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Summer of Unschooling (or: How to Have the Best Summer EVER with Your Children!)

I intentionally took time this week to reflect on what made this summer with our children extra special and memorable.  I had to laugh, because I immediately made the connection that this is the first summer in a while that I am not pregnant, nursing, or potty-training any little ones.  Woo-hoo!  That in itself is cause for celebration at our house.

Prior to the spring semester, I had never heard of unschooling (read: an educational method and philosophy that advocates learner-chosen activities as a primary means for learning).  After some research, I discovered that we were already doing this as a family, outside of the time our firstborn son, Jack, spends at a traditional brick and mortar school.

Pictured here are Jack’s summer wish list, and Cecily’s right above his (I helped her).

A planner by nature, I made printable calendars for June and July and stuck them to the fridge with a magnet.  I highlighted summer weeks that the children had their respective camps, and wrote, once a week, that we would have reading, piano, music and math lessons.  Fridays were reserved for field trips to the Children’s Museum and Gladys Porter Zoo.  At the suggestion of one of our pastors, Rich, who delivered a wonderful sermon about making lasting memories as a family, I also had the children make a Summer Wish List. 

To summarize, we focused more on the items our littles came up with and less on my schedule.  Learning and structure still occurred, but it was nicely balanced with free-time and play.  Below, you will find our 2017 Summer Highlights.  Our children have grown much, and we could not be more pleased with the results.

Jack

Jack has amazed me this summer (all bias aside).  He will be entering 1st grade in a few weeks and is 5 years old.  Standout moments include:  being named the MVP (Most Valuable Player) of his small group at his first church camp, earning his junior yellow belt in Taekwondo, helping lead a Walk for Alzheimer’s and learning how to swim (see video above).  For my typically reserved, oldest child, all these things were really big deals, and I am blessed to have witnessed them.

He spends his days drawing and creating comic books, writing, recording and directing short films (with our help, of course), and most recently, designing and building hotels out of Legos.  Now that he is a big boy, he also showers on his own.  He shares all sorts of ideas of what he wants to be and study when he grows up, but this summer, I overheard him tell one of his sisters, “When I grow up, I want to be a Dad.”

Ceci

I got a preview into what being a Dance Mom is all about last month, thanks to my Cecily Fe.  She tried ballet and tap for the first time, and went back and forth between which she preferred.  My free-spirited and independent child, I was surprised at how attentive she was in class, wanting to get each step just right.  She is a natural little caregiver and encourager.  It’s not uncommon to catch her saying things like, “Good job, Jack!”

With an expansive vocabulary, pretend play is her absolute favorite.  From playing with her dolls and dollhouse with her siblings, to hosting tea parties with us and her stuffed animals, and whipping something up in her kitchen, she  lacks no imagination!  We are all excited for her to start 3-k preschool this fall (her teacher will be my sister-in-love), of which she has said, “There will be two teachers:  me and Mrs. Garay!”  Still a bodily kinesthetic learner, she also enjoyed gymnastics camp and looks forward to continuing in the fall.

Feli

Rounding out our family is our bundle of joy and love, Felicity Belle.  Observers often comment on her huge, infectious smile, plump lips, freakishly long eyelashes and beauty mark that sits on her right eyebrow.  Or, her “Cutie Mark,” as our children affectionately refer to it.  She says, “Mama,” “Dada,” “Dog,” “Yeah,” and a few other words we have yet to discern.  Her current favorite:  Jack.  It’s the first word she says when she wakes up each morning.

At 13 months, she is entering my favorite developmental stage:  being a toddler!  I look forward to the one-on-one time I will spend with her when her siblings are in school.  Her personality is starting to show and evolve, with a sweet spirit that demands attention if she does not have it.  With two older siblings to contend with, we will sometimes hear her say, “Ahhhhhhhhh!!!” while looking at us all during suppertime.

My Beau

Beau and I will celebrate 8 years of marriage next week on August 9th.  The more time goes on, the more I cherish him!  When we first married, I did not realize all the bonuses he came with:  mad editing skills, excellent techie abilities, superb listening skills and patience, and a willingness to learn (to name a few).

Summer is our family’s new favorite season, with extra opportunities for the hubby and I to enjoy dates (even weekly at times!).  We love being outside and active together, eating great food and being on or near the water.

Together, we hosted a Summer Play and Pray Small Group through our church, where we meet at a different playground with a splash pad every week (local favorites are:  Cascade Park, Browne/Pete Benavides Park and the splash pad at Sam’s Pool).  The children have especially enjoyed getting wet and playing together with other kids.

Good job sticking with it to the end!  Enjoy my intro. video for VIPKID!

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Protecting the Sacred

We live in an era where many are considered Mini-Celebrities via their social media accounts.  I had a love/hate relationship with MySpace (remember that?!) and then Facebook when I first joined, and it has continued.  While I believe in living a transparent life, it has become so easy to overshare information.

Having an online existence can be fun and make you feel connected, but we must also safeguard moments that are sacred—meant just for us and our families.

Below I have listed my Top 5 Tips for posting to your favorite accounts (be it Instagram, Twitter or others) and protecting the sacred.  Or, not divulging too many details about yourself (and/or) your family’s private life.  (By the way, I have ideas to share because, like most, I have made mistakes.)

1.  Ask yourself, “What is my intention in posting this?”  My newsfeed has been full of summer vacation photos recently.  They bring a smile to my face, and I genuinely enjoy them.  Occasionally I think, “I’d love to visit that area, too!”

My family and I have thoroughly savored this season with a healthy mix of rest, recharge and play.  It’s perfectly natural to have the time of our lives doing something and want to share it with someone else.  Isn’t that one of the main points of living, after all?  Checking my intentions has helped me before tapping that magical “Post” button.

Am I wanting to communicate with close family and friends across the miles?  Am I showing off, or trying to Keep Up with the Joneses, if you will?  I must THINK (Is it True, Helpful, Inspiring, Necessary, Kind?) before listing.  Once something is in cyberspace, it’s there for-e-ver (The Sandlot, anyone?).

2.  When sharing photos of your children, other family members, or friends, ask for permission first.  This is something most of us take for granted.  Everybody has a Facebook account, after all.

This is one area I want to be better in.  Though I have strict privacy settings on familial announcements, and my children are only 5, 3 and 1-year old; I hope to get into the habit of asking them before divulging.  Another small, but significant, question that has helped: “Will this be something that embarrasses them when they are older?”

It can be argued that everything will embarrass them at a certain age, but I don’t want to add fuel to their adolescent fire.

3.  If you are making a big announcement, be sure that you have notified those closest to you first.  It is hurtful for a person to stumble across major news on your status update if they have not heard it directly from you.  Use your own discretion for this.

I have been in friendships where I found out more about the person via their social updates than my interactions with them.  Perhaps it’s the way the world is going, but I refuse to conform.  Plus, it’s awkward.

4.  It is possible to enjoy events and moments without sharing them with the world.  An acquaintance once joked, “If it’s not on Facebook, did it really happen?!”

We hosted a big princess party earlier this year for my oldest daughter who turned 3.  And there was nothing about it on our Facebook or Instagram accounts.  Did we like the party?  Yes, it was fabulous and everyone had a wonderful time.  Most importantly, our girl felt like a true princess that day!

We did not make a conscious decision to not share, but it simply did not happen.  I would argue that it was because we were present in the moment.  And too tired to share anything afterwards!

Some of the greatest times I have experienced with family and friends are not documented.  We were too busy savoring our time together.

5.  I am for sharing helpful information.  If there is a political candidate, idea or party you are especially passionate about, articles and ways to help are impactful.  However, oversharing also applies in this area.

I sometimes find myself rolling my eyes and thinking, “Yes, we all know how you feel,” as I mindlessly scroll on my phone.  Worst yet, during the 2016 Election, there were many I had to unfollow (on both sides of the aisle).  If you truly want to make a difference, get off of Facebook and go do something.  Call your senators, write a letter, organize a rally or peaceful protest… but please, stop telling the rest of us how we should feel.

And for the love of all that is good and holy, can we stop with the “Honk if you love Jesus,” Memes?  (That was a freebie.)

So that is my challenge to you.  Keep posting about the big and important moments in your lives, but not if it means ignoring the person next to you.

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The Failure Block

I soared through academics throughout my elementary and middle school years, and seldom had to try hard to get straight A’s.  That is, until I met Geometry my freshman year of high school.  Naturally, it was an AP (Advanced Placement) class.  My teacher was Mr. Zuniga, a man in his mid-forties with a salt and pepper flat top.  Thin-framed, he wore glasses, slacks and a tie most days.

An intelligent man, he loved math and all things numbers.  He also loved the sound of his own voice.  It sounded factual, with an air of, “I’m God’s gift to integers.”  Something would happen when he began his lectures (which usually lasted the whole class period).  My mind was magically transported to a place where I knew and recognized nothing.  He literally sounded like he was speaking a foreign language.

This continued for the rest of the semester.  Each week, I stayed after school for tutoring (also led by him) at least three times.  I took notes diligently and missed nothing that came out of his mouth.  My grade fluctuated every marking period from passing to not, and it tormented me.  I didn’t get it.  The end of the year arrived and I eagerly anticipated what my final Geometry average was.

Progress report in hand, I glanced over all the numbers solely searching for one.  And there it was.  69.  My end of the year average is a 69?!  Indignant, I never understood why he didn’t give me the last point I needed.  “Can’t he see I’ve worked my tail off?!”  I fumed.

Ultimately, Mr. Zuniga and I ended on good terms.  I wrote him a reflective letter on how I was thankful for having been in his class, and the invaluable lessons I learned through failing.  Which, looking back, was quite mature for my 14-year-old self.  My attempt at turning the other cheek.

Thus began my mental block with math.  I would go on to take courses up through Pre-Calculus in high school and do fine, but things were never the same.  I loathed mathematics, and I would never be good at it.

The Christmas Piano Recital is an event my students and their parents look forward to all year.  It is also one of my highlights.  I get especially excited for my four and five-year-old students to play a song by memory in front of an audience for the very first time.  It is not an easy feat.

My students and I were all smiles at the end of our 2016 Christmas Piano Recital.

The fall semester of 2016 was going along like most, except that I now had three young children under the age of 5.  Between keeping up with all of them, my husband, and our home; teaching piano sometimes felt overwhelming.  Still, I powered through because I love my students and appreciate the extra income.

For the big show, we found a venue that already had a baby grand, and I jumped at the chance to book it!  Most years we find a recital hall and rent the instrument separately.  This was more cost efficient for our families and easier for us, too.

The afternoon of the performance arrived and everyone was looking and playing their best.  And then it happened.  One of my precious, most hardworking little girls choked at the piano.  I watched her from a small distance as she began to cry.  I went to sit next to her on the bench, solely for comfort, and placed my hand gently on her back.  Choking back tears, she finished her songs and finished them well.  But she was crushed, and my heart hurt for her.

The four students that followed also had trouble playing, even towards the beginning of their songs, with difficulty finding their hand positions—concepts we had covered time and time again—something they had never struggled with at recitals before.  I kept my composure on the outside, but on the inside, my heart raced.  5 of my 15 students had made major mistakes, and I was baffled as to why.

During these annual presentations, I often feel like a chicken with its head cut off.  I try my best to be a gracious hostess, doting piano teacher and mother (because I also teach my own children), and master of ceremonies.  It was not until the end of our time together that I realized there were stickers on keys C, D, E, F,  and G on the baby grand, exactly one octave lower than where Middle C is located.  I keep one sticker to mark Middle C on my piano for the younger children.  For all you non-musicians reading this, some of the students placed their hands where the stickers were on the instrument the day of the performance, instead of where they belonged.  Confusion ensued, and thus, the results.

I felt like a complete failure.  Nothing anyone said (or didn’t say) consoled me.  As an educator of many years, I have always felt that my students’ success was my success, and their failure, my failure.  I had overcommitted myself once again, and it was painfully apparent (to me).

As an ambitious firstborn, I did not like the idea of doing anything I wasn’t good at for a prolonged amount of time.  As I have grown older, and hopefully wiser, I realize that failure is a necessary part of life and an excellent teacher.

My mathematical mental block lasted for many years.  It remained so until the second semester of my senior year of college when I took Teaching Mathematics for Elementary School Students.  “How hard can it be?” I thought.  While it was certainly not Rocket Science, it was also not as easy as I anticipated.  I found myself attending every tutoring session offered, constantly practicing and reviewing my notes.  I would pass the class with a hard-earned high C.

Numbers and I are friends now.  Thanks to my husband’s influence, I enjoy creating a budget and sticking to it.  I have been contacted twice in the last couple of years to write for financial institutions (read those entries here and here) as a result of crunching figures.

I often see myself in my students, too.  I remember the little girl and adolescent that feared failure, and did her best to avoid it.  Recognizing it is inevitable has helped me fail forward—the idea that our perception and response to failure is key to success (a concept made popular by John C. Maxwell).

Remembering the little feet and eyes that follow closely behind has also inspired me to shift my perspective.  Here’s to fully embracing future inadequacies, learning from them and moving forward.

 

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Preparing for the Inevitable

I originally thought about titling this post, “Preparing to Die,” but reconsidered.  (Think Inigo Montoya from The Princess Bride – anyone?)  The truth is, each one of us will pass on.  There is a 100% chance that we will not live to see forever on Earth.  While many fear death and spend most of their days avoiding it, I say it is imperative to think about it and prepare for it– not in a way that is morbid, but practical, considerate and wise.  Below you will find my Top 4 ways to make as clean an exit as possible, in no particular order (since none of us really knows how or when it will happen).

1.  Get out of Debt

My husband and I have been living debt-free for about 6 years now.  We have a mortgage, yes, but it is on a house that belongs to us.  For the story on how we got rid of roughly $14,000 worth of baggage our first couple of years of marriage, read my original entry here.

If you pass away and have a large amount of debt (or any), your spouse may be responsible for paying it off (depending on the situation, whether you co-signed on the credit, and state you live in).  If you are not married, the burden will fall to your estate.  In some cases, when the money owed is steep, heirs must sell items in order to pay it back.

If they are unable to cover it, the creditors are eventually forced to write it off.  Still, don’t do this to those you love.  Because nothing says I love you like “Here is $50,000 worth of credit I didn’t have time to take care of before kicking the bucket.” 

2.  Prepare a Will

There are a plethora of online sites that can help you create and print, or order a will.  We used legalzoom, and paid about $70.  I know people that have simply written something out on a sheet of paper before venturing on a big trip or new move.  Something is better than nothing.

In it you will dictate who inherits your home, belongings and assets.  My husband and I have had difficult discussions over “What if…?” situations before.  The most challenging was conversing over this worst-case scenario:  What if we died at the same time?  What would become of our children?  We have specified that in the official document.  We pray that it never comes to this, but you simply don’t know.

It is necessary to contact said parties and make sure all are in agreement with the arrangement, too.  These talks are not easy to have, but they are of utmost importance.  Other relevant questions deal with life support and emergency situations, and burial and cremation preferences.  Also, are you an organ donor, and does it specify that on your driver’s license?

We have what’s called a Last Will and Testament, and are at liberty to modify parts of it at anytime.  Every now and again we revisit it (like when we recently traveled abroad) to make sure our hopes and wishes are the same.  If they are not, we change it.

Emotions and tensions are at an all-time high when a loved one perishes.  I have heard horror stories over feelings that were hurt and falling-outs that occurred because there was not a will, and expectations were not made clear. This can happen even when there is one.

3.  Invest in Life Insurance

It is best to invest in a life insurance policy that is three times your annual salary.  First, you find a life insurance agent.  We found one through USAA, because it supplies many of our insurance and banking needs.  You apply for it and they send someone to your home to give you a physical.

If everything checks out fine, it takes about 6-8 weeks for documents to be filed and your insurance to begin.  I am thankful that my husband has taken care of this, should anything happen to him.  We will work on getting mine next.  The point of life insurance is to cover those you leave behind.  Funeral expenses can also be included in this.

4.  Make things right

I would argue that this is the most important.  Believe me when I say there is deep regret when it is too late.  Too late for that conversation, thank you, hug, kiss, word of encouragement, offer of forgiveness, etc.  So, have that awkward but needed talk.  Send that letter.  Make things right so that you are at peace when your loved ones pass, and they are at peace when you do.

There is no correct way to make such a grand exit, especially since most of us have no control over when or how it will occur.  Thinking of those we leave behind, their well-being and our legacy are the real treasures, not the material goods they will inherit.  As for me, I want to make sure things are right in my heart with the Lord, too.  (Feel free to comment or message me if you have questions about this.)

What are some steps you have taken to prepare for no longer being here one day?

 

 

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Playgrounds, Friendships and Wonder Woman

30 May 2017

I was using the restroom in the London Heathrow Airport when I was reminded of just how loud my two older children can get when playing together.  About 20 yards away sat two soft playgrounds, adjacent to one another.

The one on the left was for littles aged 0-2 years old, the one on the right for ages 3-10.  Both were filled with bright, primary colored toys, slides and ladders.  It was a welcome respite after walking through London that day and finding no play areas, and having three more hours of our layover left before heading to Germany.

We had already experienced British customs twice with our three offspring, ages 5 and under, in tow.  It was eerily quiet in the 30-minute (at the very least) line upon entering and exiting the country.  It was blatantly obvious, to me, that we are not British.  (Our children actually did a spectacular job of “keeping it down” during this part of the journey).

“Ahhhhhh, here comes the bad guy!!!” I heard my son and daughter alternatively yelling, their voices echoing down to where I was washing my hands.  My heart raced inside my chest.  My two oldest children were surrounded by a handful of tykes from around the world.  “Oh no, who are they calling ‘bad guy’?!”  my mind raced, feeling mom-guilt over not teaching them enough about diversity.  Our city of residence, Brownsville, is about 96% Latino, and we are in the majority.

I walked by and saw that the roles had been reversed.  I saw the most precious, little African girl running from my tots.  “Oh no, the bad guys!” she screamed, while my two ran towards her, also chasing a couple of Arabic boys, all squealing in delight.  I smiled and laughed (while simultaneously breathing a sigh of relief).  It was a vision I won’t soon forget.  “What happens to us when we become adults?” I was left pondering.

I have been blessed with deep friendships and relationships over the course of my lifetime.  There was a season when the thought of intimacy with other people freaked me out.  They were just so… messy.  Now, it’s how I choose to live my life, with others.

I enjoy going there with folks.  Not in ways that are inappropriate, but in ways in which our souls connect and we share things that are important.  In fact, though I hesitate to write this, friendships where the realness is not reciprocated do not last in my book.  While one can have many acquaintances, they can only have so many friends.

So here’s to those that have walked with me thus far and will continue to, and new allies I will meet in the future.  Here’s to not jumping ship when they demand much of me, inconvenience me and drive me batty.  Here’s to unconditional love, unwavering support, occasional discomfort and plenty of fun!

Perhaps one day I will have the privilege of loving people the whole world over. Until then, I’m going to practice loving my part of the world well.

I’m not sure if I’m alone in this, but when I watch epic movies (read:  Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter) I find myself, as a strong female, relating more to the male characters.  Swept up in the battles between good and evil, I envision myself as Aragorn (also know as Strider), a fierce and fearless, yet humble, leader.  I once took a Which Harry Potter Character Are You? quiz and got Mrs. Weasley as my result.  I was severely disappointed.  Nevermind that, though.

I went into Wonder Woman with an open mind.  I had heard and read fantastic peer reviews over it.  Truthfully, I was blown away.  It is an excellent movie.  At the end of the film, I left triumphant, thinking, “Finally, a heroine I want to be.”  I was particularly surprised by the spiritual parallels (which I love) that stood out to me.

<<<SPOILER ALERT>>>

Wonder Woman’s main quest is to find Ares (the God of War) and kill him.  In her mind, once she does this, it will end all wars between mankind.  While she succeeds in her goal, she finds the result is not what she expected.  Towards the end of the movie, her love, Steve Trevor, sacrifices himself for the greater good.  Shortly after, in the final showdown between her and Ares, their conversation is as follows:

Ares (also known as Sir Patrick) to Wonder Woman:  Destroy her, Diana (referring to Dr. Poison, the inventor of a poisonous gas that has killed many).  You know that she deserves it.  They all do.

Diana (also known as Wonder Woman) to Ares:  They’re everything you say, but so much more… You’re wrong about them.  Ultimately, she does not kill Dr. Poison.

And this final gem, at the conclusion:  It’s not about what you deserve.  It’s about what you believe, and I believe in love.  I used to want to save the world…to bring peace.  I learned within them [humans] there was both [light and dark], a choice.  And now I know that only love can truly change the world.  So, I stay, I fight and I give.

To all that I say, Amen!

 

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The Secret Annex

It was the 2006-2007 school year that I taught one of my greatest literary lessons.  As a 5th grade teacher, I had the task of picking out class sets of books for the children to read.  When I taught in Iowa, there was much freedom in planning and helping my students make text-to-self and text-to-world connections.  Some of my favorite memories include reading The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe and Bridge to Terabithia and taking my pupils on field trips to watch the movies in the theaters.

In our library that year, I stumbled across a modified version of Anne Frank’s The Diary of a Young Girl.  It contained photos and plenty of excerpts and passages from her book.  In my years of being in the classroom, I often saw that my scholars struggled with reading nonfiction.  They were certainly capable; they were simply not interested.  Thus, I set out to inspire them with this real story I knew most had heard about.

2 June 2017

My husband and I stood in line for an hour.  We made friends with the people standing beside us; two young Latinos on a European adventure in front of us, and a Chinese-American family behind us.  From the outside, the Anne Frank House and Museum stands five stories high and looks like a typical flat.  I chatter away and glance at it on occasion, unsure of how I will react once inside.

We pay the fee at the entrance and immediately see the sign: No photography or video recordings of any kind.  I quickly stuff my Nikon in my backpack and proceed.

I refer to the two years I taught at McKinley Elementary in Des Moines as the “honeymoon period” in my educational career.  This next story is the icing on that cake.  The 5th graders thoroughly enjoyed reading The Diary of a Young Girl, and participated in great class discussions and activities.  Thanks to visiting a local Holocaust Remembrance event held at one of the synagogues, we dug even deeper into the issues of social injustice.

As I was researching on the internet one evening, I came across a newspaper article that mentioned a former World War II soldier that served in the Liberation Army would be in town.  He was going to pick one school within the Des Moines Public School System to share his story.  Interested parties need only apply.  I quickly got to work and presented our case.  This would be the capstone on our most recent literary lesson; history would come to life before our very eyes!

The whole day my husband and I spent in Amsterdam, the line for the Anne Frank museum extended outside, wrapped around the building and continued for a few more blocks.  Once inside, it was completely quiet, save for the audio tour we listened to on headphones.  We walked through slowly, taking every part in.  Black and white familiar photos and quotes lined the walls.  In each room, there was a video recording of those who knew Annelies best.  Close friends, neighbors and a video recording of her father, Otto Frank, the only familial survivor of the Holocaust, at the very end.

About 3/4 of the way through the tour, the audio recording turned off completely, because we would walk behind the bookshelf to what was the Frank family’s (along with two other families) hiding place for two years.  Up until that point, I had a mix of emotions:  wonder, awe, heaviness, acute awareness.  As soon as I took the steps up to the hiding place, everything in me went silent.  The dark rooms with the wooden floors and scantily decorated walls proved too much to bear.  My vision blurred as I began brushing tears off my cheeks.  They would not stop falling…

The children were fully attentive while the WWII soldier that helped liberate a couple of the concentration camps told his story.  “I’ll never forget that smell.  It was the smell of burned flesh because so many people had been killed,” he shared through tearstained eyes.  “It was pure evil, and I will never forget what I saw,” he said.

My pupils listened, eyes wide with understanding.  They knew the evils he spoke of.  They had read about them and seen photos.  One by one, we shook hands with the hero, and thanked him for his service, and for coming to share his story with us.  As he, his wife and son left our room, his wife leaned over and whispered, “We picked your class because we knew it would mean the most to you all.”  It was a literary lesson none of us would ever forget.

As we made our way through the secret annex, I envisioned my three children living there, being forced to be quiet, and not allowed to go outside or use running water during the day, for fear of being caught.  I thought of my husband, and what would have become of him, had he tried everything in his power to protect us and not been able to.  My heart literally ached at the end of the story I already knew.

To conclude our journey, we sat in a room where Anne’s surviving friends, and current authors, diplomats and celebrities, thanked her in recorded messages.  Hers was not ultimately a story of despair, but of triumph and hope.  You left feeling, much like after you’ve read her book, like you knew her, like she was your friend, or daughter, or sister.

While my family and I vacationed overseas, there was another act of terror committed in London, the city we had just frequented one week prior.  Loved ones messaged us (we were in Germany at the time) to make sure we were safe.  We did not envision taking our children on an overseas trip at such young ages, but when the opportunity presented itself, we could not turn it down.

We had good, hard discussions with them about how the world contains much beauty and is meant to be explored.  We were also honest about how there are people who do evil, and might want to hurt us because of the country we live in, our faith, or any other reason they might find.  We want them, like us, to be cautious and aware at all times, but unafraid.

I am incredibly thankful for the opportunity we had to visit Anne Frank’s house.  I am still processing and wrapping my mind around all that it means for me personally.  Presently, I am greatly inspired and will continue to write, teach and travel when I can.  And I think of Anne.  She gave me the best text-to-self and text-to-world connections I could ever hope to have.

The day the soldier came to visit us…

 

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A Lesson in Puking

It was a couple of days ago, when my oldest daughter was struggling with a stomach bug, that the veil was removed.  Her body was telling her to throw up, but she refused.  My husband and I sat ready to catch whatever came out, bucket in hand, towel ready.  Her small, fevered body was so fatigued that she fell asleep in between the urges to vomit.

“Ceci, I know you don’t want to throw up.  No one likes to.  But you will feel so much better if you do,” I told her gently, “just let go…”

“No, I don’t want to!” she cried in agony, her frame completely tense.

We felt helpless and prayed for it to pass.

My beautiful, spirited oldest daughter.

In between those sessions, I observed her and felt equally defeated and amazed.  It was my first time seeing someone will away the urge to throw up.  Everything was physically telling her to regurgitate, but she had made up her mind she was not going to.  The mind is a powerful thing.

Cecily is lovely and incredibly spirited.    There have been times when people have asked, “Is she your strong-willed child?”  I gently correct them and say, “She is spirited,” with a smile.

Perhaps the terms are synonymous, but strong-willed has received a bad rap over the years.  It implies that there is something inherently wrong with a tyke when they are referred to in such a way.  On the contrary, I admire my daughter’s spirit.  Do I pray that we can successfully guide it over the years?  Absolutely.  But to try to take it away, or “tame” it, would be to remove a key part of her:  her passion.

As a Mexican-American child growing up on the border, I saw the resplendent, hard and displeasing parts of our culture.  I was blessed to see many examples of family members and friends offering the shirt off their backs to help someone out, deeply ingrained lessons that will never leave me.  I also observed, however, that when those same people who were eager to help experienced tumultuous times themselves, they seldom, if ever, asked for assistance.

Thus, both illustrations became significant patches woven into the fabric of my soul.  Unbeknownst to some, I am an unbelievably proud person.  By proud, I do not mean arrogant or boastful.  The Thesaurus lists one description as, “preservation of one’s dignity.”  Bingo.  Guilty.

Every couple of years, I find myself lying face-down in the dirt, in absolute need of someone to come to my rescue.  And I hate it.  Each time, I cry out to the Lord with a sincere heart, saying, “I have really learned my lesson this time.  I do not want to be humbled in this way again.”  

And I’m “fine”—until it happens again.

Ceci never did throw-up that evening, or after that.  Not once.  As I sat there watching her, my lesson was clear.  This is exactly how I deal with things on occasion, making them more difficult than they need to be.  All the while, the Lord gently leads me, as if to say, “Giana!  Just let go…”

“But I can’t!”  I scream, fists and jaw clenched, unwilling to surrender all things to Him.

I made up my mind that night that I’m going to be better.  I am an example for my children in how they should handle life, and not only when things are going their way.  Here’s to asking for help when I need it, and gladly accepting when it’s offered!

(By the way, I completely blame my husband for the strong resemblance between my oldest daughter and me.  When I was pregnant with her, he continually prayed for a little girl, “just like Giana”).

“God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble.” – James 4:6

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Lessons on the Water

“Live in the sunshine, swim the sea, drink the wild air.” -Ralph Waldo Emerson

8 years, and about 40 pounds ago…

I love the ocean.  The sights, smells, tastes, sounds and feels bring me great peace and nostalgia.  My mind recollects moments of my childhood:  camping in tents on the beach with my family, devouring sandwiches with hints of sand, spending time on the water with paddle boats and shallow water crafts, enjoying fresh caught fish for many dinners, and learning how to cast.

Learning to fish has been a slow process for me.  While I enjoyed tagging along on different excursions in my adolescence, I seldom paid attention to the sport itself.  Like a wave that has laid dormant, angling recently resurfaced and devoured me whole.

One of the reasons I love it is that it parallels life.  The following are some of the greatest lessons I have learned  on the water.

Go Where the Fish Are

Whether you are fishing in the bay, off the jetties, in a river or from a pier, take note of where other people are.  That is where you are most likely to catch something.  Great fishermen and women will cast in a nearby area.  If you are on a boat and see another barge leave a nearby spot and circle back around, you know they’ve had success.

This was an incredible day of fishing! We caught so many that the net tore (there were four of us).

We cannot live life alone.  We need other people in order to thrive.  Individuals that are like-minded and will support us in reaching our goals.  These companions may vary according to the season of life you find yourself in, but it is integral to have them– at least one.

Examine the Conditions 

The moon, its gravitational pull on the Earth, tides, wind and weather all affect cold-blooded aquatic vertebrae.  To encourage bites, it’s best to have a balance of these elements.  While the conditions will not always be ideal, there are certain combinations and formulas that work best.  Examples are fishing after a new moon on a clear day, with 5-10 mile per hour winds.  When you hit that near perfect combination, it’s glorious.

Some of the greatest anglers I’ve ever known still have excursions where they catch nothing.  The perfect environment does not guarantee you will hook a big one.

Our existence is directly influenced by our circumstances, and so are the choices we make.  How you deal with the highs and lows is more of a character marker than your skill set.  Knowing your strengths and weaknesses, areas that need improvement, and taking an occasional, honest inventory of yourself will only make you better.  Being aware of the context  you are in and how you respond is key.

Know Your Fish

I’ve had a skin condition since the age of 14, Pityriasis Lichenoides Chronica.  The “chronica” implies that I’ll have it for life.  It does not hurt or itch.  It does not show up on the trunk of my body or face, but mostly manifests itself on my limbs.  When I was on a fishing trip as a teenager, someone looked at me and said, “If you were a fish, you’d be a Speckled Trout!”  As a self conscious teen, the comment hurt my feelings and made me want to continue covering up the problem areas with jeans and long-sleeves, even on sweltering South Texas days.

Looking back on the incident, I know the person meant it as a sincere compliment.  Specked Trout are beautiful fish.  They are also some of my favorite seafood.  As it turns out, sun exposure, sand and water are the best treatments for my skin problem.

 Learning about fish varieties is helpful when purchasing bait,  setting the hook, picking a casting spot, filleting and cooking them.

This was a neat moment on the water! My husband and I got a double hook-up, meaning we caught and reeled in two fish (Trout) at the exact same time. About 7 months pregnant here…

Ideally, I would like to spend time near the water every weekend, particularly on the bay, South Padre Island or Boca Chica Beach.  Each of these destinations is only about 30 minutes from my house.  As a mother of three children ages 5 and under, however, that is not realistic.

This current stage of life consumes me and my time.  If I am able to pursue other interests and hobbies outside of my immediate family, it is a rare treat.  With each passing year that I’m alive, time seems to go faster.  I often heard older people speak of this when I was younger; now, I’m living it.  Prioritizing what is most important requires intentionality.

Ultimately, I am raising three incredible human beings to thrive in this world; eventually, it will be without me.

Be a Good Samaritan

I’m a spiritual person.  My favorite lessons are those I learn that apply to deep convictions I have.  For those not familiar with the story of the Good Samaritan, click here.  In short, it speaks of loving the Lord and loving your neighbor as yourself.  It’s easy to read this narrative and think, “I would be the Good Samaritan in that situation.”  What if doing so would greatly inconvenience you?  Or worse, require you to sacrifice?

I’ve heard tales of people being stranded on a boat with no one to come to their rescue.  I almost experienced this myself.

On a fishing trip with family earlier this year, our motor stopped working in the middle of the bay.  We tried restarting it, and taking off the cover and using a rope to turn it back on.  Nothing worked.  Thus, we started drifting, and finally tied ourselves to the dock of a houseboat.  We waved many other boats down.  Texas law says if you see a stranded watercraft you are to ask if help is needed or call for assistance.

Many groups drove right on by, a couple slowed down and asked how they could assist, ending with, “Umm, sure, if you all are still here on the way back we’ll pull you to shore.”  We knew they didn’t mean it.  We immediately began praying and planned to borrow the battery of a similar sized barge to get our motor going again.  We just needed one to show up and stop.

After waiting a couple of hours, one finally did!  They let us use their battery to start up our motor so we could get going again.  We thanked them profusely, prayed with them and drove back to shore.

My first Red!  Just a little excited…

This was also the day I caught my first redfish, so the trip was not entirely in vain.

I shudder to think of how long and difficult the afternoon would have been had that boat not stopped.  It was full of men (about 6) that also had plans of catching their limit that day.

While I cannot hope to save the world, I can do the small and large tasks I am called to daily.  I can pray that I have “eyes to see and ears to hear” the needs of those around me, even if they’re not written in my planner.  And I hope that when I am the one in need, I can humbly ask for assistance and graciously accept.

I am a visionary and have plans of catching all sorts of fish over the course of my lifetime.  In many ways, I will always be a beginner in my lessons on the water.

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Serving Up Valentines

T-minus one day until Valentine’s Day!  There tend to be two opposite camps when it comes to celebrating this grandiose holiday.  Participants love it and go all out (read:  when I was in high school many years ago, the main office would be chalk full of red, pink and white balloons attached to life size bears).  This is not an exaggeration.  I was never on the receiving end of such pompous gestures, but I digress.

There are those that detest the thought of acknowledging the Hallmark occasion, swearing that love should be celebrated all the time, and not just on a particular day.  Whatever your side, there is no denying that at the core of who we are, we want to be and feel loved.

I have spoken with many couples over the years whose communication was at a crossfire.  A former coworker summed it up best.  After more than 30 years of marriage, his wife left him.  “She said I didn’t love her anymore,” he shared.  “She told me that our house and her closet were full of fine things, clothes, linens, but that wasn’t love.”  My heart broke for him.

In his book The Five Love Languages, Dr. Gary Chapman outlines the five ways most people give and receive love.  Below, I have outlined them with some ideas on how to meet them.

If you do not know what your preferred language is, or that of your significant other or close friend(s), taking this quiz is a good place to start.

Acts of Service:  I am quite familiar with this category, as it is my most dominant one.  My day is made when my husband takes out the trash, does the dishes or helps with the laundry, particularly if I do not have to ask him to.  Likewise, when I prepare supper for him, take care of the children, or ask him if he would like something from the kitchen when I grab an item for myself, it is my way of showing him that I care.  Other ideas to help an Acts of Service extraordinaire feel loved:  fill up their gas tank, pick up the house one day, take the children off their hands so they can enjoy some alone time, and serve them a beverage or snack.

Locals, check out Seeds of Hope on Facebook. My Valentine and I completed this painting under their instruction and enjoyed some great quality time while creating it.

Quality Time:  I can go weeks without seeing some of my closest friends.  Because of the season of life I am currently in, sometimes this is the norm.  As long as I have their undivided attention when we are together, and vice-versa, my love cup is full.  This is also the case with long-distance friendships.  A special text to let me know I am being thought of goes a
long way, as do those rare, but cherished, phone conversations.  Helpful ideas for quality timers:  go out for a one-on-one coffee date, put the cell phone down, ask lots of questions and listen intently to their responses, and make good eye-contact.

Words of Affirmation:  My husband and I have been married for 7 1/2 years.  His spirit can live or die by my words.  I have seen him physically stand taller and walk stronger when I praise him.  His inner spirit perking up manifests itself on the outside.  For word lovers:  write what you love about them as a morning message on a mirror, in marker or lipstick, write them a special note and place it somewhere they would not expect it, call them and let them know all the ways you appreciate them, and let them hear you praising them in front of others.

Physical Touch:  While the practice of this particular form of communication may seem obvious, it is not always.  The art of physical touch is not only important to perfect in the bedroom with your spouse, but outside of it as well.  Simple gestures like holding hands, hugging, kissing and caressing in nonsexual ways are of utmost importance to a person whose number one goal is physical touch in a relationship.  Among girlfriends, I will occasionally reach out and pat them on the back, hug them or put my hand somewhere that affirms I am listening to them.

Need some thoughtful gift ideas? Adore Me Personalized Cards to the rescue!

Gifts:  I must confess, this is the love language I struggle with the most.  I am not the best gift-giver.  Rather than trying to “break even” in returning my affection to people that have lavished me with presents, I have outright asked what they would like, made homemade gifts, gifted photos of our children and family to them, and paid careful attention to items they have mentioned they needed or wanted. Along with the gift idea card, AdoreMe has some great gift ideas on things from comfy pjs to workout gear that make great gifts.

Now tell me, do you and your significant other have fun traditions you do every year for Valentine’s Day?  Do you go out with friends?  If you did not previously know about their love languages, how is this new knowledge going to help you to better love and serve them in the future?  I would love to hear from you!

My main squeeze and me. We are lifelong love students of one another.
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The Problem with “Skinny”

Disclaimer:  There are people I care deeply about who are naturally thin.  This post is in no way meant to demean you or anyone else who is slender.  Enjoy the gift, I say!

Personal

The story of how I came across PÜR (Personal, Unique and Rewarding) Fitness is quite serendipitous.  I was mindlessly scrolling through my Facebook Newsfeed in early December, when I read the local gym would be giving away various packages for the month.  Knowing that I needed to take charge of my health and make changes, I filled out a quick, online survey that included my name, basic information, and why I was interested in winning.

It was the third week in December that I found out I had won a significant combo:  12 FREE workout sessions for the month of January, a package normally worth $150.  I was ecstatic!  I knew this was the new beginning I longed for.

I’m not athletic.  In elementary school, I was that child that preferred having free time over structured physical activities.  I loathed whenever we were assessed for grades.  The sun was hot; the South Texas blacktop, even hotter.

October 12, 2008: the day I ran the Chicago Marathon. I will likely never be this skinny again (and yes, I was in this photo). I’m okay with that.

When I was living in Iowa in my early twenties, I had a friend introduce me to jogging.  We started off slowly, with interval training (ex: 2 minutes of walking, 1 minute of jogging, alternating for 30 minutes).  After a couple of months she challenged me to sign up for a 5K.  I did, and the rest is history.  I ran the Chicago Marathon in 2008, and the San Antonio Rock n’ Roll Marathon in 2010.  I fell in love with the endorphins and everything about running.

Flash-forward to almost ten years later, and people still associate me with marathoning.  While I do not mind this, my marathoning days are well behind me.  Because I ran much then, peers sometimes assume I still do, or that at the very least, I am athletic.

With comments some have shared over the years, I get the impression that I’m someone who’s viewed as having an easier time than others managing my weight.  Having three children in the span of the last five years (all delivered via c-section), has left me feeling like a stranger in my own body.  Examples of these shared remarks:

When doing Zumba with friends and speaking to an instructor, one of them, referring to me, said, “Ella no lo necesita.  Ella ya esta flaca.”  Meaning, “She doesn’t need this class.  She’s already skinny.”

When traveling with a dear friend abroad:  “I wish I had your body.”

Well-meaning acquaintances during my pregnancy:  “You’re one of those pregnant ladies that’s all belly!”

Meanwhile, I have had an incredibly difficult time shedding the baby weight after carrying three children back-to-back.  My social media feed bursts with moms who have lost all the weight—and then some—nursing.  I am still nursing my 7-month-old daughter regularly and exercising more than I have in a long time.  But, I have only managed to drop half of the baby weight.  I have learned recently, though, that it’s not always about the number on the scale.

Unique 

Today’s small group working with two of our trainers, Brenda and Elizabeth. They kick my butt every Monday (Body Sculpting).

When I first stepped into PÜR Fitness, there were many qualities that made it stand out as a nontraditional gym.  Smaller than most commercialized gyms, there were about 4-5 people working out that particular hour.  As I tried different classes (TRX, HIIT and Body Sculpting) throughout the month, I found that these smaller crowds are the norm, and I LOVE it.  Every time I attended a session, I received individual attention from one of the trainers.  Every time.

As a former gym hater, I never liked huge complexes sprawling with people.  Frankly, when I was working with a personal trainer at another local gym in my mid-twenties, I felt like such places were meat markets.  You could feel the tension as different gym-goers competed to hook-up with one another.  I was not interested.

I have felt a positive difference in my energy levels and can tell that I have lost inches.  Friendships are being developed with people I would not normally get to interact with and I am so thankful.

Rewarding

Owner and trainer Omar Garza decided to leave the corporate gym world in order to fulfill his vision of working with and helping people.  Established in 2009, Garza has a long-term dream of building a 5,000 sq. ft. facility that will be utilized as a private, membership-based facility, with an emphasis on personal training.  A lover of people, he cherishes the relationships he builds with his clients.

Garza inspires the community to lead healthier and more active lifestyles, recognizing that such a feat is especially challenging in Brownsville, where taco stands and panaderías (or bakeries) dominate food choices.  “Having a sick father figure at home that struggled with diabetes and heart issues made me want to give back and help,” he sincerely shared.

Family members Mary Valdez, and Rene and Maria Elena Corbeil have been PÜR Fitness clients for four years.  Valdez, a 70-year old former pre-diabetic, shared the sources of her faithfulness, “I’m able to move around [more].  I’m able to get off the floor.”

From L-R: Clients Rene and Maria Elena Corbeil, and Mary Valdez. Trainers Elizabeth Doster (intern), and husband and wife team Brenda Rosas and Omar Garza.

Rene Corbeil originally joined because his cholesterol, blood pressure and sugar levels were out of control.  His doctor encouraged him to change his habits in order to get off of medication.  He is currently medication-free.

Maria Elena added, “For me, I feel really energetic on one hand, and it’s helped me get rid of my nervous energy on the other hand.  So for me it really helps manage stress.  I’m much calmer.  I sleep better at night.”

The more I spoke with gym members and experienced sessions firsthand, I realized PÜR Fitness is exactly what it sets out to be:  Personalized, Unique and Rewarding.  None of this was more evident than when I spoke with long-term member and new friend, Ana Bodden Gault.

Under Garza’s tutelage for six years, Gault is nearly brought to tears when speaking of her coach.  “He likes to say that exercise is medicine,” she confided, “and that has really been the case for me.”

Diagnosed with a chronic illness (Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome, or POTS, for short) eight years ago, she had to move around with the help of a walker, and was put on constant bed rest when she initially started working with Garza.  She lacked basic balance and muscle strength, and would pass out most of the time during her workouts.  “It’s a disconnection between my brain and the rest of my autonomic system,” she elaborated, “so anything we take for granted, my breathing, my heart rate, my digestion, [etc.] is out of whack.”

Posing on my second day at the gym. Gault is on the far right.

After a number of trial medications, Gault saw that being active was the one constant that helped her condition.  “[Garza] basically has me for life!  It has not only been a benefit to me, but a benefit to the rest of my family,” she said.

When listening to Gault speak about how far she has come, I felt a divine connection; she is a literal walking miracle.  And she inspires me.

I do not know how long I will be a member of PÜR Fitness, but I hope to be for as long as I possibly can.  And as long as I am, I will claim it as my gym.  For more information, please visit their website here, or their Facebook page.