Be still and know that I am Mom

     All the boys who live in this house were sleeping; I was trying to be quiet, walking around them swiftly while cleaning the house and finishing laundry; soon it would be time to get ready for mid-week service at Church, and for some odd reason, instead of using that quiet time to relax, read or simply enjoy, I was busy, not only with my housework, but also in my mind.

     In one of the trips back from the basement bringing laundry, I was welcomed into the living room by a foul smell; I mean, it almost knocked me backwards; the air was thick in there; I kept walking and dismissed it as one of those things my boys are good at: farting.

     I finished putting away the clothes and sat down for a little facebook time; time flew by and now it was time to get the kids going; Nathan was already up so I gently sat next to Danny, who was sleeping on the couch, and gently rubbed his back while softly speaking his name prompting him to wake up and get ready for Church.

     Suddenly the memories of the foul smell of earlier became a reality; memories of the way he was crying before nap time complaining of stomach ache; memories of how I had taken time out of my busyness to rub his belly; memories of how he had fallen asleep while I massaged his stomach.......and memories of that nasty smell again.

     I was immediately overwhelmed by the thought of what lay ahead for me.

     I knew I was getting into a messy situation.

     I begged my other self to remain gentle and treat the little tyke with dignity, love and respect; I mean, is not like he decided he was going to make my day a little more miserable by soiling his pants; obviously he was sick before nap time, and the reason for his malady had come rushing out sometime during his time in dreamland.

     I took a deep breath, then quickly realized that was a mistake; I shook my head and prompted him to get up and walk with me to the bathroom; he was still half asleep; somewhere in his stupor he felt something was not right and he opened his eyes wide, while looking at me, fully expecting to be scolded for such inconsiderate action.

     I'm convinced he expected the worse from me, because when he realized I was talking to him with the sweetest voice I could muster, he gently rubbed my face and with the sweetest voice that could ever come from the mouth of a four year old he said "thank you, mommy".

     I smiled at him, trying to hide my gaging reflexes. Then I went back to the issue at hand, trying to figure out the best way to take his pants off without making the mess even bigger. He must have read my facial expression, and suddenly he tried to "help" me clean the mess; he hurriedly tried to pull his pants down and then his underwear; before I could say peep the mess had rubbed all over his legs; he looked at me and I could tell he was proud for helping me; I look down and quickly realized that the mess had expanded to the legs, the floor and, had I not been careful, to my own legs and arms.

     In a split second I realized that every time my kids spill their drink, I always scold them into cleaning it for themselves; lately I don't even have to do that; even Aaron runs to the kitchen and brings a towel and starts cleaning the carpet; is just second nature to all of us; you spill something, you clean it.

     I knew that was exactly what little Danny was trying to do: clean up his own mess. But this time I did not want his help; this time all I wanted him to do was to freeze and don't move until I was done; I could tell the dam of emotions inside me was ready to burst open; now I not only had a child to clean, but the bathroom floor too.

     Only by God's grace I was able to remain calm; or it could be the fact that I know well enough not to be the nastiest person alive right before going to Church; I mean, I've done it many times and it does not feel good at all, sitting in Church, trying to sing, knowing that just a moment ago I fell as low as I could for that day and mistreated the children God placed under my care.

     Back to reality.

     As calm as I could I told Danny to stop moving; he was already reaching for toilet paper to help me clean the floor; as calm as I could I told him that I was going to take care of everything, all he had to do was to stand still and let me work.

     In my head I was screaming "Be still and know that I am mom".

     Seriously.

     With patience and love many things can be accomplished. After a little while the only thing that was left from the messy episode, was the memories; I'm sure I will laugh about it some day; some day far, far away.

     Fast forward two days.

     Today is Friday and I am here, sitting alone in a quiet house; I feel such an emptiness inside, such turmoil; I feel overwhelmed by a sea of emotions; my mind rushes back and forth in time, regretting the past, fearful of the future, unsure about the present. 

     There are so many ways in which I have let life overwhelm me, crush me under its weight; there are many things I should have done and I didn't; there are many things that could improve, if only I commit myself to them; there are many things I could do better, but choose not to, all the while the list of excuses for my lack of action is getting ridiculously long.

     I quickly realized I'm in a mess of my own making and hurriedly tried to come up with answers, with action plans, with schedules, with options. There was a great whirlwind in my mind and heart. I felt dizzy, and afraid. I yelled at myself. "C'mon Nilda....how long are you going to keep this up???? Get ahold of yourself!!!!! You are thirty-five-freaking-years-old!!!!!! Act your age!!!!!!@#$%#$#%^^&"

     In the midst of my sobbing I remembered a few words that I keep forgetting, despite the self promises I make never to forget again.

"Be still and know that I AM God"

     I grabbed onto those words as hard as a window washer grabs his harness while working on the 70th floor of a New York skyscraper; I mean, I don't even know if there are buildings that high, but if I was a window washer and had to go up that high, you bet I would hold on to that rope as hard as my little hands could; you would too.

     So there I was, almost like little Danny in the bathroom, who was comforted by the fact that mommy was so gently cleaning up his mess, because, after all, she is mommy, and if someone is a master at cleaning messes in this house, mommy is.

     And here I was, looking all around me and seeing a mess, or looking down from the 70th floor of a skyscraper, fearful of the fall, holding onto those life-giving words with all my might.

"Be still and know that I am God"

     And I'm happy to report that, after hanging onto His words for awhile, the storm ceased; the winds calmed down; the thunder was silenced; and there was great peace.

     So, just in case you find yourself in the middle of a storm, I want to share the words that brought me solace:

He alone is my rock and my salvation; 

he is my fortress, I will never be shaken.

Psalm 62:2

So do not fear, for I am with you; 

do not be dismayed, for I am your God. 

I will strenghten you and help you; 

I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

Isaiah 41:10

Since you are my rock and my fortress,

 for the sake of your name lead me and guide me.

Psalm 31:3

The Lord is my rock , my fortress and my deliverer; 

my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge. 

He is my shield and the horn 

of my salvation, my stronghold.

Psalms 18:2

He who fears the Lord has a secure fortress, 

and for his children it will be a refuge.

Psalm 14:26

God is our refuge and strength, 

an ever present help in trouble. 

Therefore we will not fear; 

though the earth give way 

and the mountains fall 

into the heart of the sea, 

though its waters roar 

and foam and the mountains 

quake with their surging.

Psalm 46:1-3

But above all, I suggest you stop doing what you are doing, and listen to God whishper:

"Be still and know that I am God"

     I can assure you, He can handle a lot more that just a cleaning job.

Encourage one another.

Keep moving forward.

Love,

Nilda

     

     

Pain's the word

     Man, oh man! Pain is the word of the day.

     I guess I finally realized this arthritis thing is not getting any better and it's time to place myself under a doctor's care. For almost seven years I have been waiting for things to improve, for this disease to suddenly disappear; I had hoped that one day I would wake up and be back to my younger years, when I boasted of how healthy I was; when I had energy to spare; when I was adventurous and ready to go, always curious, trying to find new things to do and new things to learn.

     Nowadays every thing seems to be an uphill battle. But the strongest battle is in my mind. It takes all I have to keep believing in healing and in a loving God who watches over me and cares for me; when I'm in pain and every little thing to do turns into a full blown project due to the pain and stiffness, when caring for my little boys -even picking up the youngest- causes excruciating pain, and my arms and knees threaten to give in under me every step I take, it's easy to wonder "what could possible be the purpose for this?".

     I know God uses everything for good for those who love Him, but what good could possibly come out of being constantly in pain, challenged at every step? 

     I'm reminded of Jesus and his encounter with a leper; I'm reminded of the words spoken by the leper "if you want, you can cleanse me". He knew Jesus could cleanse him, but would He want to?

     I have no doubt that God can heal me; He created me; He knows me; He knows my body; a simple thought from Him, a whisper even, a word, and all this world of pain and suffering could disappear. Yet He remains silent.

     I know He can heal me; but does He wants to?

     There are days when the weight of all I have to do and all that needs to be done in order to care properly for three little boys and a husband brings out a prayer, out of the deepest places of my innermost being, "if you want, you can cleanse me". But most days the request goes unanswered.

     Even thinking about going under a doctor's care was a difficult decision; I felt like I was saying "well, since you won't heal me, I'm going to look for healing somewhere else".

     Yet I know that my healing can only come from Him; yes, a doctor may bring some sort of relief, thru medication or any other intervention, but real healing, complete healing can only come from Him, and for reasons unknown to me, He chooses to wait.

     I'm reminded of a song we used to sing many, many years ago in Sunday School; it said something like "if I'm missing my voice I'll praise Him with my hands; if I'm missing my hands, I'll praise him with my arms; if I'm missing my arms, I'll praise Him with my legs; if I'm missing my legs I'll praise Him with my soul". And after all that's exactly where I am; no matter what, I'll still praise Him. Whether He heals me or not I'll praise Him.

     I only ask for the strength to go on. One day at a time.

Morning Prayer

When little things would irk me, and I grow

impatient with my dear ones, make me know

how in a moment joy con take its flight

and happiness be quenched in endless night.

Keep this thought with me all the livelong day

that I may guard the harsh words I might say

when I would fret and grumble, fiery hot,

at trifles that tomorrow are forgot-

let me remember, Lord, how it would be

if these, my loved ones, were not here with me.

Author Unknown.

Words I wish I wrote

THE MOST VITAL THING IN LIFE

When you feel like saying something

that you know you will regret,

or keenly feel an insult

not quite easy to forget,

that's the time to curb resentment

and maintain a mental peace,

for when your mind is tranquil

all your ill-thoughts simply cease.

It is easy to be angry

when defrauded or defied,

to be peeved and disappointed

if your wishes are denied;

but to win a worthwhile battle

over selfishness and spite,

you must learn to keep strict silence 

though you know you're on the right.

So keep your mental balance

when confronted by a foe,

be it enemy in ambush,

or some danger that you know.

If you are poised and tranquil

when all around is strife,

be assured that you have mastered

the most vital thing in life.

GRENVILLE KLEISER

A tranquil heart is life to the body,

but passion is rottenness to the bones.

Proverbs 14:30

     I rolled over in bed and felt the pain; everywhere. From my shoulders to my feet, there was pain. I wondered how I would go thru the day like that; how would I manage to care for the little guys if I could hardly move. Somehow it didn't seem fair. Tears begun to flow from my eyes, rolling down and hitting my pillow, making the peculiar pit-pat noise of rain.

     It was still dark outside; everything was quiet, except my mind, except my heart.

     I have prayed for healing so many times; others have prayed over me too; why then should I still suffer? for what purpose? My heart turned to God and I spoke to Him as I would to anyone else; I was angry. I know He can heal me; the only question left is does He wants to.

     I got out of bed and went to the living room; thoughts begun to flood my head; questions, concerns, doubt, confusion; I was so overwhelmed by the time I turned to the place I always turn to when the path gets tough: the Bible.

     I stumbled upon a verse on proverbs: a tranquil heart is life to the body, but passion is rottenness to the bones.

     A brutally honest look at my life would render the verdict that I am seldom at peace; even when the outside looks it, the inside is at war. The mind never stops moving. It travels back and forth thru the passages of time, worrying about a future that does not belong to me, regretting a past that is long gone, therefore non-existent, as there is nothing anyone can do to change it, not even God himself.

     A tranquil heart is life to the body.

     My mind begun to wonder if by any chance all this bodily pain could be a direct result of the turmoil inside; if my mind was at war, wouldn't it just make perfect sense that my body was showing the signs of the wounds inflicted by the enemy? The remedy sounded just too simple: a tranquil heart.

     I closed my eyes thinking to myself "ok heart, get quiet", but quickly realized that it was completely out of my hands; there is nothing I can really do to quiet my own heart, at least not just that easily; it has been years of training the mind and the heart to lean toward the dreadful, the what if's, the negative. I needed help from above to teach my heart to be at peace, to rest knowing that God is all powerful, big enough to take care of us, loving enough to work all things for good. 

     Peace. 

    I wondered what that looked like, felt like. I have no real recollection of what that really means or feels or looks like. As far back as I have memory, all I remember is turmoil. Yelling. Slamming of doors. Hurting words. A dreadful feeling in the air; an unsettling environment around the family meals, never knowing what would trigger the next attack or where I could run for cover; or even if I would be able to run for cover at all; I could be the next escape goat and endure not only the verbal attack but also the physical attack.

     There I was again, stuck in the past. See, it comes so easily.

     Somewhere in the midst of my tears I remember The Prince of Peace and  His invitation to "come to me all who are weary and heavy-ladden, and I will give you rest". With a broken heart and a wounded spirit I knelt before Him and waited until the strength to go on filled me once again. If you ever heard the words "My Grace is enough" wishpered to your heart  in the quietness of the early morning, then you know how thankful one can be for the amazing gift of Grace.

     And for the first time in a long time, my heart was truly at rest. Despite the pain.

     

Wherever you are....be there.

     It was a nice class; the teacher was motivating, the class was interesting, the surroundings comfortable; but somehow, despite my best efforts to pay attention, to concentrate, to absorb as much as I could, my mind wasn't there. I kept realizing every few minutes that I had no idea what this guy had said, as I had been too busy planning ahead for the things I had to do next, making mental lists of the things I needed, remembering what someone has said to me and how I finally got the perfect answer, the one the would have given me the upper hand.

     And suddenly, as if arranged by magic, my mind cleared for a brief second so I could hear these words: wherever you are...be there.

     What? What do you mean "be there"? Aren't I here? I showed up, didn't I? I'm sitting here, looking at you, I make sure I have a smile on my face, I look at you directly, I nod once in awhile in agreement; what do you mean "be there"? I am here!

     But was I? Could I honestly say that I heard every word and truly understood the topic? Could I honestly say that I was there and I didn't miss a thing? That would be a big, fat NO.

     Yet this was an all too familiar territory for me; after all, when was the last time I was fully and completely and entirely in on place? I pride myself with being a multitasker, I can accomplish more when doing a few things at the same time, even if such things involve holding a crying child that needs comforting while boiling some water for the noodles and stirring the tomato sauce. I mean, that's not only dangerous...it's VERY dangerous. And add to that the fact that while my hands and arms are busy, my head is even busier, clouded with thoughts of self pity, and whining and complaining.

     So to put it simply, I'm not only always multitasking, I'm always over thinking. Always.

     No wonder peace and contentment are a rare commodity for me these days.

     So that little phrase really did start something inside me. How much have I really missed in life just because I was too busy planning life? How many little smiles from the tykes have I missed, or disregarded as unimportant, because I was too busy formulating a plan B,  just in case plan A didn't pan out?

     Being brutally honest with myself, I realized that most of the time I'm in a hurry, too busy to really be present with my kids, to really care for their requests, to really pay attention to their stories, to really hug them, and really kiss them.

     Every emptynester I know keeps telling me that these years go by so quickly; they all say time flies and before you know they're graduating; they all encourage me (sometimes it feels like they're begging me) to enjoy these years, to treasure them, to soak them up, to take tons of pictures and video, to ingrain the cute and cuddly moments  in my memory, because they won't last. They say soon they will want to pull away from me, be more independent; they say they might want to be with their friends and discover life on their own. They say soon, especially having boys, my hugs and kisses will join the list of gross-things-to-avoid-at-all-cost and they will not want to be hugged and kissed and smothered.

     And the thought of that really is terrifying, despite the fact that everyday I wish it was next day already; sometimes, when going thru the thickest part of mothering, meaning cleaning yet another messy diaper, wiping yet another buggery nose, cleaning yet another saggy bowl of cereal that stayed too long on the table -or long enough for Aaron to find it and dump it all over the floor- the thought of them being grown up and independent is like soft music to me ears.

     But not at that price. 

     So at least for today, I will do my best to really be here; to summon my mind, emotions and feelings back from la la land and really invest myself here at home; who knows? maybe that game of chutes and ladders Nathan has been wanting to play with me is not that bad after all.

     You know that still, small voice people keep talking about?

     Today it is telling me to bring my heart home......tomorrow can always wait.

"You are too concerned 

with what was

and what will be.

There's a saying:

Yesterday is history,

Tomorroy is a mistery,

but today is a gift.

That's why is called

'the present' ".

Master Oogway

Kung Fu Panda

"Life is what happens to you

when you are busy making other plans".

Lennon

"Therefore do not worry about tomorrow,

for tomorrow will worry about itself. 

Each day has enough trouble of its own.

Jesus

     

     

WELCOME TO MY WORLD

Yes. The title seems a little crazy.

Some of you might swear to the contrary.

Some of you might pat my back and tell me that isn't so.

Some of you don't even care.

But if someone asked me to describe my life,

at this stage,

that would pretty much sumarize it all.

Those three areas are the most important areas of my life.

* Tho love God with all my heart, and all my soul, and all my might,

and to love my neighbor, as Christ commanded.

(but try as I might, I keep missing the mark; 

there are so many things clouding my mind, 

and my soul, and my spirit, that there's little room to

accomplish such task)

* To love my husband; to truly be his help meet; 

to grow in love, dedication and devotion to him;

to treasure him as the most precious, rare and

unmistakable gift God could ever give me.

(but I'm afraid I take him for granted; daily;

I allow routine and busyness to grab hold of me,

and I neglect to nurture our friendship,

our love, our unity)

* To love and nurture the three boys God has placed under my care;

to raise them to be strong men, who love God, are friends of Jesus,

love but one woman and follow the steps of their earthy father and 

become as good fathers to their own kids,

 as their father has been to them; or even better -if that's even possible!

(but I know for sure that everyday I allow the cleaning

of the house, the laundry, the cooking, the drawer organizing,

the reading, the thinking and the philosophical search for

nothingness to pull me away from them; it's so easy to send them off 

to their imaginary plays, where they fight dragons and knights and one 

or two misplaced ninjas, all to rescue a damsel in distress,

just so I can pick my toe nails, -or finish an online argument

with someone I don't even know about something I don't even

really care for- just to prove my point.

Hence the title.

You will get a rare glimpse to the real me;

emphasis on real;

not the one that puts forth a smile,

straightens her hair, takes a deep breath

and acts like everything is under control.

No.

You'll get to see the broken one,

the insecure one, the tired one,

the almost-always-at-the-brink-of-tears one.

The one that almost every night

-and sometimes early morning-

falls down,  face flat on the groud,

at the feet of The Cross, 

and begs

"have mercy on me"

and eagerly awaits 'til

The Master wishpers

"My Grace is enough"

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