Hodgepodge Ramblings…

Well, here I go again. Over the course of time since my last blog, I had many “AH HA” moments where I had a perfect subject to write about…but then…POOF…the only thing I can recall is that I once had something TO recall, but what that something was…well, fuhgeddboutit (like my wise-guy New Yorker thug speak?)

So much has been happening since the last time…not fascinating stuff, but stuff nonetheless:

  1. V had a narrow escape and thankfully did not go through with his plan to join the military. I don’t think someone with PTSD (resolving somewhat, but sometimes still an issue) should be a member of our esteemed armed forces. He had a somewhat shady military recruiter and I feel like I saved my baby from disaster. (Which leads me to wonder why the recruiter for Beau Bergdahl isn’t under fire, too much was in Bergdahl’s past to go unnoticed. Something is sketchy. But, that’s a post for someone other than me.)
  2. My husband is undergoing some alarming health concerns but is so far doing well. It’s just another layer of stress to make my days more like the Chinese curse which seems to follow me about.
  3. I got a promotion at work! I’m very happy and pleased. I have really good coworkers and am blessed that going to work each day is a joy.
  4. My church has started small group gatherings. I am part of two groups, both of them focused on books. One group is all women of various ages and we are reading “The Prodigal Son” by H. Nouwen. The other is mixed, but we are all older, and we are reading C.S. Lewis’ “The Screwtape Letters.” Both groups have intelligent, interesting and authentic members and I’m loving the camaraderie and intellectual stretch.
  5. I’m still fat.
  6. I carved out a Mama-Cave in my house. It was beautifully maintained for about 60 days, then the men in my life have sloooooooowly have turned it into a catch-all for junk. I’m quite displeased. Today I started the mucking out process…argh…I’m finding things that only needed to be put away in cupboards and drawers and yet, it was easier to dump stuff in my sanctuary and shut the door.
  7. I will never understand how the minds of men work and feel smug that I’m assuming they even have workable-minds.
  8. I love watching Fixer Upper but am finding all of Chip and Jojo’s designs are starting to look alike from episode to episode. Either that, or I’m just watching the same episode on some time-warped loop from which I cannot escape.
  9. Oh! This is something creepy and not in my happiness zone. Someone who went to school with my late-sister Nancy has begun to have weird poltergeist type happenings in her home. At the time of Nancy’s death she was helping this young woman set up her own business. (Nancy did not have a college degree but was a brilliant go-getter.) So, this woman began hearing noises, bangings, and feeling creeped out.  She very unwisely went to see a psychic who then went on to identify my sister, her cause of death, and admitted that she was the one causing shenanigans from the other world to this world to have “fun” scaring her friend. The woman wrote all of this to my brother who then shared it with us. According to this psychic, Nancy’s soul had left her body prior to her truck hitting the tree, she was filled with joy, and the afterlife was “like a vacation.” Well, there is just something so wrong with that last statement that I insisted (okay, I nagged) my brother to NOT engage in anymore psychic talk about Nancy and to instead offer prayers for the repose of her soul. How could a “good soul” find joy in frightening the living?  Psychics and their “work” just creep me out and that’s an area better left untouched, ignored and avoided.

Well, there you have it, an uneven number of mini-events from the life of this coffee-sipping (at times guzzling) Catholic.

I hope you all are well and that you have a peaceful, blessed week free from all anxiety and filled with joyful hope.

Mwah.

September 14, 1960

Sweet lil baby Me

Sweet lil baby Me

Masita - Copy

Masita at age 16

I was born that day to two parents who had moved from the Hell Mouth, away from family, and all that they knew in order to provide their children with a life that would not include migrant work. I’ll tell the story of my maternal grandparents rise and fall from poverty, to prosperity, back down to poverty on another day. But today, I’ll focus on Masita  and Chico. Young, uncertain, and leaving a life where everyone was Mexican-Catholic to the land of W.A.S.P. and prejudice.

Chico at age 18

Chico at age 18

My mom learned English at age 12. Although I could not hear it, everyone (including her) said she spoke English with a Spanish accent, her syntax and semantics were flawless but darn it, she never did get the difference between “ch” and “sh” down, and was good natured about her grandchildren exclaiming “Grandma! It’s potato CHips! NOT potato Ships!” My dad learned English at a much earlier age and speaks it flawlessly.

I was fourth born, but the third living daughter. The story of my older sister’s fatal birth is also a story for another day. There were to be a total of nine children in our family. Seven girls and the last two boys. It was a crowded, noisy household filled with silliness and dysfunction. But, in spite of all of that dysfunction there was always a sense of connectedness. A sense that if you got into trouble, there would be family right there to bail you out and make you eat crow simultaneously. Time passing has driven us further apart, rather than closer together. Too much pain, betrayal and incrimination to be healed at this late date. I had made efforts to heal the rifts in the past and came out bloodied and bruised, so I’ll not go there again.

But, as I sat  home on Monday, receiving calls from my beloved spawn, brother and from Chico, an overwhelming wave of sadness rolled over me and I’ve not been able to shake it off. Tears come and dry but the crushing pain in my chest has not lessened, so I turned to prayer and the Holy Mother seeking solace and comfort and wisdom.

Mother Teresa Prayer to MaryIn my prayer, which was swiped from Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta, it was revealed to me the cause of my sadness. I no longer have a life of connectedness. At this time, with the great difficulties in my marriage, my children leaving the faith and pursuing personal decisions which break my heart, I find that I don’t have a sense of me, a sense of this who I am and this is my tribe.  I know I am loved. I know I have two IRL friends whom I can count on without reservation as well as very nice acquaintances who are happy to socialize. But, in all of this I feel like my ship has become unmoored and I am alone and isolated.

Thankfully, at this time my connection to Christ and the Blessed Mother is blossoming. My prayer life is rich, and my sense of knowing God is greater than ever. But, as I go through my day and my familiar path my heart is aching with a loneliness and sense of isolation which is crushing.

I wish I knew why.