Kisses at 5 a.m.

For almost 12 years now, I've been awakened each morning with a soft kiss goodbye around 5 a.m. My husband works in the construction field which starts each day at the most unreasonable hours. Or at least I think so!

Mornings, to say it in the kindest way, are not my best time of day. I have always taken after my father's trait of sleeping in as late as I can. Even when life has gotten me out of bed much earlier than I would have liked, I'm still not at my best. I need a good couple of hours in the morning to get my legs underneath me. In my college and single days, I would make up for a slow start by having a great late night finish! Going to bed at 1 or 2 a.m. was usual for me. I can no longer say that as sleep usually hits me around embarrassingly 9:30 p.m. My days are getting squeezed out as my mornings are sleepier and bed comes so much earlier. Exciting, right? :-)

For Matt, though, mornings are his best time. He is up between 4- 5 a.m., in the shower, dressed, made coffee and has time to catch a minute or two of early morning news. All this has taken place while I'm still snuggled under down comforting. Then I hear the same sound I've heard each morning out the window - the sound of this huge, all testosterone, heavy duty diesel truck. They are not quiet in the morning, let me tell you. Our neighbors for 12 years have also had the pleasure of knowing when Matt has left for work.

Matt is now working full time in North Dakota so the kisses and the sounds of his truck are not as frequent anymore. But I this I have come to realize...

Matt is a far better person than I. :-)

Like clockwork, Matt gets up and goes to work. He battles Las Vegas drivers, ungodly hot hours, transient and often untrustworthy employees, a demanding boss and more and more and more. For over 19 years, he's been in this industry and has grown from a basic operator to the General Superintendent of two thriving businesses under one name. Even now, work has pulled him away from his home he continues to provide for; he is living in a dorm style room with several other men pulled away from their families for work in the rural-est of places, North Dakota and he keeps showing up.

I would have buckled by this point. :-)

At this time in our marriage, I've come to treasure this one truth. Love is played out by kisses at 5 a.m. The love in our marriage has not always been communicated by flowers each day or sappy love notes left on the bathroom mirror, although those have shown up. It hasn't always been romantic date nights each week or high priced jewelry, although I've been blessed with those at times as well. Love has been displayed in the soft, faithful kisses at 5 a.m., that remind me Matt is still saying his vows each time he provides for our family another day. They remind me that no matter what heated argument we engaged in the night before, today is a new day and we get to start over as a couple. The sounds of his truck remind me that although I'm sure he would like to spend his very hard earned money on a sports car or 10,000 acre ranch somewhere, he gives to us, which often includes gymnastic lessons and a new kitchen gadget. Books for this avid reader. College accounts and make up lines. Bicycles and a new recliner for his wife. American girl dolls and whiplash scooters.

You see, Matt is a better person than I :-)

He has always been more generous, servant hearted and hard working than I. I get way more credit than I deserve.

I love you, honey. I don't know when you'll read this as you are more often putting your hands to the task than fooling around on the computer, but I'll show it to you soon. :-)

Thankful for kisses at 5 a.m........

Black Sharpie Markers, Long Lonely Showers, and Other Essential Tools of Motherhood

I'm just 10 years into my motherhood journey.

 Just 10 years, 2 SUV's, 2 pediatricians, 3 specialists and countless black sharpie markers into this :-)

It may sound cliche but there should be a Mother's Toolkit. Something they hand you with the generic, black vinyl diaper bag when you go home from the hospital. After just 48, or 36 or even 24 supermom hours later, you leave with this tiny, completely dependent life that came from literally inside of you. You leave the hospital still wearing your maternity clothes with this mushy strange belly that just a couple of days earlier was tight with the impending birth. And as you click the infant seat into your car, the realization sinks in that this divine being is yours, completely yours.

With all the privileges and responsiblities therein :-)

But wouldn't it be great if there was this "Essentials Mommy Toolkit" given to you; not prepared by baby registries or vogue motherhood magazines, but rather by the countless moms who have gone before you and will give you truthful items of necessity to not only survive as a mom, but to joyfully equip you for the journey? I would love that! Now, I know we would all have our own lists of supplies but so far this is what I would include...:-)

1. Special Vision Glasses that would illuminate all the items in Babies-R-Us that you really need, instead of registering for 10 organic, non-latex, mouth-contouring pacifiers at $10 a pop.


2. Earplugs that will edit out all the horrible labor stories you hear just days before you go into labor yourself.


3. An internal amplifier in your husband's ear that would heighten the baby's cry at 2 a.m. that would make it impossible for him to pretend he is still alseep and doesn't hear :-)


4. Black sharpie markers that not only label everything with your child's name, but will mark them indeliably with your name so that anyone who ever tried to hurt or take your child would suffer the consequences of your mama bear strength.


5. Duct tape to put over the mouths of people, many of whom never had kids or forgot what it can be like at times, who make unnecessary comments about how you should be handling your toddler's temper tantrum in the store.


6. An extra 25th hour in the day to do nothing but stand in a steamy hot shower... all alone!


7. Something that will hold your heart together which breaks now so easily when you see another child missing or being mistreated.


8. A coupon that gives full permission to put nothing else on the dinner table than mac and cheese some nights. :-)


9. Real permission to share not only your child's outward successes but their real struggles, remembering that it is their life and not some kind of justification of how well or poorly we are doing as moms.



10. A parenting book that says on every page nothing except, "Yes, it IS as hard as it is. You're doing fine." :-)


When I got pregnant for the first time, so many people said to me, "It will change your life forever." Those words have never proved to be more truthful. I almost don't know or remember the woman I was before my kids blessed my life. At times I see her and miss her, but most days I don't and I don't look back.

Even this morning as I was breaking up a fight over how close you can stand to the Wii sensor remote, my son came to me with tears in his eyes asking me to play a quick game of Phase 10 before we left for school.

Is there any greater invitation than that? :-)

Father, I belong to You

Note: The following blog post I began writing in a season of my life in 2009. I just now looked back and completed it.

Those words were given to me as an instruction from a spiritual director.

"Say those words in prayer to your Father everyday for an extended period of time."

There's not magic in the words. But it's not meaningless repetition. It is rather a reminder. A concentrated reminder of our choseness and adoption by the Father.

One morning a little while back, I found myself feeling... with no better words but this one.... lost.

I don't know all the reasons why I found myself in that place but I was there.

In my bathroom I sat sobbing and I remembered the exhortation to pray that simple prayer. I began praying, honestly not knowing who was listening or if I meant it. But I prayed. Through the tears I prayed in earnest. Longing to hear the voice of my Father; like a lost child in the grocery store that longs to hear the voice of their parent, I sat. As I prayed I began to believe the words. And I began to doubt them. I've been around things and places in Christianity long enough I wondered if I could believe with faith like a child anymore.

Then it happened... an impression in my heart that was unmistakable.
"Believe, Mary. Do not let your skepticism win. I am here. You belong to me. Risk. Trust. Believe."

I have believed in God since I was a child. Growing up Catholic, I always had a belief in God and Jesus and I have embraced it all. When I was a young teenager, I was challenged to know God more through a very real commitment of faith to Him. And I gave my young life to God. Did I belong to God? Yes, I could tell you, yes. But in my journey in the not so far past, even though I would tell you I longed to please only God, I began measuring this pleasure by so many things that were not of God. My roles. Being a mom. Being in church. How well I managed everything in my life.

Dare I say, (I have to whisper this part)...how others thought of me.

I no longer rested in my own skin. And that morning in the bathroom was the result.

Since then, I am choosing to pray this prayer and meditate on this thought only.

Father, I belong to You.

Just as I am. Exactly as I am. Whether I am busy in Your work or I am alone. My loves and my interests. My passion for books and movies that move me. My reflective spirit. My goofiness and my mediocre cooking ability. My love for friends and desire for extended time with them.

Some good things then naturally began to happen. I began to delight in my kids more. I began to see my husband differently and with more tenderness. I was kinder to myself. I no longer felt afraid of others. No longer felt a need to prove myself. I felt myself talking... less. And longing to listen and see more.

Brennan Manning says the phrase, "Father, I belong to You" coincides perfectly with our natural breathing rhythm. Try it. See? :-)

I have found in faith, more than anything, I must be reminded that I am daughter of God. That the truest thing that can be said of me is that I am God's child.

I didn't deserve it. It is grace.
I didn't ask for it. He pursued me.
I cannot earn it. It is a gift.
I often fail so short of it. It doesn't change the fact that I am His!

When I was little, I was often told I looked like my dad. My dark Cuban skin and big brown eyes reflected that I was my dad's daughter. I loved that. As I grew older and I saw what kind of man my dad was and still is, I love it even more. I am proud to say I am Alberto's daughter :-)

So isn't just like our love for God that the closer we get to Him; the more we know the truth of Him, we are even more "proud" to be His child?

I want others to see my Father in me. I want others to see without a doubt the Family resemblance. :-)

Father, I DO belong to You!

Discipline, Habits and Other "Encouraging" Words :-)

This morning the sky is still dark as it has been for the past 3 insomniac hours. I really don't mind the early morning hours as this is truly the only time our house is COMPLETELY quiet. 180 West Mulberry has been a house of activity the entire 9 years we have lived here and that is OK. Amidst the never ending laundry, dishes and creative artwork on the walls, I know there will come a day the house will become too quiet and I will miss this time when the kids are little and my parents are with us. I know this and try to drink it in and see the holy among the mundane, but truthfully some days are better than others :-) And some days I am better than other days.

So this morning, with stars still in the sky, I welcome the silence even if it means losing a couple of hours of sleep.

It is here in the quiet I can hear my own voice. My own heart. My own soul speaking. It is here I get a sense of the best of me and the awareness of where I've been less. It is here where I am not just a role I play in the world. I am not just a need-filler, a demand-responder, an out pour. It is here where I sit and sense the Divine and His love for me. And amazingly, my restless and wandering heart comes to rest.

If I am honest, which I have committed to be more of these days because who's going to be impressed with a show :-), if I am honest, I look outward way too much. It hasn't always been the case. Growing up I've been "accused" of being too sensitive, too mushy, too feel-y. Growing up I have spent much of my teenage years between the richness of friends and the inward reflective. I began my first journal when I was 14 and have continued it to this day. I loved writing down quotes and song lyrics that meant so much to me. I often did my homework in my room with some hit '80's radio station on, recording favorite songs on a cassette tape through my boom box. I have loved reading my entire life and especially loved books with great sentences and articulating what my heart seemed to want to shout out.

Growing up with it's increased responsibilities can slowly steal away the reflective parts of ourselves. The more our lives belong to roles and relationships, we can lose touch with the best parts of us that I believe is only audible in the silence. Where Heaven and Earth meet. Where God whispers and Love is found. It is only from this true sense do we give ourselves to the world around us.

I have given all of my adult years to the out pour of ministry and family. I have committed myself to people and needs and children and marriage and God. Somewhere along the journey I began a bad habit of seeing my life as only an out pour. Oh, I would teach and encourage and speak on the opposite. I would strongly encourage any who would listen to make sure you still your life to receive and drink in all that fills you. To not just serve God and others, but to KNOW God. And while I always believed that to the core of me, if you looked closely at the way I scheduled or lived out my days, the evidence would be convicting, and not in my favor :-)

I have always wanted and still do for my life  have impact for good and God. I have always been considering how can my short life here will count beyond me. In fact, the first day I arrived in Las Vegas to take a student ministries intern position, it was over 108 degrees and the house I was to be staying in had no air conditioning temporarily. I had just driven my very good friend to her sister's house in California and made the long journey home through the Mojave Desert alone and walked into an empty, hot house, knowing only 1 person in Las Vegas and as I looked through precious pictures of great friends and family I left behind, I said to God in the silence, "OK, Lord, Make it count".

It's been the cry of my heart that my life would be lived out in love and encouragement to the people around me. And I have no regrets. But somewhere along the way, the needed time to be alone and still often got squeezed out. I began, very subtly, to see myself as only something to give. And as I welcomed more and more opportunities and responsibilities, I was naive of how much I needed to up my game in the reflective part of me.

This is how I realized it. As I came to "mid-life" my conversations and thoughts have been just about "what will I DO this second part of my life?" I don't think there's anything intrinsically wrong with that. I believe it's good to look back and see where we are and are there dreams we would still like to fulfill. Nothing wrong in dreaming new dreams for second half living. But here's where it went wrong, I felt lost in it. I felt confused. I felt I didn't know the next steps. I couldn't hear my life speak anymore. And God wasn't giving me clear new marching orders.

I wrongly saw God and His involvement in my life as another responsibility. Another demand. Another out pour while all the while, He's my ...... and I struggle for words right now... He's IT! He's the Lover of my Soul. He is Father. He is Speaker. He is Life and Dreams and Hope. I cannot even put words to it. He has not been asking me to pick up my steno pad and take a letter. He's...... see, I cannot even write it this morning. :-)

I was challenged most recently by a man I respect so much to not worry about DOING great things, but to live fully BEING a great person. Greatness as defined by Jesus. To respond to the world around me, with whatever He leads me to. To drink deeply of this life and to see it with beautiful, purposeful and eternal eyes. To live fearlessly in the lives of people and needs and problems. But I can only do that if my life is first filled and centered and quiet. For it is from that place I move into my life.

So this day, as much as I do not like words of discipline and habit, I know each morning here, in the quiet, in front of my laptop with a keyboard waiting for me to form words and thoughts, each morning here, I will come. I will still. I will come to the feet of my Savior and listen.

Feel free to listen along :-)