Faith

I thought that when I’d be ready to write a post about my faith, I would be at the top of my game. As it turns out, my faith is just kind of average right now, and at times I’d say even a bit mediocre. My faith journey started as a child when my parents taught me how to pray. I had an easy connection with God back then, a childlike faith. I didn’t go to church regularly until I took my faith into my own hands as a teenager, but even then my childlike faith remained. I knew God, I loved God, and I had an easy relationship with God. Even in my early twenties, when my grandmother passed away, and there was so much pain, my faith held strong. I worked at it, I spent time on making my faith strong; but when I was no longer giving it time, and life got hard, that’s when my faith failed me.

It’s no secret my husband’s an alcoholic. He’s been to rehab, and we fight for recovery daily. Some days (weeks, months…) we do really well, but we’ve had a lot of bad seasons, too. After rehab, my husband was sober for about two years before relapsing. It’s been nearly three years since that first relapse, and my faith has really suffered since then. I’ve questioned God a lot, wondering why he would allow so much pain and fear in my life. I’ve been angry with God as well, angry that he wouldn’t just make the bad stop and angry that it was so difficult to find peace.

As a Catholic, I’ve been taught that the relationship between husband and wife mirrors the relationship between Christ and his Church. Part of my understanding of this statement is that, as husband and wife, we should strive to be like Christ to each other and take care of each other. We learn how to make our marriage better from looking at our relationship with God. The more I reflect on this statement, though, I think the opposite is also true, that marriage can teach us how to make our relationship with God better.

Aside from the alcoholism, I’d say I have a pretty average marriage. We have a lot of good times, we laugh with each other, and we enjoy each other’s company. We also have times when we don’t like each other very much and get on each other’s nerves. We argue, we get mad at each other (a lot of time for silly things), and we need time to regroup. We’ve had to work a lot on our marriage to make things work. I could say similar things about my relationship with God. He’s given me a lot of blessings, but there have been times in my life when I just didn’t like what he was doing. When my husband and I get into a similar place, where I don’t like what he’s doing, we get back into a better place by remembering that we make things better through teamwork.

In the same way, I may not always like what God’s doing or understand why God does what he does, but we’re on the same team. God wants good for me just as much as I do, and that’s important for me to remember when things get hard. If I can remain in the mindset of me and God being a team, then my faith stands a better chance at getting strong and staying strong.

Without faith, there is no hope. Without hope, there is no love.

Friendship

“Iron sharpens iron, and one man sharpens another.” -Proverbs 27:17

I’ve always enjoyed stories of romance and love. As a young girl, my nose was always buried in books about fairytale romances. Now that I’m older and married, I still enjoy a good love story, but I find myself more interested in the stories of friendship and family. I watch a lot of tv shows where the main characters have amazing friendships. They have special hang out places and always manage to find time to meet up. Married people and parents have friends they see regularly, and couples even have couple friends. While I know what I see on television is not real, I’m still left to imagine what it’s like to have friends like what I see on my screen. A fairytale friendship, so to speak.

I’ve had different friends for every season of my life: my childhood, my teenage years, my 20’s. There are a few people, that while I only see a few times a year, I still consider good friends; and there are a few others who will always hold a special place in my heart even though I may never see them in person again. I’ve made great memories with some friends and made it through difficult moments with others. I’ve also been disappointed by friends, been at odds with a few, and been ghosted once or twice. I’d say that’s a decent mix of both good and bad.  

Friendship is hard, though, especially being the shy introvert that I am. The small talk, meeting new people, and getting past the awkwardness is just not fun. It’s so much easier to stay in my bubble than to put myself out there. Now that I’ve been married for five years, I find myself slipping into my bubble of comfort more and more. I can easily convince myself that my husband is the only friend I need. The problem with that is that one person cannot be everything for us. We need other people to live more fulfilling lives (at least, I do).

I’ve realized this need for friends over and over again throughout the last few years, but that doesn’t make it any easier to seek out the friendships I so desperately need and desire. There have been times when I just felt very alone and wanted someone I could talk to (other than my husband), but at the same time, I didn’t feel comfortable enough to reach out to anyone. I will admit, though, that the experiences my husband and I have been through with his alcohol addiction have made me more apprehensive about opening up to others. I keep to myself because I fear that I’ll be pitied and that my experiences will somehow damage my character in the eyes of others. It’s a difficult road wanting this fairytale friendship but not being willing to seek people out.  

The idea of a fairytale friendship is actually a little funny to me because I know I myself don’t meet the requirements of a perfect friend. I fail others just as often as they’ve failed me. I don’t reach out, I don’t make friends a priority, and I often don’t remember to pray for them. The only conclusion I can come to with all of this is to remember the golden rule of treating others as I would like to be treated. I need to step outside of myself and start reaching out to others (being the friend I would like to have), and eventually, we might meet in our brokenness and not only will I have found a true and loyal friend but someone else will have found the same.    

“Do to others as you would have them do to you.” -Luke 6:31

Motherhood

Motherhood has been the one thing I’ve done that has most pushed me beyond my limits:  Physically, mentally, and emotionally. Being pregnant with my first was an exciting time. Everything was so new. My husband and I tracked each milestone, and the thought of soon having a baby in our arms brought us so much happiness. I was not, however, prepared for how difficult the physical aspects of pregnancy would be for me. I expected the labor part to be painful, but the before and after were just as bad, if not worse.

With three pregnancies in the last four years, my body has undergone so many changes that I no longer recognize it. It’s frustrating that one of the most wonderful things in life has left my body so worn out. I have been amazed, though, by how much my body has been able to handle these last few years. Motherhood pushed beyond my limits with pain and with change. Motherhood also pushed beyond my limits with how different each pregnancy and labor experience was and with how my body was able to heal after enduring so much stress.

Mentally, I would not say I’ve fared much better. Having two toddlers and an infant at the same time can really test your sanity. The kids earn my trust by sitting quietly to watch a movie or by not making a mess at mealtime but just as quickly make me question my decision-making skills when I leave them alone for less than a minute and return to find they’ve dumped out an entire box of Rice Crispies on the kitchen floor (and, of course, this had to be right after I had finished cleaning).

The random tantrums can also be quite trying. My daughter cries because I gave her the purple fork instead of the pink one or because her brother looked at her the wrong way. My son cries because I dared to put pants on him or because the commercials interrupted his cartoon. The baby is not one to be left behind, so she, of course, joins in on the chorus of crying. With three little ones, there always seems to be someone crying in the house. Motherhood pushes me past normal levels of frustration and past where I thought I could handle life, but I am once again amazed at how, even through all of the chaos, at the end of the day, I manage to keep it all together.         

Motherhood is painful and scary, at times. Motherhood is also absolutely beautiful. While I have had to grow in strength and patience by being pushed past my physical and mental limits, I have also grown in love by being pushed beyond my emotional limits. Being with my children teaches me so much about the good in life. My kids amaze me each day with how much they grow and learn. I love looking down at their little faces and seeing both mine and my husband’s features in a perfect combination (that somehow manages to be so different on each child). Some of my favorite things in life are how my kids give me random hugs, how they walk around the house pretending to be dinosaurs, and how they get so excited over the simple things in life (like cake). They have such big imaginations and an even bigger capacity for love.

Motherhood has pushed me so much beyond my ability to love that not only is there love enough to go around for everyone in my family, there is even more love to go around for my husband than before. We are a team, and watching him be a father is another one of my favorite things. I love how my husband loves our children, and I love him more in turn.

Motherhood has taught me that I am strong enough to handle pain and craziness. Motherhood has also shown me how to be gentle and how to love through the chaos and the calm. Motherhood proves that there is no limit to love.     

“Being a mother is learning about strengths you didn’t know you had and dealing with fears you never knew existed.” -Linda Wooten

Fear

I’ve become rather well acquainted with fear in the last few years. My life has been an ongoing search for peace while simultaneously battling my anxieties. Addiction will do that to you. In this case, not an addiction of my own but of my husband.

Whoever first said addiction is a family disease really knew what they were talking about.

My husband struggles with alcoholism. We’ve been together through times when he was deep in his addiction as well as times when he was strongly rooted in his recovery. Trying to overcome my fear hasn’t been easier in either of the two scenarios.

When he was in his addiction, my fear was about whether he’d be drinking and whether that would finally be the day I would leave him. In recovery, my fear is about whether I can trust he’s being honest with me and whether it’s just a matter of time before there’s a relapse. In some ways, recovery is more difficult because, when the drinking is present, I’m brought face-to-face with the thing I fear most. During recovery, though, my fears have no outlet. I’m left to wonder if my fears and suspicions will soon become a reality or whether I’m just going crazy.

Just like my husband has to work on and stay on top of his sobriety constantly, I have to learn to heal and stop giving into fear. Of course, that’s easier said than done because stepping out of the fear requires me to put my heart on the line again with both God and my husband.

I’ve spent a good amount of time trying to find ways to calm my anxieties and get past the fear. The healing process is slow, and I often find myself on page one again. I recently accepted that if I was ever going to truly learn to overcome my fears, I needed a change of perspective.

Luckily, my three-year-old is around to help me see the world from a completely different angle.  

My three-year-old loves Halloween, the decorations, the costumes, and, of course, the candy. Even now, in December, she begs us to keep playing all of the Halloween specials on TV. Her favorite part is all of the scary things. When the Halloween stores were open, she begged us to take her to look at the scary displays at the store. She cowered in fear as we walked by all of the monsters. One of them popped out in front of her, and she ran away and hid behind me but then giggled as she headed back to get a closer look.

I was amazed by her innocence and how she could so easily overcome her fears. Being scared didn’t hinder her enjoyment of life. I later realized it was easy for her to let go of the fear because she feels that, as long as she has me or her dad around, she’s safe.  

She knows she’s not alone and that she has someone to turn to when things get scary. She knows the fear is only temporary. In my pain and fear, I forget these things. I forget that God is with me, and I forget that fear isn’t permanent. If I take a page from my daughter’s book, then even though I’m scared, I can start to handle my fears better. I’ll more easily remember that God is here to comfort me and that God wants good for me.   

Things don’t seem so scary when I know that God’s going to keep me safe. Regardless of where life takes me though, I know I don’t want to live in fear because fear keeps me from being the person I want to be, and I’m too strong of a person to stay stuck in fear.  

“For I know the plans I have for you, says the LORD, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.”  –Jeremiah 29:11

Expectation

As a grad student, I am constantly writing. I enjoy writing, but lately, it’s become tedious, so I decided that during my school break, I would focus on writing for myself. I haven’t written anything for this blog in years so it’ll be a challenge for me, but it’s good to challenge ourselves now and then. Within the next few days, I’ll be posting a series of topics that are dear to my heart.

Today marks 10 years since my grandmother passed away. I never expected she would be gone from my life so soon. She had cancer, so it wasn’t a shock, but nothing could prepare me for how much pain her loss would cause me and my family.

Growing up, she took care of me and my sister while my mother worked. She’d have the Spanish novelas on all day long. My sister and I would follow the storylines along with her, and it was fun to watch with her because she’d get mad at the villains and talk back to the television (even now, we still joke about how mad she’d get at the TV). She didn’t drive, so on days she had to pick us up from school, she’d walk to get us and bring umbrellas for us to block out the sun while we walked to her house. She was the best cook (no one else’s rice will ever be as good as hers). She loved music. When the television wasn’t on, she’d have music playing and would always hum along with the songs. She taught me how to sew and how to make Christmas bows. She always wrapped the most beautiful presents, so I’m reminded of her a lot during the holidays. She didn’t smile a lot during her final days, but in my memories, she’s always smiling.

On one of her last days with us, she asked me to paint her nails for her. She always liked fancy things and dressing up, and even during her last days (sitting in her wheelchair wearing her robe), she wanted a little beauty in her life. So, I dropped what I was doing, helped her pick out a color, and painted her nails. We didn’t talk about anything life-changing, but I cherish the memory because, in my small act of service, I was able to make her happy. It was the last time I spent time with her one-on-one.

I always expected to get more time with her. I expected her to be at my wedding, to make beautiful decorations and help me pick out my dress. She’d know exactly how it needed to be altered and maybe even make a shawl for me to wear with it. I expected her to meet my children and make a blanket for them as she did for every other baby in the family. She’d love my kids and tell me how precious they are. I expected her to be here still, but that didn’t happen.

I so often let my expectations of life cloud over the good. With my grandmother, it’s taken me a long time to let go. I was heartbroken, and there are still days when I get sad, but I’ve learned to focus on the strength I gained from the experience.

Life is constantly throwing me into the unexpected and having me deal with change. Earlier this year, I was thrown into another unexpected event. I found out I was pregnant with my third child. At the time, my oldest was two, and my youngest was one. I had just started a new job a few months before, and I didn’t know how I was going to make it all work. My husband and I wanted a third child, but we had hoped to wait a few more years. It wasn’t the timing we expected at all, so it took us a while to get used to the idea of another child so soon. We kept feeling that this would be good for us, though, and that this was what God wanted for us. Once we let go of our expectations, our love for our new baby grew easily.

Our daughter was born October 28th, the day that would have been my grandmother’s 84th birthday. October 28th has always been a little sad for me since my grandmother’s passing, but this year, I felt so much happiness because of my little baby. She was completely unexpected, but with her, our family feels complete. She really is the most amazing little baby.

Life is full of expectations. What matters is how we deal with life when those expectations aren’t met. We can’t let the unexpected hurts and twists keep us down because that’s how we grow, and sometimes the best things in life come from the unexpected.  

            “Expectation is the root of all heartache.” -Unknown