First and Last Camping Trip

I guess I did laundry in the nearby stream

I’m resurrecting an old story that was introduced three years ago.

Isaiah 43:1-2 New American Bible (Revised Edition) (NABRE)

But now, thus says the Lord,
    who created you, Jacob, and formed you, Israel:
Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;
    I have called you by name: you are mine.
When you pass through waters, I will be with you;
    through rivers, you shall not be swept away.
When you walk through fire, you shall not be burned,
    nor will flames consume you.

Be Prepared

When we planned our first camping trip we purchased a four-man tent, along with all new cooking utensils and sleeping bags. We were excited to drive up to Twin Lakes with our kids. It was summer the of 1978, when Mikos was five years old and Sonja was three. We must have used one of our delivery vans  because I distinctly remember it having one side- sliding door and seating for only the driver and one passenger. Our children traveled safely on a bed of sleeping bags; there were no laws against that at the time. We drove for hours until we reached the campsite. Two forest rangers greeted us at the entrance to the campsite. We paid the camping fee and were handed a flyer with a composite drawing of a rapist in the vicinity. I studied the face of the criminal, then dropped the flyer on the floor of the van. Great fear gripped my heart because of that creepy drawing.

Our brave captain

Camping Snobs

I told Mike that we were not there to make friends and I wanted to be far from any crowds, so Mike did just that. We could see campers from a great  distance; so far this was a perfect plan. Our site was a long distance from the public restrooms, but I was fine with that as well. When night fell it got dark; this type of darkness was black, scary dark, so dark  that you could not see your hand in front of your face. We had our flashlights and got into our sleeping bags for the night. I was scared of the dark and the rapist’s face on the flyer was still fresh in my mind. I tried to sleep but I could not. I felt like there were bugs in my newly permed hair. It was uncomfortably cold – so cold that I had to put on another layer of clothes. After tossing and turning, I finally fell asleep. Then I heard Mike’s voice, “Are you awake, Lynda? Are you awake?” Now I was wide awake. Mike told me that he was going to move the van in front of the entrance of the tent so that if anything happened, I was to grab the kids and lock them in the van. What did Mike know that he wasn’t telling me? I asked Mike why, and he told me to be quiet and try to get some sleep. Well, I was asleep until he decided to add more fear to this living nightmare. Every noise – the wind rustling, and the strange forest sounds – was amplified, making my life a living hell. By morning I was just happy to be among the living. It turned out that Mike overheard some campers talking about a bear sighting. Mike thought that we were going to be attacked. He had a medium-sized knife to fight off the beast. I knew this unfortunate aggression was real, and that the bear would be the victor. I’ve seen the movies, and I wanted to go home!

Mikos, me (the dead perm), and Sonja

I had just had my hair permed and, back in the day, you had to wait three days before washing your hair or the curl would come out. It was day two and I had to wash my hair; because of the imaginary bugs and dust, I could not wait for the third day. When Sonja and I walked to the showers, I had no idea that they  were communal. You had to pay for the water usage: a quarter every five minutes. So in the middle of washing my perm, the water shut off! Could this get any worse? I wrapped Sonja in a towel and sent her out for more quarters. “You tell your dad that he better have at least five quarters!”  As the result of this disobedience to my hairdresser, the perm went flat and I looked like one of the Beatles.

Family Fishing

Our provisions were scarce because Mike decided that we were going to live off the land. So in order for us to eat dinner we had to catch our own fish. We rented an outboard motorboat and traveled for half an hour to what seemed to be the perfect spot; however, I had to go to the bathroom, so poor Mike  had to turn around and dock the boat while I used the facilities. We finally reached a good fishing spot and cast our lines. At first we waited and got nothing, then Mike got a bite. Mike caught a good-sized fish which would have been our dinner, but when he unhooked the fish, it was flopping all over the boat.  The kids started crying. It was too much for these city slicker kids to see the suffering and torment of the poor creature. “Please Daddy, please put it back! Put it back!” they cried. Mike set the fish free, and we had eggs for dinner. Thank God, because the last thing I wanted to see was fish guts.

Kum Ba Ya

I tried to keep the inside of the tent tidy but the dust and insects won, beating me into near insanity. Remember that I requested to be away from the maddening crowd; well, that didn’t work out so well either. Each night, while I prayed for morning to come, we could hear singing and laughing . Now I longed for camping friends, but it was too late in the game for that. I never experienced campfire talk first hand,  scary ghost stories (I was living it), nor the singing of Kum Ba Ya. From a distance we could hear the other campers, and by the scent from their camp fires, they were probably eating s’mores.  We roasted some hot dogs and went to bed. After a while the laughter and singing annoyed me. I wanted to sing and eat s’mores, but we were camping snobs.

Take Me Home

For years I could not understand how people enjoyed camping. The stillness of the night was an unsettling reminder of how vulnerable we were. The ferocious bears, and the eerie sounds of  birds was like being in a haunted forest. The best part of this trip was packing up and staying at a hotel the last night.

Looking back at this vacation I wonder how we could have allowed our kids to ride in the back on sleeping bags. Mike and I were slowly coming out of our Hippie days, so  things like that did not matter.  Nowadays any trips with children are planned to make sure that they are entertained the entire trip. I can not back out of my driveway without the secure sound of the clicking of my grandchildren’s seatbelts. It may be safer now, but even though it was unsafe the old way, it was a lot more adventuresome.

I thank God that nothing happened to us and that we lived to tell about one of the two camping trips we experienced. But I will never forget this trip, and no one in the world could ever convince me that camping is a vacation. The spirit of fear has finally left me, but I’m still not ready for another camping trip.

 

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Sowing Good Seed

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 13:8-9 New American Bible (Revised Edition) (NABRE)

But some seed fell on rich soil, and produced fruit, a hundred or sixty or thirtyfold. 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!

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My Brother Robert

Robert on his Harley Davidson

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 34:2 New American Bible (Revised Edition) (NABRE)

I will bless the Lord at all times;
    his praise shall be always in my mouth.

 

 

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