I may be a future candidate for Hoarders!

This was my Facebook status today: "anyone else get emotionally attached to things in the home? We bought a new printer during black Friday ( more like cyber Friday for us) and I've had my other printer for 8 yrs... I'm actually sad to see it go..it's been through a lot with us..from Jr. high school reports, to taxes, to high school assignments... fare the well my hp printer....and welcome home new hp 3510"

 

How crazy is it to get so used to things ,that it makes you sad to see it go? Our printer which was once a scanner, copier, printer has now become.. a no scan, copy, and barely print printer... I have held on to it for as long as possible because the cartridge is refillable and I cannot pay $50 for ink...it is crazy to me. So, when I saw that it was on it's last function I knew it was time to replace it and with all the black Friday deals on printers we couldn't pass up the opportunity. So, I have this brand new hp printer sitting on my desk and I feel sad to put out the old and bring in the new.  How strange to even think about the length of time we've had our old printer and all that it has been through. I can remember when we purchased it, we were only married for a few years and our kids were little. It really has survived 4 teenagers, a toddler, and a man who would bonk it on the head when it wouldn't work right! I know it's silly to even have these feelings, but I am grateful that the printer lasted as long as it did. I'm not trying to store up treasures here on earth so don't worry, if you come over to my house you won't see a collection of broken items in my garage( actually I may have some stuff in there right now that needs throwing). 
  I wonder if this is how Writers felt when their typewriters would clunker out?

The cat and I

So today was freedom day for the cat! We’ve had her for a week and the poor thing has spent the majority of that time in the garage (by her own choosing) I figured she liked the garage better because it was cooler in there than the house and with all the stuff in there she could hide herself if she felt the need.  So today we slid open the back door and prayed as she walked out that she would not run away. My son and I decided to grab a blanket and make an evening of it so as the day set into the evening we enjoyed the coolness of the night. It was intriguing to watch the cat explore the back yard, especially since she’s been crying every night to get out. She slowly stepped out and began her inspection of the space. She once in a while would look at us and then she would proceed. We sat out in the back for about 40 minutes with her and  laughed at her silliness, we especially thought it  was funny when she heard the next door neighbors horse I mean dog ( it’s a marmaduke dog!) bark. Her back arched so high and she became stone still, it was too funny. Eventually she relaxed and proceeded with her inspection of the place. I was amazed at the difference from the last time she went outside (she escaped on the first night) I remember trying to coax her out of the neighbors shrub and her only response was a hiss! She is an all together different cat today, so relaxed and comfortable in this new environment. It took her a whole week which in people time would be ummm…scientifically, made-up about 2 months in people time. Of course this observation hits me because I’m still in the “hiding out in the garage phase.” But, I hope just as the cat felt secure enough to explore that I too will eventually be ready to proceed (with caution of course). Anyways back to the cat, after watching her for a while we felt pretty sure that she would not run and decided to go inside the house. She reappeared in the house about an hour after us meowing at me because I had moved her food bowl to the backyard!  I got the message and moved the bowl back into the garage, once I did that she sprinted towards it. Who does she think she is anyway! She’s not the boss of me (or is she????)  I chuckled as I heard her “crunch, crunch, crunch” through her meal and closed the back door. Two hours of exploration was good for her first time out there and I figure tomorrow we’ll let her out again especially now that we know this truly is her home!

right as rain

I have been going through the ringer ( yes even after making it across that high-wire!) BUT I listen to this and it soothes my soul in so many ways and Not just because this is my birthson ( although I am very proud of Evan). So, take a moment and listen to him pour out his heart through his music!

Great job Evan!

* check out shell for the pour out your heart wednesday blog!

tissue paper thin

This past weekend I began experimenting with tissue paper. I was at my cousin's house the week before and saw that their son Josh had made something similar to this,with the use of tissue paper and stamps. (Josh did an awesome job!) I made three pieces this past weekend, but this last one was for me. I put it right at the entrance to my bedroom. When I walk by and see it on my wall I'm encouraged because I feel as if my strength is about as strong as the tissue paper I used to make this and yet here is this completed picture. Last week I wrote about walking on a tight rope and I am smack dab in the middle of this high wire act. Fear and peace ensue every step. I literally have to remind myself to breathe through it, which is in part why I created this piece. So, this morning I saw my friend Robin had posted on Inspiration Avenue's weekly challenge and decided to join in especially when the theme is hitting me so personally!

A special thanks to graphicsfairy which is where I found the majority of my clip art!  

You can visit her site today to see all the submissions for Brag Monday!

"In his hand is the life of every creature and the breath of all mankind." Job 12:10

It's a high wire act.

It's a high wire act folks and she doesn't have a net! Let's watch as she steps foot on this wire and did we mention she's afraid of heights ha ha ha ha!!


Yes that is me right at this moment. Only those who know that I'm walking on the high wire know to watch, most are hopeful for me that I will not fall. Others walk on without so much as a hint to this daring act taking place. That's me alright, up there doing something I fear to do, doing something that may render me down to the ground. Or I may make it across, look at the onlookers and smile as I see what I just made it through. But, for now I'm holding on to the balancing beam while feeling the pressure under my foot from the wire. Is it too late to climb down and forget this whole thing? OR even worse is it too late to try and walk across? I glance down ,see no net under me yet know that I must take this next step. Those watching however see the net is so big that they fear not for my life. I not seeing how far and wide the net spreads out to, misinterpret it for the floor. I close my eyes, grip the beam and walk.

follow the follower?



participating in pouroutyourheart
sponsored by thingsican'tsay@blogspot.com



I accidentally “ followed” myself on blogger the other day. I was trying to follow someone else and next thing I knew it said I was following platanosandmangoes. I sat there and thought only me would me follow me. I broke down and messaged my (expert) friend Robin on the matter. At first I laughed at my own crazy mistake but, as I e-mailed the question to her (hey robin, how I do stop following myself?)... just then it really hit me deep. Suddenly this silly thing I did took on a whole new meaning and I began to ask myself the very same question I had just asked her. How do I stop following myself? How do I stop following the old emily who has become more fearful than fearless? How do I stop following in the footsteps of places I’ve already treaded because I’m too afraid to make new prints? It knocked me off my feet(no pun intended, OK well maybe a small one). When and why did I give up the freedom to be who I was intended to me? How do I get back to that once free girl who did things like move to Mexico for 5 months to go serve at a school for deaf children. Where is that girl who truly believed that where God guides He provides? After all, I say that I am a follower of Jesus and that I trust Him. But for sometime now I find that the footprints in the sand are more mine than His. I sit with this revelation and pray...because truly I want to walk not only where I dare to walk, but where God dares me to walk!"

a spoonful of tunnel



photo by:platanosandmangoes! 2010







(I'm supposed to be doing taxes but, needed a blogging break!)



Ever feel like you're digging your way out of a tunnel with a spoon? Not even a sturdy spoon, but one of those plastic spoons that can't have too much pressure on them or else they'll break! I'm facing a time in my life right now where I feel like I should have a shovel and instead I have this spoon. It forces me to slow down and have patience because this will not be a feat easily overcome. In fact, I'm not sure what this tunnel will lead to, perhaps another tunnel? (smile,cringe) If that's the case I hope I'll find a shovel or better yet a bulldozer!

Holding a sign while changing your life

Did you hear the one about the homeless guy who wrote out on cardboard and had his life changed? If you haven't heard about Ted Williams go here and then come back. Okay so I read the story about this gentleman who was homeless,jobless, and well lifeless. He, for whatever reason, had enough belief in the gift he was given to write it on a piece of cardboard and the rest I hope will be history. It got me thinking though I mean here this guy was past the "prime of his life", had made many wrong turns and was at what we would consider a major dead end. Yet, if he had not written those words on that sign, if he had completely given up on the idea of his worth we wouldn't be talking about him today. It encourages me not to give up on the understanding that God has a plan and that it's never too late to step into that plan. I definitely ponder at my life and see wrong turns taken and opportunities missed.  The more I think about it the more I relate to Ted Williams after all, keeping a blog is not much different than holding a sign. It's publicly putting yourself out there not sure which passerby will stop for a moment and read what you've written. Often times I don't know who is reading what I write, I technically have "4 followers" ( hi ladies) but for me it's the knowing that I am writing and sharing pieces of my life that makes writing and sharing worth while. So, here's to you Ted and the rest of us silent cardboard sign holders!

Take a moment to watch the cardboard testimony

We both became older today

Today my son turns 16 years old yet, I age today too. How did that happen?  It's his birthday not mine and I know ,as well as others who have gone before me, that my son turning 16 is a milestone for the parent as much as it is for child. This means that there are two official years left for which I will sign medical release forms and permission slips. I had him at 18 years of age; I look at him and think to myself how insufficient I truly was at that age. Now, I'm 34 and still feel that I'm not sufficient enough to provide him with all that he needs. I look to the One who is sufficient and pray  that my son will see that too.  Our struggles and moments of anguish feel like eternity at times. Moments when there are smiles and he allows me to hug him  are rare. For all the moments, birthdays, tears and joys they add up to the sum of 16 years. In the next 16 years he will establish his life, perhaps marry and know the feeling of holding a tiny little life in his arms. I chuckle at this final thought, will he in the next 16 years understand that which he now claims to not understand? Will he have his answers to the "why mom" questions that he throws at me every time the answer is no?  Will he look back and say thank you for being so "mean"? Amidst the candles and the cake these questions swirl in my mind.....I guess I'll let have to let you know in 16 years what the answers are to these questions.

TO MY END

I find myself struggling to raise you

But am determined to fight to my end

I find you are going through your growing pains

And I pray for growth through the pain

At times we smile and laugh

Reminisce when your small hands once fit mine

And I long for those days to my end

Now your arms are long and you grasp

For freedom not yet ready

So I pull you back and I trust to my end

One day you will walk in a different direction

Your life to make your own

Yet my love for you will always be

And I’ll be here to my end.

Happy Birthday Emmanuel!

Nature Vs. Nurture-Adoption conclusion

I woke up this morning and blogged in my mind, is that normal? I haven't blogged since I returned from visiting my birth son's family so, here I am at 5:36 a.m. ready to write. First, being able to visit with my birth son's family truly was an incredible gift we all were given. I felt like I had won the golden ticket and was able to see what many birth mom's don't get to see, the inner workings of their birth child and a week in their lives. With all that said my birth son's Mom and I had a running joke between us throughout the week based on the theory of Nature vs. Nurture. In way layman's terms-those that live in the camp of Nature tend to believe that most of who you are is predetermined by your DNA. Those that live in the camp of Nurture claim it is your surroundings that make you who you are. I happily set my tent up in between both camps and for a very good reason I'll have you know! For the week that I was there I observed my birth son doing things that had nothing to do with his surroundings but were very much associated to the biological side of the family. For example, breathing...I'm kidding. I really did see that and so did his Mom. I also observed certain things about him that had everything to do with the way he has been raised and made a list. For example, when I heard him playing music he wrote I knew that was nature. When I heard him play music with his bodily functions I knew that was nurture. Throughout the week I would so humbly point out which qualities were nurture and which qualities were nature. His mom did find it amazing that anything crude and rude came from nurture while good grades, musical talent, and politeness came from nature. Truth be told I did see things in his personality that were starkly resemblant of my side of the family and believe that our hipcode (DNA) not only attributes to our physical appearances but can also attribute to certain aspects of our personality! Yet, what I also believe and ultimately the reason for which I chose adoption is how you are nurtured, your environment absolutely influences who you are and who you will be. Yes we are born with certain color eyes ,perhaps certain allergies and even certain personality traits but, all that is just the stuff you're born with and does not necessarily define who you are or who you will be. We can look into our own lives and see how our surroundings have impacted us. I can also see how my birth son's family has impacted him and for that I am thankful!


p.s. while I was blogging my husband walks into the room and says " are you blogging!" to which I replied "No" ( especially since he is being so kind to take the kids to school in order to let me sleep in echm echm). Then he said " don't lie to me I see on your screen it says platanosandpoochie"( poochie is a slang we use for the word flatulance). I told you he's a crazy mexican!

My friend, my birth son's Mom.

The past few days I've been privileged and blessed with the honor of visiting my birth son and his family. It has been the most comfortable and completing experience for us all. My birth sons mom and I are friends first and moms second. I cherish her friendship and cherish her as my birth sons Mom. Earlier today she and I shared with my sister the story of how they came to adopting and how I came to placing my birth son for adoption. Just listening to each others stories and how beautifully we were intertwined left me in awe. I love my birth sons mom. She has an easy laugh, caring eyes and a warmth about her. She is an excellent mother and I appreciate her as a person. Over the course of this visit we have spent hours just talking about children, marriage, and life in general. This visit has definitely drawn us closer to each other. The friendship allows something in this experience that delicately upholds us all and that is trust. Trust in God first because without Him this would have never been, and trust in each other to uphold what has been so beautifully formed. Walking around this friendship is a young man whom we both love deeply. She said it perfectly today, for the love we both feel for him we gladly oblige, we gladly share, and we gladly love. It is perfect and I rarely use that word to describe anything, but in this circumstance it is appropriate. In fact, she and I have decided to write a book together about our experience and how this adoption has truly knitted us. Amazing? Yes.

One night a Mommy: Part 3

I wanted my son to know that his parents ( Adoptive Parents) were there for him from the very beginning. So, I invited his mom to go with me for the remainder of my Dr's visits. She was able to hear the heartbeat, she was able to see the ultrasound, and both his parents were in the delivery room with me when he was born. I did this for him, I wanted him to know they held him from the moment he was born, which they did. It was joy and tears when he was born. He was this perfect little brown baby boy. He had so much hair, just like E-man had when he was born. I asked for him to be in my room for the one night I would be in the hospital. The hospital had written down on my chart that this baby was being placed for adoption so they couldn't understand my wanting him in the room. I guess looking back now, they were probably more accustomed to closed adoptions where the baby is whisked away and kept separate from the birth mom, I'm not sure. So, for one night I was his mommy. The next morning his mom and dad showed up to the hospital and I was again so joyful over the fact that this couple I had grown to love were going to be the ones to raise my son. She sat with me in the room while making phone calls announcing the baby had been born. Then, the tears welled up and the previous nights pain hit me again. She lovingly put the baby down , held my hand and said" You know, I will be able to tell him that you wept over this." When we all left the hospital they put him in the car and I waved goodbye as I went back to the home I was staying in. The following 3 days were very painful and out of it I wrote three poems. One of which I will post. I saw them the following Sunday at church and we sat together. I held him in my arms as I had the other night, but this time I held him as his birth mom. I knew I was holding my birth son and it was okay. A gentleman from the church came over and put his arms around his mom and I and said "Congratulations to you both!" How perfect was that! We held a dedication ceremony and a couple of weeks later I flew back to Arizona, with E-man in my arms.

The legacy of a Birth mom

Somewhere out there is a woman
Whose heart is thinking of you
She thinks of you everyday
Believe me I know this is true
When she found out she was with child
She had to face reality
knowing she couldn't raise you
She had to face other options you see

Abortion was not the answer
how could she ever kill you
So adoption became her answer
Yet she needed God's strength
to see her through

The thought of letting you go
Haunted her day and night
Yet despite of her pain
She knew that this was right
Don’t think she didn’t love you, didn’t want you, didn’t care
Letting you go was the hardest thing she’s ever had to bear
Her love for you was painful
Yet she hopes one day you’ll see
Because of all her love for you
She was able to set you free

Part 2: meeting my sons parents.

I knew early on in the adoption process that I wanted an "Open adoption". I couldn't imagine going through life not knowing what my son looked like or him not knowing me. What I was hoping for was the privilege of peeking through the windows every now and then to see how he was doing. I had no expectations of what that would look like, I would have been content with a photo or a letter. I remember going to a restaurant to meet with potential parents for my son. I vividly remember walking into the restaurant and seeing this smiling couple. The husband seemed very nice and his wife had such warm and caring eyes. Without even knowing them, I knew that who I was meeting was my son's parents. I can't explain even now how I knew,except to say that Providence had a complete role in it. I was very young and lacked so much wisdom yet I knew from the moment that I met them, they were the ones who would raise my baby. I left the restaurant sure ,yet wanting to see them again. We met again a couple more times and each time I left being reassured that yes they were the ones. We met at McDonald's while their first adopted child and my first born played in the play area. I knew I would be telling them what I think they already knew, that yes this baby I was carrying in my belly would be the child they'd carry in their arms. I told them both and we wept together. She held my hand and told me that they had already decided that they wanted to help me whether I was going to place the baby for adoption or not. My son's Mom and I really found a kinship that has grown over the years. I trusted them with my most precious son and now 13 years later they are trusting me with their precious son by allowing my family and I to stay with them for a week and visit. Talk about a "little peek" into his life. Never would I have imagined how far back the curtain would be pulled and how much our lives would become so sweetly intertwined.
Click here for part 3!

The Scarlett Letter A of Adoption

I'm a birth mom, which means I placed a child for adoption. It is an awesome open adoption and I'll write more about that tomorrow. Right now though I am backtracking a bit and the reason I wanted to write these "mini blogeries" ( blog+series) is because in less than a week I will be visiting my birth son ( the son I placed for adoption) and his family. Again, I will write more about that tomorrow. Today I want to talk about the experience of my adoption from the angle of a culture in which adoption is not viewed upon well. Being that I am Hispanic I faced quite an opposition to my decision to place my baby for adoption. It was an already difficult decision to make, but add in the fact that my family and most of my Hispanic friends viewed it as a form of abandonment. I struggled with my own cultural experiences where if you had 10 kids and a 1 bedroom home, you all just slept on the floor! The oxymoron in this though is that abortion would have been completely acceptable and perhaps even the " more responsible" thing to do. I was too young to have another baby and I was not financially nor emotionally equipped to provide what was needed. So, it wasn't so much that I admitted those things, it was more the fact that I didn't choose an abortion. Isn't that strange? How can you give your baby away? Yet "how can you kill your baby?" didn't necessarily come out of any one's lips. Perhaps it is easier if you don't think about it, I'm not sure. For me, choosing to place my baby for adoption meant that I was crossing a cultural pickett line and it was very difficult. Most of my family didn't quite understand what good would come from that decision. It took my Mom about 7 years after the fact to finally say, you made the right choice. Some of my family still today views me as less of a person for the decision I made. I'll be honest, I'm completely okay with that because, I see my birth son flourishing and having the life I had hoped for him and as a birth mom I proudly wear my scarlet letter A, it means that I chose life and life more abundantly for my son.
click here for part two!

a little loose tooth, a big revelation

So....Samuel (my 6 year old) started growing a permanent tooth behind all of his teeth and I panicked a bit. I wore braces for 5 years when I was little because my teeth were so bad and worried that Samuel may also have problems with his teeth. WELL, this morning he kept saying one of his teeth was hurting and when I checked it we found it was loose! Yes, that means this baby tooth is getting ready to get out and his other tooth will be able to move in. I'm relieved and yet this was an example of what can happen at certain times of our lives. Sometimes there are parts of our lives that are growing and developing without the necessary space alloted for that growth. It almost seems impossible for a change to take place and then it happens, room for that growth. Just like Samuels' little tooth, some things have to go in order for the more permanent things to stay. Let's face it, at times it can feel like " pulling teeth" ( parampamching) and yet I believe the key here is to allow things to occur in their time, rather than rush them. The bible speaks so much of God's timing and today in this sweet little mouth I saw a perfect example of that.

When a boo is a yay

So... I'm watching my Cards tonite ( Cardinals...yes I call them by their nickname... we're cool like that). They played beautifully tonite and it felt sweet because ,if you read a couple of blogs ago,I was able to attend a game yet that ONE TIME I was able to go watch the game live, the Cardinals stunk and Peyton Manning served it to them big. But oh with the Cards playing so tight tonite (24-17) nothing was sweeter than the jeering of Giants fans as Eli Manning got served so hard that even Peyton was hurting! Which got me thinking, the booing of the crowd was music to my ears because it meant that the Cards either made a touchdown...interception....or some other spectacular play. The booing, which most of the time carries a negative connotation actually meant something positive. As in our own lives, there are times when the "crowd" will boo at a decision that we make, or a belief that we hold to and rather than view it as a negative; it at times means that the booing simply opposes them specifically and not necessarily that our decision is wrong. I can look into my own life and see that the road less traveled has often times included naysayers and yet, to me it was effervescently clear that it was the Way.So, keep booing you road-usually traveled travelers, it's only a cheer to me ;)

the currency for time is time

On saturday Night I attended, for the first time, a drag strip event. It was amazing to watch these cars zoom down the strip at speeds that you only see in movies. I was there to watch my Uncle Dwight drive his car down the strip. Cars lined up behind the strip waiting to take their turn, like an extreme version of a disney ride experience. Their run on the strip lasts about 10 seconds yet the idea of getting to run a car at 130, 140 makes those 10 seconds a concentrated dose of time. When the cars were in line at the drag they were probably waiting for awhile, exchanging hours of effort for 10 seconds of exhiliration. In a sense time becomes the currency for time. Although at that high currency exchange rate I just hope that I use my currency wisely.