impossible layers... layers that have come together so well and you can't figure out how to break them apart. Layers that overwhelm and confuse you to the point where it just doesn't feel worth it to get out of bed in the morning. Sadness is all about the layers.
I was reading the bible this morning because these layers are just impossible. The only thing that has a fighting chance of penetrating them are the very words of God himself. The words that are quick, powerful, sharper than a two-edged sword that pierces into the dividing asunder of the soul and spirit... piercing...the very thought of that piercing is like a rope slowly being lowered into a hole of blackness. That powerful, sharp piercing that can make it through even the most impossible of layers.
Maybe they aren't so impossible after all...
Matthew 19:26 - Jesus looked at them and said, “With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible."
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