I received a phone call one recent Sunday, asking me to participate in a focus group. In the conversation, which  was brief I disclosed my cell phone number and my email address. The caller also informed me that the topics to be discussed were hot political issues. I was told that an email or text would follow with more details. The focus group was going to pay for dinner at a trendy Irvine restaurant, and also pay participants $150.

My head got really big after this phone call, as I was thinking, maybe they are reading my Blog and found it so interesting that they wanted my opinion. It did not take long for my hairdresser Misty to burst my bubble when she said, “You should be careful, it sounds like a scam.” I wanted to share with others about how “special” I was in being selected, but now a dark cloud of doubt filled my deflated mind.

I checked for any information via email or text from this group, but received no communication. I called the restaurant, and they too confirmed that nothing was scheduled. I was a little disappointed because the money would have come in handy for the upcoming trip to Israel.

I was busy cleaning the house when the phone rang the day of the scheduled meeting.  It was the focus group people calling to confirm my participation. My response was, “You mean the scam!” The lady was nervously trying to convince me that it was not a scam, and then proceeded to contact her supervisor. He told me to call the restaurant again to clear things up. I did, and it was legit.

When I arrived, I was directed to the bar to join the other participants. Yeah, I was not going to do that, I stepped outside and started to pray the Rosary. I asked God to humble me, and for Jesus to be seen through me, I also witnessed to the parking attendant. I walked back in and met some of the people. The only thing that I could find in common with some of them was that we were part of the human race. Republicans, Democrats, all mixed together, with ages ranging from a ninety year-old man, to a petite twenty-year-old young lady.

The mediator mentioned that he had an MBA from some Ivy League college, and is earning his living by collecting information, and selling it. The gathering was impressive, with video cameras and microphones set up. For some reason part of the group, myself included, thought that it was going to be a discussion on Dreamers, President Trump’s Tweets, or the great political divide. What we talked about was more community issues, like the homeless encampment along the Santa Ana River bed. One gentleman, a retired sheriff, informed us that the homeless are now referred to as displaced people. Since I have been working with the “Displaced” people for years I did have some knowledge to offer. I gleaned some information from a recent radio commentary that a priest was giving. He talked about all state hospitals being forced to close due to government cutbacks. Persons with mental disorders are now in the streets, and I know first hand that a large population of displaced are chronic addicts. The 90 year-old man added that he was employed by this type of insitutuion,  and he explained that the mental patients had a home and that their medication was monitored and controlled. Others in the group thought that it would be a huge financial burden to go back to opening mental hospitals. The sad reality is that the prisons are now housing many mentally ill persons, the population has increased from 5% to 20% within the last 25 years. The rest of the mentally ill are displaced and roaming the streets According to 2016 statistics put out by Social Solution, there are 564,708 displaced people in the U.S. Of these, according to Fact Sheet: Homelessness in California, 115,738 are living in California. We need a better solution to help displaced people, or the problem will continue to grow.

Another topic was our prison system, and the lack of rehabilitation. All but one person agreed that rehabilitation is the only avenue for parolees.

We were allowed to give an opinion on the matters discussed, we all listened and I was presently surprised as to how respectful we all were of our differences. The mediator explained that this type of forum produces the best information because people are honest in person.

The man sitting to my left  asked how we were picked for the survey.  To add to my humility, we were randomly selected because we are registered voters, not because they read my Blog.

1 Peter 5:6  

Therefore humble yourselves under the mighty hand of God, that He may exalt you at the proper time,

A few years ago, as I was driving home from Bible study, the Lord gave me a rap song. I kept repeating the lyrics so as to not forget. I got home and ran to write out the lyrics. The following morning I got up and shared with Mike about the rap song; he laughed in disbelief and continued with his workout on the treadmill.

I shared the song with several close friends and family members, and for the most part the responses were positive. My godson Marcus suggested that I submit the lyrics to a popular Christian Hip Hop group. The task of reaching this group was nearly impossible, and for months I left messages with Gotee Records, but to no avail. I prayed about it often, but but I still got no response.

I was checking my LinkedIn account, and out of the blue was the face and name of the lead singer. I immediately contacted him, and to my amazement he quickly responded with instructions as to how to get the information to him through We Transfer & Dropbox. He was kind and humble, but of course I had no clue about what he was talking about. I followed up and explained that I only had the lyrics.

At that point the few songs that I had written were not copyrighted, so I quickly did a poor man’s copyright. The poor man’s copyright is done by mailing the songs to yourself with a postmark date from the U.S.Postal service. This copy must always remain sealed because if the lyrics becomes a legal matter or a copyright infringement the poor man’s copyright will hold up in court. When the poor man’s copyright arrived a few days later, addressed to me, Mike opened it, so I had to do it all over again.

After Mike opened the poor man’s copyright, I did not feel comfortable and determined that I needed to take the proper measures and do a government issued copyright. I contacted several copyright services online, but did not want to pay $150. Again, I prayed and was lead to the government website for copyright. The charge was $33. It took over five hours of perseverance and prayer before I could breathe a sigh of relief. After I sent the information electronically, I felt comfortable to forward two of the songs to famous Hip Hop group.

Months later I received a warning dream from the Lord. Yes, God talks to me, and guess what? I listen. This was the dream:

I was in my backyard patio with one of my sisters when Mike came in with two white envelopes  from Federal Express, with blue writing. Mike handed them to me, but I told him that I would open them in private. I stepped inside and when I opened the first envelope, it was one of my songs. As I took a closer look at the song I saw that some of the words in my original lyrics were whited out, and other words added. I opened the second envelope, and saw the same thing, with some words whited out and new words added in. This was a clear message that I could no longer have the Christian Hip Hop group continue with my creation. I contacted the lead singer and shared the dream, telling him that because of the warning dream I had to pull the project. The leader of the group was gracious and thanked me.

I am not a starving songwriter, so I’m just waiting to hear from the Lord on how to promote my new venture.

This song is about a good girl who is serving the Lord, and being pursued by a worldly bad boy, as follows:

The Odd One

She doesn’t like the limelight doesn’t like the flair

She sings a cappella while waving her hand in the air

She is the odd one, the God one

The odd one, the God one

She is despised by the others because they gave it up

She operates in love not on any luck

She moves to the soft sound of the beat inside her head

Don’t think that you can get into your bed

She is sold out

She is the Odd one the God one

The odd one the God one

She has a shield about her

She knows her way around

But when she passes me all my heart does is pound

She is the odd one, the God one

The odd one, the God one

She combs her hair but once, all I do is stare

She never bothers to look in the mirror

Her beauty well defined

She calls me by a name that is not even mine

Doesn’t matter to me to hear her voice divine

She is the odd one the God one

The odd one the God one

Her life in one direction

My heart all up in her affection

She is the odd one the God one

The odd one the God one

© Lynda Ciriza

I was eighteen and he was twenty when we met. In the summer of 1971 at San Bernardino Valley College, I decided to take some courses. It was the week after the the Fourth of July because I had spent the weekend with friends at the beach and suffered the worst sunburn. My face had blotches of pealing skin, and I looked awful. When Mike passed me in hall, he did a double take and said , Hey, I know you!” I did not feel very attractive and just said, “Yeah, you dated my sister.”

When I got home that day the phone rang, and it was Mike. I told him my sister was married and that I had a boyfriend who at the time  was away in Mexico as an exchange student.

Mike really was not a stranger because when my sister Jo and he dated, I tagged along. My sister was beautiful and the desire of many male suitors, but she was on the shy side. She invited me on these dates to break the ice. I realize this sounds odd, but it was completely innocent and we had fun. My sister started dating other guys and we lost track of Mike.

Mike had recently returned from a long trip in Europe traveling and “finding himself,” when we met in the summer of 1971. He was fun to talk to and we shared an attraction at many levels. I felt like I was cheating on my boyfriend and refused to go out with Mike. He made it very difficult to say no, because he came to my place of work and ordered way too much fast food in order to get my attention. I finally agreed to go on a casual date and it was then that he had me write a Dear John letter to my boyfriend.

On our first date he wanted me to see the movie “Patton.” I had no idea what this movie was about, but it was no longer playing in the local  movie theaters. The only place it was showing was at a drive-in in Palm Springs, which was a 45 minute drive. I told Mike that I was not a drive-in type of girl, and it was out of the question. Mike convinced  me that this movie was worth it. The first thing that I learned about my husband is that his cars are impeccable, clean is an understatement. Mike went to get refreshments and I ordered an orange soda. I told Mike that I could balance the drink with one finger. Well, turns out that I could not balance the drink and it spilled all over the car, making  a sticky orange mess; that ended the date.

When my brothers were home it was nearly impossible to date. They were overprotective and always convinced our mother that I was up to no good. Once Mike had tickets to an Elton John concert at the Hollywood Bowl, but my brothers told my mother that a decent girl does not go all the way to LA for a concert. Mike came to pick me up only to have the door slammed at his face. Mike took his sister Norma to the concert instead.

Mike did not give up on me, We were being raised by a single mom, and that meant that all three of our brothers took the role of our father. They no longer lived with us, but when they visited they controlled our social life.

By the time November rolled around we were engaged, and on January 25, 1972, we were married at the home of one of  Mike’s friends. I wore the dress my mother had given me for Christmas, and though my family was not present and I was scared to death, I knew that it was the right decision.

Years later when our daughter Sonja was in high school, she wanted to dress like a hippie for Halloween. I had saved my purple wedding dress, and when Sonja pulled it out, she said that the dress would be perfect. I grabbed the dress from her and yelled,”NO! You can’t wear this dress!” Sonja looked puzzled and responded, “Wow, what’s wrong with you? You act as if were your wedding dress!” I started to laugh and said, “It is my wedding dress!” Sonja still laughs about this incident.

Our wedding was not at a church, but a Christian pastor officiated the nuptials, and though I did recognized the voice of God, I knew this union was of Him. Years later our marriage was blessed by Father Pat at St. Paul Outside-the-Walls in Rome, Italy. You can read story of our renewing our wedding vows in the Blog dated 1/20/16 “I Do.”

Patton is still one of Mike’s favorite movies, along with Braveheart. I recognized the music, and when I walk into the family room, Mike has the sound full blast., with a smirky simile.  I am sure that he has memorized most of the dialogue by now.

There are three things that amaze me—no, four things that I don’t understand: how an eagle glides through the sky, how a snake slithers on a rock, how a ship navigates the ocean, how a man loves a woman. Proverbs 30:18-19