Tomorrow it will be two weeks since I've arrived to California, my new home for the next three years. Despite constant affirmations from God that I am exactly where I need to be, and reminders that the Great Companion of Companions is journeying with me, I found myself in moments of anxiety. I lay in my bed a few nights ago allowing insecurities invade my mind, "What am I doing? I belong working with the people directly, not with books again." While in my heart peace assures me that I've listened and followed.
This past week I've allowed illusions to cause anguish within me and today as we prayed our Love's prayer in mass I listened to the familiar words coming out of the priests mouth...
"...grant us peace in our day. In your mercy... protect us from all anxiety."
The prayer carries a wisdom deep within, acknowledging our own vulnerability to anxiety and how much we need Our Comforter to protect us from it and grant us peace. Only in our peace will we be able to fully open and allow ourselves to dance with the Dancer of all dances and delight creating life in that spirit.
May you and I, both, replace our illusions for the peace that we are granted.
With you,
Luisely
Showing posts with label Beginning the journey. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Beginning the journey. Show all posts
Monday, September 5, 2011
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
after despair
I fell asleep on the grass, read a book about writing, found a recipe while I was at it, and yet I failed to write to you. So here is my attempt to no longer procrastinate my letter to you. A letter that will attempt to transmit what I’ve lived since my arrival to the States.
Four months ago, I dreamed with Christy’s baby. In the dream, I visited Christy and began speaking to the baby in her womb introducing myself as Tia Luisely. Christy’s voice stimulated the baby to dance in her womb. The baby’s foot poked out and subtly a light from inside the womb made the womb translucent. The movements became clear to me. Christy pointed out the baby’s organs, and I marveled at the majesty of it all. I could see all the baby’s movements, the fragile fingers, the closed eyes (the way they should be at 5 months). The baby moved and I saw that the chin mirrored that of his uncles’, his eye shape was that of his fathers, and his nose resembled Christy’s. I looked up to Christy in the dream and told her the baby she carried was a boy.
Christy was 39 weeks pregnant when she and her husband picked me up from the executive private airport in Boca on the 3rd. I hugged her and kissed her belly feeling myself grasp onto the life she held within. For the week that followed I accompanied her to see the midwife, watched movies on natural birthing *, read articles and chapters in books about how to best accompany her and “what to expect,” along with assisting with household chores and errands. We went on walks, took naps, studied Dunstan’s Baby Language and prepared the home’s last details for the baby’s arrival.
On the night of the 13th, Christy decided to kidnap her husband and go out for the night. At 3:30am, the couple stood next to my bed while Christy whispered, “I’m in labor.” -She woke me from a dream where I saw the baby fresh out of the womb in a hospital, and studied his eyes, his cheeks, his hair, and toes. – We decided to try to rest as much as possible before the contractions intensified.
A few hours later, I prepared breakfast for her and packed the car with everything prepared for the occasion. We went to her parents’ house where her sisters gathered along with her mother. We walked up and down the street breathing through contractions as she leaned on her husband. The contractions escalated, and I drove us to the birthing center where the midwife and her assistants were waiting.
Christy radiated with elegance while breathing through each contraction, concentrating and enduring. We walked up stairs two by two; she rocked back and forth on the rocking chair and swayed side to side leaning on us. As she hung her arms around my neck and swayed with me my legs trembled holding her up. I could feel her belly on mine, the baby’s movements and her womb contracting. We breathed together and swayed together. Life was coming forth. Christy clung to her mother who tried to carry her weight, as I held her mother up massaging her back one of Christy’s sisters rubbed mine, a moment of Divine Grace. A cycle of women breathing and accompanying another, one woman held the other in attempts to bear the weight of the one that bore the weight no one could bear for her.
Christy and the baby went on for 27 hours, breathing through each contraction with the support of all of us and without the assistance of medications. The midwife leaned over to both Christy and her husband and said, “You are suffering and tired, the baby’s head is pushing on your pelvic bone and not through your canal. We can continue here if you’d like, or we can go to the hospital now.” In minutes we were out of the birthing center and in the hospital. In the hospital, tests were run. Christy’s platelets were remarkably low and her liver inflamed. Soon the nurses prepared Christy for an emergency C-section where she would go under general anesthesia, the complete opposite of what she planned.
On November 15th at 7:59am Ian Diego Paredes felt the cold hospital air, stretched his arms and legs without boundaries, and a few hours later felt his mother’s warm body from outside and filled his belly with her warm milk.
The experience humbled me and beckoned me to delve within to find the wisdom ancestors passed down to me through intuition. Ian means “God is gracious.”
For the week that followed, I tended to and accompanied Christy and the baby in the hospital and then in her home as her body healed and Ian’s discovered more of Earth and her beauties. The bond between Ian and Christy, Christy’s yearning love for her husband, my understanding of the baby and my body’s natural response to the baby bewilders me.
On the 23rd, I left, allowing the family to carry on as they will and should. While saying farewell to Ian, he opened his deep blue eyes and let them dive into mine allowing my soul to gaze into his and his to bless mine.
Living this sacred time with Christy’s family gave me the life and hope I needed after leaving Haiti. It was a reminder that there is life after pain, there is hope after despair, and that we are always given what we need, it is up to us to open our eyes and see.
With you,
Luisely
P.S.: I would like to invite anyone who accompanied me in Haiti, who continues accompanying me now in the Miami area to dinner on December 8th at 6pm. It’s a simple get together to answer any questions and a form of thanksgiving our union. If you’d like you can bring a dish to share, anything your heart desires. We will be meeting at Andres Novela’s residence (thank you to him and his familyJ) his address is 5162 NW 114th Ct. Doral, FL 33178. The complex is called Doral Landings West. If more than one of us shows up parking may not be that splendid, but it’s okay, we’ll find locations.
*I recommend watching The Business of Being Born.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
the journey continues
I am in Florida now. God's gentle way of transitioning me from Jean Rabel to South Florida is through a little boy in my college roommate's womb. That little one fills my heart with hope and new life in such a perfect way after Haiti and my farewell from all those I left. I'm tending to my dear friend in her 40th week of pregnancy. The stories of my journey here: my farewells, cholera, the hurricane, the baby's birth and all the stories to come will be posted. I will continue writing and will continue being with you. I have no internet access for now (slightly ironic), but will go posting as the opportunities arise.
With you,
Luisely
With you,
Luisely
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
The Little Prince and the Fox
“What does tamed mean?”
“It’s something that’s been too often neglected. It means ‘to create ties’…”
“To create ties?”
“That’s right,” the fox said. “For me you’re only a little boy just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you have no need of me either. For you I’m only a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, we’ll need each other. You’ll be the only boy in the world for me. I’ll be the only fox in the world for you…”
“…if you tame me, my life will be filled with sunshine. I’ll know the sound of footsteps that will be different from all the rest. Other footsteps send me back underground. Yours will call me out of my burrow like music. And then, look! You see the wheat fields over there? I don’t eat bread. For me wheat is of no use whatever. Wheat fields say nothing to me. Which is sad. But you have hair the color of gold. So it will be wonderful, once you’ve tamed me! The wheat, which is golden, will remind me of you. And I’ll love the sound of the wind in the wheat…”
That was how the little prince tamed the fox. And when the time to leave was near:
“Ah!” the fox said. “I shall weep.”
…
“Then you get nothing out of it?”
“I get something,” the fox said, “because of the color of the wheat.”
…
“People have forgotten this truth,” the fox said. “But you mustn’t forget it. You become responsible forever for what you’ve tamed…”
-an excerpt from Antoine De Saint-Exupery’s The Little Prince
“You do things so that we’ll miss you,” Fabio repeats as the time gets closer.
I leave in a week.
The ties created leave me enriched, leaving me even more in love with all that surrounds me. And now my time to leave is near, Ah! I shall weep.
Now the sound of a gust of wind through the banana tree leaves, the smell of charcoal with the wet Earth, the tune of Little Richie’s “I feel good…”, and a certain rhythm of the drums send my heart soaring back to those it is tied to.
And I mustn’t forget that I have become responsible forever for what I’ve tamed…
With you,
Luisely
“It’s something that’s been too often neglected. It means ‘to create ties’…”
“To create ties?”
“That’s right,” the fox said. “For me you’re only a little boy just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you have no need of me either. For you I’m only a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, we’ll need each other. You’ll be the only boy in the world for me. I’ll be the only fox in the world for you…”
“…if you tame me, my life will be filled with sunshine. I’ll know the sound of footsteps that will be different from all the rest. Other footsteps send me back underground. Yours will call me out of my burrow like music. And then, look! You see the wheat fields over there? I don’t eat bread. For me wheat is of no use whatever. Wheat fields say nothing to me. Which is sad. But you have hair the color of gold. So it will be wonderful, once you’ve tamed me! The wheat, which is golden, will remind me of you. And I’ll love the sound of the wind in the wheat…”
That was how the little prince tamed the fox. And when the time to leave was near:
“Ah!” the fox said. “I shall weep.”
…
“Then you get nothing out of it?”
“I get something,” the fox said, “because of the color of the wheat.”
…
“People have forgotten this truth,” the fox said. “But you mustn’t forget it. You become responsible forever for what you’ve tamed…”
-an excerpt from Antoine De Saint-Exupery’s The Little Prince
“You do things so that we’ll miss you,” Fabio repeats as the time gets closer.
I leave in a week.
The ties created leave me enriched, leaving me even more in love with all that surrounds me. And now my time to leave is near, Ah! I shall weep.
Now the sound of a gust of wind through the banana tree leaves, the smell of charcoal with the wet Earth, the tune of Little Richie’s “I feel good…”, and a certain rhythm of the drums send my heart soaring back to those it is tied to.
And I mustn’t forget that I have become responsible forever for what I’ve tamed…
With you,
Luisely
Monday, July 19, 2010
a promised story
I promised two ladies in my parish back home I would share this story, so although it may appear to be a random entry, it is the story about the ‘beginning’ of my journey here.
I think that October of 2009 is a good place to start. I came back from Joa~o Pessoa, Brazil almost a year ago, July 2009. I left Brazil because I could not extend my visa any longer. I imagined God knew why. The first week of August I began an Earth Literacy program in Genesis Farm in Blairstown, New Jersey. My plan was to stay after the program as an intern for at least nine months. The program augmented and took my relationship with the Divine, and consequently the world, to an even more intimate level. By October, I saw that my time at Genesis Farm should come to an end for now and following my grandmother's death I headed back to Florida. The months that followed were intense. My plans to study in India were changed due to the lack of communication from the institution near Nepal. So there I was, living at home (something I hadn’t done since I was 17) for an indefinite time without a plan. In the meantime, I lived. Exploring the present, starting projects (finishing some and abandoning others), dancing, singing, accompanying my family and those around me in their journey, while being accompanied in mine. The months were rich, as all are.
In the beginning of November or the end of October, I started looking for opportunities that spoke to me. I looked into different Catholic Workers, applied to continue my master’s in California, and searched for other mission opportunities. I was open. Three days after I had explored CRS’s website checking what they had to offer, I received an email from a friend, telling me about a position at CRS that could be perfect for me, if I wanted it. I decided after a week that sending my resume and applying was a good idea. As I sent the application I told God, “If it is not for me, take it from me, give it to someone else.” By December 31st, 2009 I knew I received the job as Area Relationship Manager for the SE region office of CRS US Operations. The position and the people working with me were phenomenal. The position asked for a person with 10 years experience and there I was, an employee that 10 years ago was only 13. The respect and the dignity they treated me with showed that the way CRS treated their employees was true to what they preached about the Catholic Social Teachings.
In me, however, there was an air of inquietude, to say the least. I decided to push that aside, saying, “Luisely, it’s your first salary paying job; of course you may not feel thrilled at first.” Something I had already learned was dangerous.
I immediately started traveling. The second day on the job, I was already in a conference in Orlando, where I was soon to move. Apartment searching was in the agenda, among other simple errands to that effect. After the first day of the conference, after a delightful and genuine meal with a coworker and a friend, I went to my hotel room and received a call from a dear friend. His simple, “Happy new year! How’s the new job going?” was followed by silence. “Oh, you’re going to start bawling aren’t you?” He was right. The tears started strolling down. I didn’t expect the phone call to head this direction, or my night, or my life for that matter. “I don’t feel peace,” I began. Explanations and tears and questions and confusion followed. He listened and asked, “What do you want? What do you see yourself doing?” The first thing that came to my mind was Haiti and it shocked me. “Haiti,” I said, “I see myself in Haiti with the Colombian nuns.” And there it began.
After hanging up with him, I called my Papi; a combination of the time (it was around one in the morning), my stuffed nose, and lack of breath from the crying I’m sure he strained on the other line to understand my sobs. His advice was to take one day at a time, to give the job at least a week, and then to speak with someone in the job about my worries. Papi helped me calm down a bit and realize that at that time I wasn’t necessarily going to resolve much, especially since I had to work in the morning. I hung up and had a few words with our Genius Creator, “Look Diosito, from the very beginning I told you to take the job away from me if it wasn’t for me and now I feel this. This tremendous inquietude. Make it clear. You were the one who got me into this. Make it clear to me before I head to Atlanta what You want me to do.” I closed my swollen eyes, opened my mouth to breath, and went to sleep.
God decorated the following days with transparent signs that Haiti was where I was supposed to be. Three days later little doubt was left in me. CRS, as amazing, and as perfect as it seemed to be for me was to be left for Haiti. The day before flying to the SE office in Atlanta to speak with my boss and coworkers about my decision, I described to a friend on the phone the events of the past week and the clear signs provided for me. When I hung up the phone, I felt it. I felt what I imagine Elizabeth felt when her cousin walked in (I’ve never been pregnant so I know it’s a stretch, but that’s what I felt) I felt the a jump of joy in me. The certitude of the Holy Spirit. I felt peace.
The next day was a Tuesday. I arrived to the SE office, shared lunch with my coworkers and asked my boss for a talk. There I sat in front of her tender eyes explaining, my call to another place, leaving her with a position left open after months of searching for the right person and so much more. She listened and expressed her side. She respected me, admiring me for following the Holy Spirit in the way that I did, and saying, “the works of the Spirit are works of the Spirit.” I was ready for her to spit and curse at me, calling me an immature college graduate that did not know what she wanted. The conversation culminated with a prayer and out I went to explain the story to my new coworkers. They listened in shock with slight sadness and disappointment on their faces, while saying that they understood that where God leads, one must follow. My boss went to her office to call the headquarters in Baltimore to see what steps to take while I went to speak with another coworker. After a little time, my boss came out saying, “How’s your French?” Feeling guilty and wanting to help in any way I could, I answered, “I’ll translate anything you need.” “No, they’re offering you another job.” I laughed. “They are willing to transfer you to Haiti to be head of HIV/AIDS in Haiti." I didn’t understand. “What God! Make up Your mind. What shenanigans is this!”
I laughed a little more and she asked me if she should send the resume to them for the job opening in Haiti. I looked at the coworker I had been conversing with who reminded me, “Luisely, it still won’t be mission, it still is CRS. I would pray.” My boss looked at me and asked, “You want to go to the cathedral and pray?” Any getaway to spend a little time with this exciting God of ours was more than welcome. She called a friend that worked in the cathedral and walked me over to the side doors which were opened for me to go into the seemingly empty edifice. There I sat, laughed, danced, and spoke out loud. There I was, quitting an outstanding job because I felt a deep and sudden call to Haiti, and there they were, asking for my resume to transfer me instead of my letter of resignation. I decided to not worry and just let the one who got me into all of this to guide me. A coworker picked me up from the cathedral and drove me to her home where she welcomed me for the remainder of my time in Atlanta. As we sat by her chimney sipping tea recounting the direct signs and how clear Haiti was in my heart, I received a text from a friend saying, “Pray for Haiti.” I asked her if we could turn on the news, and to our dismay saw the catastrophe. The earthquake had shook Haiti on our drive home from the cathedral.
An array of emotions hard to describe ran through me as I heard the news anchors trying to make out headlines from the unknown. That night I slept little and prayed much. The next day, the CRS office hummed with commotion. The telephones rang incessantly, the news stations visited for interviews, each one of us with a task to inform the dioceses in all the South East US about how and where to direct aid and CRS’s role in all of that. Following lunch, I deciphered it an appropriate time if ever, to approach my angelic and overwhelmed boss. I walked into her office between phone calls and asked if I should write my letter of resignation. She looked at me and said, “Luisely, dear, we haven’t contacted all our employees in Haiti and we are no longer looking to fill that position. Now, we are looking for people with at least one year experience in disaster relief.” I held her hand, thanked her and left. By 6pm, I was back in Florida.
The welcome home was full of confusion. I left a week earlier with a steady, well-paying job, with benefits, that went perfectly with what I had studied, my experience, and my passions, and in less than a week was back at home, again, without a set plan and without knowing for how long. I dedicated myself to listen to God in everything and to live. Submersed in the present. I danced, took voice lessons, did cross fit, deepened relationships, practiced my French, went on retreats and searched to find where God wanted me in Haiti. All the while accompanying my family and those around me in their journey, while being accompanied in mine. The months were rich, as all are.
So that’s the story. That’s how I knew. That seems to be the way God is, at least with me. Guiding me in every step in creative and treacherously delightful ways.
With you,
Luisely
I think that October of 2009 is a good place to start. I came back from Joa~o Pessoa, Brazil almost a year ago, July 2009. I left Brazil because I could not extend my visa any longer. I imagined God knew why. The first week of August I began an Earth Literacy program in Genesis Farm in Blairstown, New Jersey. My plan was to stay after the program as an intern for at least nine months. The program augmented and took my relationship with the Divine, and consequently the world, to an even more intimate level. By October, I saw that my time at Genesis Farm should come to an end for now and following my grandmother's death I headed back to Florida. The months that followed were intense. My plans to study in India were changed due to the lack of communication from the institution near Nepal. So there I was, living at home (something I hadn’t done since I was 17) for an indefinite time without a plan. In the meantime, I lived. Exploring the present, starting projects (finishing some and abandoning others), dancing, singing, accompanying my family and those around me in their journey, while being accompanied in mine. The months were rich, as all are.
In the beginning of November or the end of October, I started looking for opportunities that spoke to me. I looked into different Catholic Workers, applied to continue my master’s in California, and searched for other mission opportunities. I was open. Three days after I had explored CRS’s website checking what they had to offer, I received an email from a friend, telling me about a position at CRS that could be perfect for me, if I wanted it. I decided after a week that sending my resume and applying was a good idea. As I sent the application I told God, “If it is not for me, take it from me, give it to someone else.” By December 31st, 2009 I knew I received the job as Area Relationship Manager for the SE region office of CRS US Operations. The position and the people working with me were phenomenal. The position asked for a person with 10 years experience and there I was, an employee that 10 years ago was only 13. The respect and the dignity they treated me with showed that the way CRS treated their employees was true to what they preached about the Catholic Social Teachings.
In me, however, there was an air of inquietude, to say the least. I decided to push that aside, saying, “Luisely, it’s your first salary paying job; of course you may not feel thrilled at first.” Something I had already learned was dangerous.
I immediately started traveling. The second day on the job, I was already in a conference in Orlando, where I was soon to move. Apartment searching was in the agenda, among other simple errands to that effect. After the first day of the conference, after a delightful and genuine meal with a coworker and a friend, I went to my hotel room and received a call from a dear friend. His simple, “Happy new year! How’s the new job going?” was followed by silence. “Oh, you’re going to start bawling aren’t you?” He was right. The tears started strolling down. I didn’t expect the phone call to head this direction, or my night, or my life for that matter. “I don’t feel peace,” I began. Explanations and tears and questions and confusion followed. He listened and asked, “What do you want? What do you see yourself doing?” The first thing that came to my mind was Haiti and it shocked me. “Haiti,” I said, “I see myself in Haiti with the Colombian nuns.” And there it began.
After hanging up with him, I called my Papi; a combination of the time (it was around one in the morning), my stuffed nose, and lack of breath from the crying I’m sure he strained on the other line to understand my sobs. His advice was to take one day at a time, to give the job at least a week, and then to speak with someone in the job about my worries. Papi helped me calm down a bit and realize that at that time I wasn’t necessarily going to resolve much, especially since I had to work in the morning. I hung up and had a few words with our Genius Creator, “Look Diosito, from the very beginning I told you to take the job away from me if it wasn’t for me and now I feel this. This tremendous inquietude. Make it clear. You were the one who got me into this. Make it clear to me before I head to Atlanta what You want me to do.” I closed my swollen eyes, opened my mouth to breath, and went to sleep.
God decorated the following days with transparent signs that Haiti was where I was supposed to be. Three days later little doubt was left in me. CRS, as amazing, and as perfect as it seemed to be for me was to be left for Haiti. The day before flying to the SE office in Atlanta to speak with my boss and coworkers about my decision, I described to a friend on the phone the events of the past week and the clear signs provided for me. When I hung up the phone, I felt it. I felt what I imagine Elizabeth felt when her cousin walked in (I’ve never been pregnant so I know it’s a stretch, but that’s what I felt) I felt the a jump of joy in me. The certitude of the Holy Spirit. I felt peace.
The next day was a Tuesday. I arrived to the SE office, shared lunch with my coworkers and asked my boss for a talk. There I sat in front of her tender eyes explaining, my call to another place, leaving her with a position left open after months of searching for the right person and so much more. She listened and expressed her side. She respected me, admiring me for following the Holy Spirit in the way that I did, and saying, “the works of the Spirit are works of the Spirit.” I was ready for her to spit and curse at me, calling me an immature college graduate that did not know what she wanted. The conversation culminated with a prayer and out I went to explain the story to my new coworkers. They listened in shock with slight sadness and disappointment on their faces, while saying that they understood that where God leads, one must follow. My boss went to her office to call the headquarters in Baltimore to see what steps to take while I went to speak with another coworker. After a little time, my boss came out saying, “How’s your French?” Feeling guilty and wanting to help in any way I could, I answered, “I’ll translate anything you need.” “No, they’re offering you another job.” I laughed. “They are willing to transfer you to Haiti to be head of HIV/AIDS in Haiti." I didn’t understand. “What God! Make up Your mind. What shenanigans is this!”
I laughed a little more and she asked me if she should send the resume to them for the job opening in Haiti. I looked at the coworker I had been conversing with who reminded me, “Luisely, it still won’t be mission, it still is CRS. I would pray.” My boss looked at me and asked, “You want to go to the cathedral and pray?” Any getaway to spend a little time with this exciting God of ours was more than welcome. She called a friend that worked in the cathedral and walked me over to the side doors which were opened for me to go into the seemingly empty edifice. There I sat, laughed, danced, and spoke out loud. There I was, quitting an outstanding job because I felt a deep and sudden call to Haiti, and there they were, asking for my resume to transfer me instead of my letter of resignation. I decided to not worry and just let the one who got me into all of this to guide me. A coworker picked me up from the cathedral and drove me to her home where she welcomed me for the remainder of my time in Atlanta. As we sat by her chimney sipping tea recounting the direct signs and how clear Haiti was in my heart, I received a text from a friend saying, “Pray for Haiti.” I asked her if we could turn on the news, and to our dismay saw the catastrophe. The earthquake had shook Haiti on our drive home from the cathedral.
An array of emotions hard to describe ran through me as I heard the news anchors trying to make out headlines from the unknown. That night I slept little and prayed much. The next day, the CRS office hummed with commotion. The telephones rang incessantly, the news stations visited for interviews, each one of us with a task to inform the dioceses in all the South East US about how and where to direct aid and CRS’s role in all of that. Following lunch, I deciphered it an appropriate time if ever, to approach my angelic and overwhelmed boss. I walked into her office between phone calls and asked if I should write my letter of resignation. She looked at me and said, “Luisely, dear, we haven’t contacted all our employees in Haiti and we are no longer looking to fill that position. Now, we are looking for people with at least one year experience in disaster relief.” I held her hand, thanked her and left. By 6pm, I was back in Florida.
The welcome home was full of confusion. I left a week earlier with a steady, well-paying job, with benefits, that went perfectly with what I had studied, my experience, and my passions, and in less than a week was back at home, again, without a set plan and without knowing for how long. I dedicated myself to listen to God in everything and to live. Submersed in the present. I danced, took voice lessons, did cross fit, deepened relationships, practiced my French, went on retreats and searched to find where God wanted me in Haiti. All the while accompanying my family and those around me in their journey, while being accompanied in mine. The months were rich, as all are.
So that’s the story. That’s how I knew. That seems to be the way God is, at least with me. Guiding me in every step in creative and treacherously delightful ways.
With you,
Luisely
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
"Receive the Holy Spirit." John 20:22
Before starting the blog I felt such anxiety about it. I knew it was part of my mission, but dreaded sharing my writing and my experience in such an intimate way with the great (or small) unknown (or known) audience. My ego was behind this too, since I have this warped idea that everything I write must inspire and transmit love and humility, and that I control the outcome.
The day following my mini-break-down about the blog with Mami, I went to mass. God had fun with me and said, “Write down, therefore, what you have seen, and what is happening, and what will happen afterwards” (Rev. 1:19). Laughing, I smiled and grabbed Mami’s hand. The Holy Spirit will be with me and is with me as I write you this letter, as I learn Creole, as I walk with you and our brothers and sisters in Jean-Rabel.
May we be present and embrace our journey.
With you,
Luisely
The day following my mini-break-down about the blog with Mami, I went to mass. God had fun with me and said, “Write down, therefore, what you have seen, and what is happening, and what will happen afterwards” (Rev. 1:19). Laughing, I smiled and grabbed Mami’s hand. The Holy Spirit will be with me and is with me as I write you this letter, as I learn Creole, as I walk with you and our brothers and sisters in Jean-Rabel.
May we be present and embrace our journey.
With you,
Luisely
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
