Silence of a Heart

You have called me to leave the worries of this day
To silence this very busy life into Your Place

Speak to me
Call my name
I will hear and obey

Worthy, You are worthy
I will open up my heart and let my spirit worship Yours
Worthy, You are worthy
I will open up my lips and give a shout of praise to you
For Your beauty
And to declare Your greatness
You are worthy

My Husband and My Space

My husband frowns on the fact that so many people use My Space as a way to flaunt their private affairs. Yesterday, I finally remembered my password for my MySpace account. The last time I had logged on was in October of 2008. I never was a great fan of it, but it was a way to keep in touch with our church youth group. And, yes, there were some of our kids’ profiles that definitly disclosed ugly stuff. Still, our leadership promoted a God-centered page. I decided to go back to the site because some of the youth still keep close and my cell phone many times looses its text messages. I figured this would be a good way to keep in tough and mentor from here if necessary. The problem arose when Miguel passed by my computer and saw some not so “godly” pictures posted on a page. He asked what was the purpose….why someone would post such pics….how was it Christ-like….and he ended as Head of Household, “I ORDER you to delete your account at once!”

“What?” (excuse me, I am not five years old anymore…..ORDER me? Ok, well, that’s a different issue and a whole other post….I got over it soon as I tried to understand his point of view. His word choice was not the best, but he was acting in my best interest.)

He said that one’s private life is should reflect God’s freedom but it does not gives us the right to cause others to stumble because of our liberties.

I have to agree in some aspects with him. I saw pictures of a friend who I know loves God, but uploaded pics of “poor taste” (my personal opinion). My friend has so much more to offer than what is portrayed. We share different convictions, but also share similar convictions since we are both surrounded by many younger eyes. It’s tough. I mean, do you hide what you do in your private life for the sakes of others…and is that being a fake? Or does one just “let it all out” claiming one’s personal right and option to be/do/say what one feels like? I reserved the right right now to not disclose my full opinion on this matter. I do have to say that I was saddened at a “funny” comment posted in my friend’s profile because although it is cool to have fun, those that are not mature in life or in Christ might take one’s liberties as a freedom to sin.

Well, after a table discussion between Miguel, Betty, Beba, and myself on the Pros and Cons of having a myspace account, his eyes were opened. We showed him a picture of himself with one of his nephews from this past year as they were in the central coast of Mexico. My husband looked good…baseball cap, cargo shorts, and glasses. He liked his picture, so he said, “Now, that’s what I am talking about! Post some good stuff…” LOL, he makes me laugh….and mad sometimes. Neither one of us is photogenic (future post), so he won’t have a big problem with me post pics where he is being exposed!

Look Into My Eyes

I wrote this piece for my youth girls’ class last June of 2007, and want to share it with you.

Look into my eyes.  Tell me what you see.  Answer this one question for me:  How much am I worth?

Look into my eyes, those eyes you so frequently and intentionally do not see to avoid looking at the real me.

Look into my eyes now. Tell me what you see.  Is it just another object waiting to be seen?  Is it the product of a lustful driven world?  Is it the reflection of the latest heels?  Is it a sexy silhouette that in the words of many mouths it’s name is highly praised and sooner than one may say later, it is brought down to shame?

Look into my eyes.  Tell me what you see.  Is it really an “it” that you will see or is there more than that such as me?

Look into my eyes.  Tell me what you see. For such a long time you have been avoiding this very godly act.  It is what the Creator intended since the beginning of time for all to live.  He did not look outside these two windows.  He did not focus south of these two windows; neither did He hub to the north to the east nor the west of these two windows.  Yes, these are the windows to the real me. Open up the Book, know that it is true, to look into the eyes is to see the real you.  He took me by my cheeks and denied staring anywhere else but the real me.  He looked me in the eyes.  He cherished all that I am.

So I challenge you today.  Stop looking at the unpreserved.  Stop treating me like a trophy on display.  Stop rating my hips.  Stop rating my lips.  Stop rating my breast.  Just give it a rest.  Stop rating my hair as if you truly care. Stop rating my weight.  That gives me an ache.  Stop rating my ear.  Definitely, stop staring at my rear.  Stop rating my cheek.  Stop rating my feet.  Stop rating my legs on those hot summer days.  Stop checking me out, front, back, and all about.  Stop with the staring just stop the comparing.

TBC…

The Three R’s

According to B.F. Steere (1988), when dealing with children, one should not number more thatn 4-5 rules. There are three important criteria for these numbered rules; they should be reasonable, observable, and enforceable. The same goes for their consequences.

1. Reasonable: No outrageous rule nor consequence. “Let the discipline meet the crime.”

2. Observable: This means that you should be able to observe when the rule is being followed and when it is being violated. It cannot be something like “You need to be good all the time.” Well, what does being “good” mean? This rule is neither specific nor observable at all times.

3. Enforceable: Will you follow through with the consequence when it is violated? And, will the consequence modify behavior, reinforce self-control, or implement punishment?

Along with the above criteria, one must opt for choosing and Assertive Discipline system instead of an Aggressive Discipline system. These guidelines are for educators, but they are likely to work in one’s homes with some minor adjustments. REMEMBER that Rule are guidelines NOT set on stone.

The Aggressive teacher/parent “bullies” with threats and loud speech. These individuals lean towards punishment instead of consequences. Punishment is an arbitrary product of the individuals disdain for the child’s behavior, and may be ambiguous. Consequences are in direct correlation to the action not the person. While, the Assertive individual gives promises that are fulfilled each time a rule is violated. They are consistent with the consequence. Theya re do not ask rhetorical questions such as “Will you look at me when I talk to you?” They make calm but firm declarations as they enforce these rules of conduct. They never “loose it”. They show their audience how to react appropriately.

With this in mind, I’d like to add something I learned a couple of years ago. The following EQUATION (statement) may be applied to a school setting, the family, the church environment, and even our own personal relationship with God, if that is where we stand. It especially works well with teenagers. PARENTS: please take note of the following statement, understand it, apply it, and watch your relationship ship into a positive one with your teens!

Rules without Relationship will result in Rebellion.

Munch on that for a bit. This statement is directly proportional to Relationship. Meaning that when Rules are implemented WITH Relationship, the result should be Respect.

m&ms: From the Tunnel to the Cave

The most memorable moment in my life would have to be the day I was born, December 19, 1977 in San Jose, California. However, I want to take you back to about 1-2 months before I was born.

My mother had been living with my dad for several years, and had unsuccessfully been able to have children. They were in a very abusive relationship. My father was a chronic alcoholic, and would constantly cheat on my mom. Needless to say, my parents were not followers of Christ. There was constant fighting, and domestic abuse was a common characteristic in the home. My mother tells me that when she found out she was pregnant with me, she was delighted. She said that her nights would seem less long, and her hopes of happiness were once again viable with the thought of her not being alone anymore. Her pregnancy was not as the one painted in so many “girl movies” where the loving husband accompanies the new mom to their ultrasound, the doctor visits, Lamaze, or even the birth. In fact, a few weeks before I was born, my father and mother had an argument that as usual sparked the violence in my dad. I don’t know how I have this vivid image in my head about this inciddent because I was not born yet. I don’t know. I had this recurring dream, and I shared it with my mom. She thought that she had told me about it, but I don’t recall her telling me first. So, who knows. I do know that the dream came about in a time where God was healing my father-daughter relationship. (I was 19yrs old, and it is another blog). This is how the story and the dream goes:

It is late at night, and as usual, my mother is waiting for my father. Her over-sized belly is causing more and more discomfort as she is dozing off on the flowered-picturistic orange sofa. She is tired of reheating dinner thinking my father will arrive soon. Not having the dinner piping hot and served on the table was a possible factor for a beating. The kitchen’s layout is tiny. There is a small sized tan colored refrigerator, and a white gas stove separated by a gap of two feet. The dinette table is brown oak with gold tone steel pipe legs. It seats four. She peaks through the window. Sure enough, it is him because the lights approach their parking space. Fear begins to overshadow her pain and her mixed feelings of anger and disdain. The food is hot, and served. He is intoxicated, and knows that she is upset. He grabs her from behind to aim a kiss on her fair skinned neck. Mother’s muscles tighten as she shrugs her shoulders, and turns her chin opposite of his lips to avoid the smell of his fermented mouth. The tension grows at an exponential rate with his tyrannical responses. He is questioning her about her “coldness”. He is face to face with her. She is asking him to calm down and eat before the food gets cold. His hands on her upper arms are like clamps pressing her in place. His tactics to terrorize her work every time. He tangles his muscular fingers to the lower part of her black silky hair, and brutally pulls her down so that when he walks she is forced to walk with him. He screams that she is his. Utensils are all over the place. By this time, they are close to the stove and the gap between the refrigerator. Jolting and screams are my mother’s useless defense. My father shows her who is in charge by beating her face, pulling her hair, verbally abusing her, and to end the fight…he hits her so hard that she lands in between the refrigerator and the stove. There, the jolts from my movement remind her that she is not alone. All she can do is cry. Her fear of her baby girl being hurt before she was born overtakes her. She cries as her hands wrap her belly. Fear and pain are shared by both mommy and baby. My father is screaming from their bedroom to hurry up and clean up the mess so she can “fulfill” her bedroom responsibilities. A couple of weeks later, I was born. My sober dad visited the hospital, and was extremely happy that he kissed my mom, asking forgiveness, and kissing me. He was so happy that he left to go “celebrate” with his friends the birth of his baby girl. I had left that temporary safe zone in my mother’s womb, traveled through the universal tunnel of life, and entered into a cave in this world, whose darkness was to be explored.