What Makes Me A Christian?

I have been observing the world around me, reflecting.
I decided an evaluation was necessary. I do this often and highly recommend it to others.
I asked myself this question, "What makes me a Christian?", and the obvious answer is because I am a Christ follower.

What does that mean?
Really?
Does that mean I must live a perfect life?
A life without sinning, sadness, anger, fear?

According to some around me, what makes a person a Christian is perfection. I must be perfect. I can not stray from the path in the slightest. Any infraction will cause me to lose my salvation and be condemned to Hell and damnation. That's pretty harsh. Things have been going on in my life that have caused me much sadness, fear and anger, does this make me less of a Christian?
There was a time when I wanted to die and now I am eager to live for Christ. I laugh a lot and but sometimes I am sad. I used to hold things in and try not to lash out in anger.
Many may say that perhaps my spiritual life is faltering and I need to work on it. Others may say that due to the circumstances that are surrounding me, my recent emotional ups and downs are normal for any human being Christian and Non-Christian.

Jesus Christ himself showed anger when the moneychangers were at the temple selling thier wares. He was appalled and said, "This is a house of Prayer" He knocked over the tables displaying the merchandise and told them to beat it(paraphrased) Matthew 21:11-13

If my anger is justified and due to some type of injustice then I suppose I can still be a Christian. If my anger is rooted from nothing, no reason at all then there is a problem. Being angry for the sake of being angry, bitter or resentful is not really Christ-like. The Bible shows me that Jesus was sad at times too. He cried just before His crucifixion. He cried when His friend Lazarus died. I think my emotions do not make me less of a Christian. A Christian will be angry at the abuse of others, injustice, discrimination and then do something about it.

What makes me a Christian is if I am truly saddened by the circumstances around me, The War, Darfur, child abuse,death.
What makes me Christian is if I, in some way or another to the best of my abilities do something about it, pray, donate time or money, protect, nurture or mourn.

The fact that things around me get me angry should not be judged. The fact that I cry because I am sad does not mean I have no hope left or that I no longer trust in God. It makes me more human. It makes me understand my world and the people in it even more, having gone through similar circumstances that cause certain emotions. I, personally am not edified or comforted by anyone who claims they never went through any drama in thier life and life is nothing but perfect for them. I find comfort in knowing people around me have gone through what I have gone through and survived.
I find it abnormal that a person can walk around self righteous,"perfect" without sin that attitude is just creepy. "Judge not lest thou be judged." "He who has no sin cast the first stone"

This is my favorite Bible story. Condensing the story; A woman was about to be stoned to death for adultery and they tried to justify this action but Jesus said, "He Who hath no sin cast the first stone." Go ahead if your perfect cast the stone. Of course no one did.

Just some thoughts

Teachers Vent at The Diner

I went to the diner this morning. yes, after 20 days at home I went out. I can't take the Shut- in Life I thought I could so I don't think I am Agoraphobic after all. Anyway Hubby, Jake and I went to our favorite diner in B*y R*dge and at the table next to ours sat three miserable women. They talked so loud (or is it they spoke so loudly)as Brooklyn girls usually do (including myself) They talked about Bush and how he should be punished harshly. I'm not going to even tell you what they said, it was really bad.

They talked about husbands and all four women compared themselves to Kizzy from Roots. Nice I said sarcastically. Then they started talking about teaching and I said to myself "Oh God they're teachers!" All the while I am trying to distract myself and play with Jake but even he was annoyed by these women and kept turning back and giving them a death stare. His famous grill. They talked about their goal being that when their students see them in the hallway they should run in fear. They laughed. I got nauseaus. One of them talked about a F'n kid who bit her and how she had to go to the hospital to get tested, you know the girl was latina, so she could have had A.I.D.S That's when I asked as loudly as I could "Jacob quieres mas jugo?" (Jacob would you like some more juice?) They didn't even flinch. I continued eating my breakfast and tried to talk to my husband and whispered in spanish - that the women beside us are all miserable hags who teach helpless victims...I mean children. As always Hubby remained cool, calm and collected and tried to get me to calm down. I love him.

They talked about how much they hated their jobs and on and on blah blah blah. I wanted to tell them they did not realize how blessed they are so they should stop griping and if you are that miserable then quit and give the children of our future a darn break.

Teachers all gripe. We did. We griped about Curriculum reports, progress reports, faculty meetings, parents but rarely about the children and if the child was a problem we griped about how help wasn't coming fast enough.There's always that child that gets under your skin but we were never cruel like these teachers were/are But I can proudly say that I loved teaching and my friends who teach love it as well and respect the children they teach.

Then I went to B*st B*y with hubby to check out some computers. He is really having a hard time with them lately. He has a new flat screen and some B*se speakers and a new keyboard but the motherboard has to be replaced. We saw this cool PC from H*wlitt P*ckard . It was touch screen for about $2,000 It was very Minority Report but it's one piece monitor is attached to the system so if one thing fails you pretty much have to return the whole thing for repair. What was funny was that a computer guy from the store walks over to us and asked if we wanted to know more about it so my hubby asked a few computer Geek questions and the guy had a hard time answering. Then I asked about the sound and he said, "I'll show you."He went to Media Center and then he was lost. I said ,"Play music" and pointed to the option that read "play music" but he ignored me after several attempts and a lot of patience from hubby and I he touches (remember touch screen) "play music" but there is no sound. I reach across and touch the volume because I noticed it was on mute. He said, "no, that's not it." I said, "yes it's on mute see?" pointing to the speaker icon with the red circle and slash across, you know which one... you know the international symbol for "no sound". "No, that's not it." He says this time he is getting annoyed with me. I'm angry now and realize it's because I'm a girl and then I say one last time, "Yeah, It is on mute!" I get an elbow nudge from my hubby along with a smile, "Dejalo" (just leave it be) Another computer guy passes and sees the song title on the screen and says I love that song rev it up. The guy says he's having trouble with the sound and unplugs something from the computer while enthusiastic computer guy is investigating the computer. He says, "It's on mute." and touches the sound icon. " I say, "I'm going to go look at pretty things now because I'm a girl." and walk away.

Wrap it Up!

Tomorrow we celebrate Jakes b-day. My hubby and I got him some cool gifts.

Yay!

Fun!

Today I sent my youngest to get some gift wrapping. "How much do you need?," I asked. Then, I realized that I was shelling out money (and I'm not cheap) for something that will be ripped up in about five seconds and then discarded. What a waste! Especially since Jake is not going to remember the cute blue dog wrapping when he is grown up. He'll probably remember the gift but seriously now. It cost how much for wrapping four or five bucks? Then there's the cute bow, then the cute bag to put the cute gift wrapped in the cute paper that will go unnoticed by the cute kid.

The total will probably be somewhere like seven to ten bucks. Ten bucks can feed some people in some third world country. I hate that phrase "third world" but I digress.

Jake is not going to dress himself with the wrapping paper. He will not use it for shelter and he will not be nourished by it. What I'm trying to say is that he doesn't need the wrapping paper. It's a luxury, more for the grown ups than the child. The child just cares about what's under the wrapping. Gift wrapping is a waste. I have gone to plenty of parties and people ooh and ah about wrapping. The gift wrapping industry must be a money making machine and whoever came up with the whole colored ribbon held together with a staple is a genius and set for life, he or she along with his/her families...generations unless we can come up with something better.

I am not Silas Marner,(famous cheapskate) I will go all out for wrapping on Christmas because nothing says Christmas like shiny red, green, silver and gold wrapping. Ha!

I didn't have much growing up and when I had my first child, there was no baby shower or fuss. I remember getting a gift for my first born and it was the cutest outfit wrapped in the most precious paper. Cherubs all over the place, cute dimply plump ones, simply adorable. I was so touched that someone outside of my hubby and I acknowledged my baby and wanted to express their joy in her birth by giving a gift to my baby girl, and took the time to search for an outfit for her and then search for the perfect wrapping that I cut a piece of the wrapping out and saved it. I still have it. Really I do.

I save all my gift bags too. After saying "thank you" for my gift I always say something about the wrapping sometimes even before I open the gift I'll tell the giver of the gift that they will probably see the bag again because I will reuse it and I have a closet filled with gift bags. Some are so cute and some generic I use them as lunch bags or leftover bags for when Sofi or Debbie come over and take some food home with them. I used to meticulously unwrap gifts so that I could save the wrapping but many around me would grow impatient with my frugalness (is that a word?)

When did the whole gift wrapping thing start anyway? I have searched the internet for the answer to that question and have come up with nothing and I am a good internet researcher so if you know the answer, please share. Am I being too cheap? Am I getting too old? Am I being ridiculous because I haven't slept since the day before yesterday?

Im not sayin'. I'm just sayin'.

Rest in Peace Mama Sofia

The day of the burial was bright and sunny and we were all donned with the appropriate black. Keeping in mind my mother in laws humble nature, I wore a black skirt and minimal jewelry and makeup. The service would begin at the church where she congregated all her life. The service was scheduled for ten so hubby and I were on the road by nine thirty it was a good fifteen to twenty minutes from the hotel. When we left the town of Aguadilla and drove into the small town of Moca, we realized that the traffic was bumper to bumper!!!!

Today of all days there seemed to be hundreds of cars. Because we were in a small town there was no honking, flipping the bird or cussing, so unlike your average traffic demeanor in Brooklyn. Drivers just seemed to drive slowly without making a fuss but my stomach was aching at the thought that we might miss the church service. Traffic was unusual around these parts so neighbors came out of their houses and stared at the traffic, puzzled. The cows stood as close to the barbed wire that protected them from the gravel road as they could. They also knew this amount of traffic was unusual. It was no help that every turn that we had to make was preceded by the same row of cars and then it finally dawned on me. "Could all these people be headed for the church too?", I asked and hubby admitted, "This could all be for Mama."

So we calmed down and sure enough when we reached our destination the rows of cars were seeking parking spots. The church parking lot was filled to capacity and neighbors were signaling all other drivers to use their driveways, which they offered up so readily. So we parked in a strangers lot.

Small towns:)

There was music blaring as we approached the church. Later I found out it was Mamas favorite hymn Beyond the Clouds-Mas Halla Del Sol.

This was a personal request for her funeral. I also found out she paid for her entire burial and had her outfit especially made by her daughter Miriam. When we arrived before the doors of the church, Mamas casket was before us and was ready to be brought in.

Amazing Grace now played, as my hubby and the other late arrivers marched slowly and reverently behind her until we reached available seating.

She was placed before the altar, casket opened and the pastor began to speak the usual funeral speak. There were women dressed in white who stood guard on each side of the casket and every now and then would change guard with other women who were sitting at the pews also dressed in white.

Sofia's grandaughter, hubby's niece, Johanny read the geneology and some anecdotes about Mama Sofia. There were tears, lots of them. Then the Pastor called each adult child of Sofia by name, to approach the casket, and say their final goodbyes.

But before that my hubby, the only pastor in the family shared some thoughts and biblical verses, then he reminded his siblings not to forget their father who still needed them. Father and Mama were divorced after he tried to cut her arm off with a machete, that'll do it. The scar ran from her wrist to just below her elbow. Why mention this? Because, about seven years ago, he gave his heart to Christ and has been a changed man ever since.

On her death bed Mama asked him for forgiveness and he broke down and sobbed like a baby saying that he should be the one asking for forgiveness. They both cried and held each other for a while.

Many of the children had not spoken to their father for years because of his abusive nature and so when the pastor asked Jose (the father) to stand by his wife's casket, it was a bit awkward. The pastor started with the oldest son, Jose jr. and his wife Maria and thier four children, Maritza, Lizbet, Chono and Macho (yes macho). They went forward and said their goodbyes with much tears.

Each of the seventeen brothers and sister, (the seventeen surviving adult children of Mama Sofia) and their families were called, some took the time to embrace their father as a sign that he was forgiven and he embraced them back and held his head humbly down, you could sense that he was very appreciative of the show of affection while at the same time very ashamed of his past actions.

When it was our turn...Johanny read, "Angel and his wife Debra. They have three children Sofia, Debbie and Angelica and their grandson Jacob." With that, we arose from the pew where we sat, waiting to say our final goodbyes and I lost it and started sobbing.

Hubby and I walked hand in hand to Mama, who laid in peace. I touched her ice cold hands expecting to feel warmth for some reason, but their was no life and so obviously no warmth in the hands that consoled me in the past and who held them towards her in prayer. The warm hands that held my three children and my grandson, her great grandson. The same warm hands that embroidered little outfits for my girls and made them cheese pastellillos when they were hungry. These hands were so cold and lifeless.

We returned to our seats and the service continued. Her great grandaughter, a soprano, sang ha hymn. She sounded like an angel. It was beautiful.

The casket was closed and then rolled out of the church and into the hearst and driven away to the burial site.

There was a caravan of over forty cars with just family not including friends and even the Mayor of Moca, (her hometown) The caravan was led by a police motorcade courtesy of the four grandchildren who worked for the police department. Her favorite song blasted from the car especially equipped with huge speakers to play her favorite hymn as we drove across town to the cemetary.

This time as we passed homes neighbors came out and held their heads down with reverance. There was mention of her death in the papers because she had made history as the only woman who bore twenty children, seventeen still living in the town of Moca.

At the burial sight, I stood amazed at the beauty that surrounded her. She was to be buried on a small hill , lush with bright green perfectly manicured grass overlooking beautiful mountains. Among the dignified tears were birds singing and a nice cool breeze.

My hubby was a pall bearer and seeing him carrying his mother was touching and I know it must have been very difficult for him.

The next day hubby and I returned, alone, to say our final goodbyes.

He spoke to Mama and I stepped back to give him his space and time with her. The flowers arranged on her grave were beginning to fade and dry. There was a vase of flowers that toppled over. Hubby picked it up and placed it on the foot of the gravesight began to straighten the ribbons containing the names of the loved ones. He cried again and said goodbye.

He is not sleeping much these days and tells me he has a big hole in his heart. I understand the loss of a parent so I know what he is talking about. How different the world suddenly becomes. It is so different and the emptiness is so obvious. I tell him that he'll never... not miss her but the pain does get easier to deal with but for now it is still very raw and it will take time.

I know the holidays to come will be hard and every milestone that he cannot share with his mother will be bittersweet. Time does ease the pain but it doesnt heal it but God certainly does provide us with a peace that passes all understanding and an enormous strength to see us through.