I woke up Mother’s Day morning with a dream holding me captive. I had my Eziekel toast with coffee and sat in my usual nook in the kitchen and cried. I wondered why God had not answered my prayers. Mike walked in and asked, ” Are you all right?” I answered “What do you think? I’m tired of praying for the same thing and still no answers!” I believe a dream set the stage for my Mother’s Day Pity Party, or getting off on the wrong side of the bed, either way, I did not feel like celebrating that day. I mopped the kitchen floor, and dragged myself upstairs to get ready for the day. I had planned to wear a linen top with black pants but when I tried the outfit on, it was all wrong and uncomfortable. Plan B required Spanx’s and that is never fun. My dress was made of thin nylon material  and it was a tad chilly, so the navy blue sweater was perfect, covering all the right parts of my body.

When we arrived at brunch, I still had that weird spirit that was on high alert and sensitive to any remark. It took a good talking from Mike to shake it off.

The brunch at Tap’s was excellent, and as much as I tried different dishes, for once I felt that I did not overdo my eating. My grandsons ate so many chocolate-covered strawberries that I worried that we might get complaints from the management. At one point William got tired of walking back and forth to the chocolate fountain that he filled a bowl with chocolate and brought it to the table. After the Bananas Foster, we exchanged our gifts and headed back home.

I ‘d missed morning Mass so I decided to attend the one at 5:30 P.M. I always parked the car a distance to allow for extra walking. So as I walked toward the church I felt a cool breeze moving my dress. I looked at my shadow and marveled at the flirty waves the dress was making, but it felt really breezy. I made all the way to the steps of the church when I heard the voice of a lady with a heavy Mexican accent saying, “Miss! Miss!” As I turned around, she said, “Your dress!” Boy, did I know what that meant! My flirty dress was caught up in my undergarment! In a panic I readjusted the problem dress, and I prayed no one else noticed, then quickly made my way into the  church.

Father Bruce was officiating the service, in which we were celebrating the Ascension of the Lord. That meant that we would be sprinkled with holy water to remind us of our Baptism. As Father passed me, it was as if God had revealed to him that I needed an additude adjustment. Father dipped the sprinkling brush into the water, and I got soaked! I smiled and said to myself, “Okay, Lord, I get it, You wanted to make sure that the holy water really washed away all the dross.”

Atfer Communion all was well, and I left with the peace of God.

The closing hymn at Mass was:

My prayer:
Dear Lord  thank you for this beautiful song,  I do love to sing your praises. I thank You for answering and making me wait for provision on unanswered prayers, because everything is in Your perfect timing. Through the waiting You are strengthening my patience and dependence on You. Forgive me, Lord, for behaving so selfishly, for my blessings are many! I think of all the homeless mothers I’ve encountered and pray for their safety and a forthcoming opportunity to be reunite with their children. Amen

The only thing I can share about the dream was that the Scripture of Isaiah 2:19 was given to me. I am still trying to interpret its meaning, I woke up long enough to write down the Scripture and went back to sleep.

I was baptized, along with my sisters Jo and Norma. I remember this because we were older, and my parents gave us a big party. My father had many rolls of quarters and tossed them in the air. As children we dove after them like candy from a Piñata, this is a Mexican tradition in celebrating Baptisms. I had my First Holy Communion when I was in fifth grade and Confirmation in the eight grade. At Confirmation we are to adopt a saint that we are to carry the rest of our lives, but I do not recall the name of the saint I chose. Now that it matters, I need to investigate my saints name.

My First Holy Communion dress was beautiful. There were only two department stores in our small town of Brawley, so my white dress either came from JC Penney’s or McDonalds. McDonalds was the more upscale store and only on very special occasions did we get shop there. My mother made sure I had everything, including a small jeweled  purse, and white gloves. I wanted a blue St. Christopher medal for my necklace but that was too extravagant, so I never bothered to ask. My only regret is that all my certificates were lost in one of our family’s moves.

After confirmation I was sporadically catechized. My walk with God was the object of serious threats brought on by our mother, and I can still hear them. “Remember God can see everything you do!” Our mother instilled the fear of God, humility, and respect almost as if we were in training for a monastery. She did this because attending church on Sunday was nearly impossible. Our brothers had cars, but our mother never learned to drive, and we lived in an unincorporated part of town. We attended Mass on special occasions like Christmas and Easter.

I knew early on of my calling to serve God. It started, at about seven years-old. Our mother had purchased the most beautiful Bible. I loved perusing through these magnificent pages. The pictures of the Pope, Rome, and the Vatican. Rome was a lifetime away but I’d imagine myself there with the masses. The Bible that my mother purchased was only read to us by her because it was too elegant and big for common use. It was put away for safekeeping on a shelf. Every chance I got I would pull it out and run my fingers through the fancy red bold lettering at the start of every chapter. I guess all of us kids were doing the same thing because the ornate gold  cover finally fell apart.

Life was less complicated, as I never knew we lacked anything, and our mother made sure of that. We had food and clothing and the rest of the stuff was only left to the imagination, so at times we went without.

It is our Christian responsibility to instill the great values of God into our children. I was all over the board with this, first being Catholic,  then becoming Born-Agian, and finally retuning to my Catholic roots. Both Mikos and Sonja, along with Mike were dragged into my ambiguous walk and thankfully, both are serving the Lord and teaching their children to serve God as well.

Our grandson Lucas made his First Holy Communion this Saturday and we were all there to witness the blessed event. Maddie is part of youth group at Calvery Chapel, and recently returned from a retreat. It makes my heart sing a silent hallelujah to see her posting Bible verses on social media.  My grandson Will choosing his first Bible added another hallelujah. I know deep down in their little souls they are receiving the lessons to love the Lord.