The tree trimmers were set to come on Tuesday to prepare our house for painting. Long before the COVID-19 hit, Mike and I had already picked out colors for the exterior; but when the world changed, we stopped dead in our tracks. Now we have another concern, so we’ve have postponed painting the house once again. Since the stay-at-home order, we have been having breakfast, lunch and dinner at home. In late April, while we were having breakfast, Mike noticed a hummingbird sitting in her nest. Just a few feet away from our patio door, the little bird carefully wove the smallest nest in our bougainvillea. Believe me, this was one of the most exciting events we witnessed during this shut in!
Hadassah
I named her Hadassah, and from a careful distance I took several pictures of the soon-to-be mother. Mike rescheduled the house painting but forgot about Hadassah. The tree trimmer showed up during our dinner (we eat early). I had just swallowed a bite of my dinner when I looked out the kitchen window and saw Mike motioning to the tree trimmers about the bougainvillea. I waited until the tree guy left and explained to Mike that we could not allow the hummingbird’s nest to be destroyed. We changed all our plans because this little mama was going to hatch some tiny mini-hummingbirds. I was delighted that Mike agreed to protect the mama bird.
Me, Sonja and Mikos
Two
As a mother of two grown adults, I will drop everything if my kids need me. I am constantly praying for my family and they both know they can come to me, especially for spiritual guidance. Of course by that I mean in a Christian sense, with God as my guide. Whenever they have something heavy on their hearts, I direct them to the Bible for answers. I no longer take the initiative and give definite answers without praying first. I’m very guarded about this because I have learned the hard way. If you respond, without prayer guidance, and if it does not workout you deserve the blame. Mothers have a burden for their children, no matter what age they are; we are spiritually connected to them forever. The Holy Spirit always reveals to us moms when or kids are hurting.
The Spiritual Bond
A mother is spiritually connected to her children for the rest of their lives. I don’t care how old your child is, you will always have that bond. I was never an overprotective “helicopter mom” because both of our children were too strong-willed to put up with that behavior. I had to use the back roads to find out what our kids were up to. One of my famous tactics was to snoop in their rooms. If they were up to no good, I was going to find out. This was the time that I was vacillating from one Christian church to another. I felt that I was being led by God. Boy, was I wrong about that! During this time I had to learn to trust God and pray. Sometimes I not only prayed up a storm but a hurricane. That’s all I knew to do. God was slowly developing me into a matriarch and my backbone was finally being formed.
Prayer Warrior
I became a prayer warrior. Two things happen when your kids go sideways: 1. You go into battle for them; and 2. you give in and watch them fall into the abyss of life. When a mother prays, things happen in the atmosphere. Her prayers reach the throne of God. It’s the bond that connects a mother and child because the mother will forever pray for that child. When a mother prays, she does not look at the situation as the world does; but she sees her child whole. Saint Monica never stopped praying for her son St. Augustine. He would never have become one of the greatest bishops, let alone a saint in the Roman Catholic Church. God has a plan for all of our children, and a mother’s job is to pray it through (Jeremiah 1:5). Our work is never complete because they will always need our prayers. I thank God that He directed us to the proper therapist to help us with our kids because I needed help as well. These actions were all led by prayer.
Helicopter Moms
Jenny, Maddie and Will
Helicopter moms are well-meaning, but they do not understand the damage they are causing. Forcing your kids to join clubs so that it will look good on transcripts is not teaching your child to be a volunteer. Teach your child to love God first and everything else will fall into place. For years we made sandwiches for Skid Row in my home. A young man helped out just one time, but it was one of the few times I took a photograph. Years later I posted the photo on Facebook. By this time the young man was filling out college applications, so his mother called me and wanted me to state that he was a regular volunteer. I told her that I would not lie, but clearly she could. Helicopter moms take drastic measures to see that their kids don’t miss out. They push their kids to the edge of a high cliff and wonder why they fall. Look at the mess those Hollywood parents got themselves into. They got caught, but I guarantee there are other parents who are still using back doors to get their kids into the finest colleges. It never pays to lie. One thing will always remain true: lies are always exposed, and the truth still sets us free.
Sonja, Jacob and Lucas
Grandma’s Role
Grandmothers are seasoned mothers. When our children get married, we must cut the cord. The Bible does not say that a mother and child become one, but it does state that a husband and wife become one. We may not always agree about how our grandchildren are being raised, but my advice is to leave the parenting to the parents (I’m still learning that). Mike has kept me from so many confrontations with our grown children about their parenting. He is my filter. Many times I have said, “Can you believe your son/daughter?” Mike’s words are always the same, “Leave it alone.” He’s right. I want to become the grandmother who leaves behind the legacy of a prayer warrior. I want my grandchildren to understand that they, too, are part of my everyday prayers. Part of my raison d’être in life is to pray for my family. I am a normal mom who loves her family. Hadassah loves her family too.
Mother’s Day Prayer
Dear Lord, We pray for all mothers. May we always praise and thank you for the gift of motherhood. We were chosen by You to become parents, may we never cause strife between our children. Lord keep peace in our families. I pray for families who are not in speaking terms, heal their broken hearts and make them whole once again. Even though it may not be a mothers fault, allow her to offer peace by apologizing. One kind act of love covers much pain. Amen.
If you look at the icon from My Catholic Roots Are Showing you will notice that it’s a fruitless, bare tree. When I first started this blog three years ago, I wanted to concentrate on the roots of a tree, and, at the time, this image was one of the few trees with roots available. The blog is growing and yielding good fruit. In a subtle manner it’s reaching out to others and spreading the Word of God. So I decided it was time to add fruit to the tree and to spread more seeds of love (this project is still in the works).
The first crop
I did not want just any fruit tree; I wanted a tree that produced an abundance of seeds. The pomegranate is what I had in mind. I remember when eating this fruit as a child, and our mom would always warn us not to get the juice on our clothes because it would leave a permanent stain. Though it’s a laborious task to remove the seeds, I love to eat this fruit. The pomegranate is rich in vitamin C, potassium and fiber. Now when it’s in season I add it to our smoothies.
The pomegranate is mentioned many times in the Bible. I was curious about the number of seeds each pomegranate contained and was pleasantly surprised that there can be anywhere from 165 to 1370, but the average number of seeds is 613. This is a symbolic number and one of the reasons it is consumed by Jews during Rosh Hashanah. The Jews believe that it symbolizes fruitfulness. There are 613 commandments in the Torah (recorded in first five books of the Hebrew Scriptures). Though it is a misconception that all pomegranates have 613 seeds, the rabbis may have had some spiritual revelation from God because this is the average number.
Sowing Good Seed
I always pray that my blog is sowing good seeds. I want to share the love of God to whoever has an ear to hear. In the New Testament the Parable of the Sower is mentioned in three different Gospels. This is repeated in the Bible because the Lord wants this message to be deep-seated in our spirit. On our path to salvation the good seeds are visible, but when we sidestep and get off the path, we fall into the cracks and like the seeds that are eaten by the birds, we get eaten by the world. We can represent that seed that falls on rocky ground when we allow others to distract our direction. This would keep us from developing solid roots. We can be the seed that falls among the thorns; even if we realize that we are in sin, we continue on this path. Or we can choose to be the seed that falls on rich soil, yielding a hundredfold. God gave us a free will; the path we choose is paved with good seed, but it is our choice where our seed falls. Did you know that one tomato seed can yield 200 tomatoes? This is what good seed can produce.
Matthew 13:8-9New American Bible (Revised Edition) (NABRE)
8 But some seed fell on rich soil, and produced fruit, a hundred or sixty or thirtyfold. 9 Whoever has ears ought to hear.”
Sowing Bad Seed
Bad seed can also yield a hundredfold. Once you open the door to sin you have rolled out the welcome mat. These seeds are like weeds; no deep roots but they spread fast. The Devil is out there spreading these bad seeds, and, as the master manipulator, He makes you feel good about sin. The problem with this bad seed is that it is only for a short season. Before you realize how deep you are in, it may take more than a simple prayer to get you out of your tangled web. This is where we intercessors come in; we come alongside you to lift you out of the pit you dug. We know the plans that God has for our loved ones, and that even if your seed has fallen on the rocky path you can still be redirected into the arms of your Maker. God loves all of us, not just people who serve Him. He especially loves the people who have been down that dusty road that leads to a dead end. In life there are good and bad role models.
Infamous Bad Seed
If you look to Hollywood for direction, you will be mesmerized with their looks, the glamor, and their wealth; but what they do not show you is their empty hearts. They work from the outside; looking beautiful is what has gained them fame, but they are shallow souls serving themselves as demigods. Of course not everyone in Hollywood falls under this gamut, but the vast majority do. Role models is their pseudo name, and, sadly, they reach the foolish masses. They tell you who to vote for, who to like and who to follow. Hollywood is responsible for sowing so much bad seed that their garden reeks of defecation.
Ephesians 4:14
14 We must no longer be children, tossed to and fro and blown about by every wind of doctrine, by people’s trickery, by their craftiness in deceitful scheming.
This is not the only place where bad seeds are sown; any parent can tell you that sending your kids to college can cultivate bad seeds that will spread like wild weeds. This, too, is a tactic of evil. Higher learning was meant to prepare and direct a student in the career that is best suited for them, but somehow along the way, many seeds of discontent are spread in the minds of the youth. If these students are not grounded in God, they will fall for every wind of doctrine. The Word of God is our guideline for living, and Jesus is our perfect role model. Jesus spoke to his followers in parables to help them understand life’s lessons. To the shepherds, it was the Parable of the Lost Sheep; to the farmers, it was the Parable of the Sower. This is not a convoluted message. It’s simple and straightforward. We are the ones that complicate the matters of God. All He wants to do is to love us and to teach us how to love one another. The Lord wants to develop us interiorly; spiritual growth starts within your soul.
My rose garden
Our Garden
We do not have a huge yard, but every year Mike plants a small garden. I get enough tomatoes for plenty of salads and once a year I make my own marinara sauce. I have fresh mint for our daily smoothies, and we always have fresh rosemary. Aside from my garden we grow roses; during spring and throughout fall I have fresh flowers that fill our home with the scent of roses.
My Quarantine best friend Prudie
Lockdown
I went out the other day to pick up some special, topical lotion for my face. Other than picking up fast food, this was a real outing. I was running two errands, the cleaners and the dermatologist. My neighbor Adele made me a mask, so I was well prepared. I just missed the dermatologist by five minutes. When I got back into the car, I realized that the mask was getting my glasses all fogged up. Because I was struggling to take it off while driving, I hit the curb. When I got home I immediately told Mike about the incident. “I hit the curb on my side, it wasn’t my fault, I was trying to take my mask off.” Mike did not waste any time to investigate the matter. He came in and said, “Everything looks fine, are you sure you hit the curb?” Then he went out again to check the passenger’s side; sure enough I told him the wrong side. My poor Prius’ rim was pretty scratched up. When Mike came back inside he said, “You’re not ready to go out yet!” I’ve been cooped up so long it was a wonder that I can remember how to drive, and the fact that my cat Prudie is my new best friend is getting scary! Please, Lord, let this be over soon!
Have you ever experienced something so traumatic that it changed the course of your life? We were seven in total, four girls and three boys. My oldest brother was Robert. He was hard on us girls, and many times came across as disparaging. It took years for me to figure out that he was looking out for us and had stepped into the role of a father. Like a real father he was strict and always gave stern advice. Robert had great discernment and, as much as I did not want to hear his counsel, he was usually right. He hated that I joined MECHA, a radical, separatist Hispanic organization. I fought him on this and became so involved that I was elected president. In college the group advocated indoctrination about what was owed to us and how we needed our rights to be heard. We were the Mexican version of the Black Panthers, and just as radical. My brother was right again because the organization spit me out like a hot pepper after dating outside our race.
The combine harvester, the machine Robert operated
Robert’s Illness
Robert was born with a gastric intestinal disorder; therefore, he suffered his entire life. He was over 6′ tall but rail thin; due to his illness he could never gain weight. Our mother would take him to a specialist at UCLA medical center for answers, but in Robert’s case no surgery could correct the ongoing affliction. My brother had episodes of his illness throughout his life, some lasting for weeks. Robert was a combine harvest operator and mechanic for a farming family in the Imperial Valley. When he was twenty-four years old, Robert was drafted into the service during the war in Vietnam. He served in the army for two years, but because of a knee injury he was released from his duties. Robert loved life and enjoyed every minute that was given to him in his short life.
Transcendental Era
Robert was a newlywed when he was diagnosed with cancer. He and his wife Alice were desperately seeking answers when they were introduced to a Maharaja. They followed the guru on television. They dug deeper and purchased a book to further instruct themselves in their new beliefs. This all started with a simple quest for healing. Both Robert and Alice believed that Robert could be healed naturally. Norma, our youngest sister, shared this belief and together they would study from some thick black Maharaja book. The three of them would sit yoga-style and meditate. Norma was just as enthralled in the new-found religion, because Robert was not only her older brother but her best friend. Once she witnessed Robert levitate a foot off the ground. She said it was during meditation when her eyes were closed. When she opened them she made a sound of disbelief that broke the spell of the levitation. This was in 1981, my brother was a pot-smoking hippie, and this, peaceful, self-awareness type of religion was a great fit for him.
Our mother, on the other hand, wanted to take Robert to Mexico to try some experimental drugs for the cancer. We were all desperate to save Robert’s life. We were nominal Catholics who were not steeped into our Catholic roots. None of us knew about prayer, or how to ask God for help. Our mother’s friend told her about a holy man named Vic who could help us. This stranger was the owner of a mattress store in San Bernardino. I took my mother to the first meeting at his store. This man was gentle and God-fearing, a born-again Christian who understood the Word of God. In our first encounter both my mother and I received Jesus into our hearts (this was the era of saying the sinner’s prayer). Vic became our mentor and would make special trips to our mom’s home for Bible studies. We wanted to introduce Vic to Robert, but he and Alice were convinced that the Maharaja was the only way to God. Before his cancer metastasized Robert went on a motorcycle ride, was thrown off and broke his neck. So, in addition to the cancer, he had to deal with the pain of his broken neck. He ended up in the hospital, and the most unusual apparatus (halo) was placed around his head to alleviate the pain of his broken neck. I cannot recall how many screws were drilled into his skull to hold the “halo” in place, but I knew it was extremely painful because it was equipped with weights to stabilize his neck.
Norma
With Vic’s help Norma was coming into the light. She was told by a Christian friend that if Robert did not have Jesus in his heart he would go to hell. Years ago abrasive and insensitive comments like these were commonplace. No love or mercy was evident because that’s how people were taught. My sister took it upon herself to introduce Robert to the Christian God; Norma felt a sense of responsibility to share the “Good News” with Robert. She was a novice, a baby Christian shaking in her shoes when she arrived at the hospital. She was greeted by Alice, and the first thing she noticed was the Bible in Norma’s hands. The Bible has never been a discreet book and the title is usually in big bold gold letters on the cover. Alice did not want to have anything to do with this, so she told Robert. He asked Norma to bring the Bible to him. With the little strength he had left he threw the Bible across the room; then he asked Alice to bring their Maharaja book to him. But Norma did not give up; she and mom had a plan.
Vic
Vic was a an angel sent from heaven; he was the stranger that God sent to us to get us through this unmanageable stage of our lives. Robert was selling his RV, so Norma and mom came up with the idea for Vic to introduce himself by showing interest in the RV. The rest, as we say, is history. Vic, the angel that God commissioned, did his job and quietly disappeared. We were so grateful for his holy intervention and wanted to keep in touch with him, but it was not to be.
33 Years Old
Robert was 33 years old when the Lord took him home. As a family we all took turns to be with him at the hospital so that he would not die alone. I did not want to have anything whatsoever to do with being there when he died. I planned my shifts to make sure that I was not going to be there. The doctor had announced that Robert would not make it through the night. I told my sisters that I would watch all the kids so they could be with Robert. My sister Jo, who was pregnant, stayed with me. Morning came and, much to my chagrin, Robert made it through the night. It was our shift, so Jo and I went to the hospital. I was nervous and sick to my stomach; never in my life had I been placed in such an agonizing position. It did not take long for our brother to breathe his last. Though I was terrified to witness any death, especially his, it was meant for me to be there. This was the most beautiful experience: as he flatlined, followed by a long beep, I noticed a peaceful, beautiful look on my brother’s face; I saw the color of his body changing from grey to a muted yellow. He was home.
Robert’s Influence
Part of who I have become as a Christian is through this experience. The Lord never let go of me and, as I meandered from one Christian church to another, God has always been with me. I will never forget when mother and I visited Robert right before he succumbed to the illness. He held up two fingers and said, “This is me and Jesus. If you don’t have Him, your life is…” He mumbled several phrases but we both understood what he meant by his gestures. Robert suffered beautifully, and was the instrument for bringing us back to God.
My Prayer: Thank you for our beautiful brother Robert. Because of his suffering we all came to understand our calling. Lord, continue to use us to draw closer to You. Lord, always reveal truth so that we can clearly see what You have in store for our lives. Never allow us to compromise or make decisions without praying. Amen.
Psalm 34:2New American Bible (Revised Edition) (NABRE)
2 I will bless the Lord at all times; his praise shall be always in my mouth.