I rehearsed a handful of responses as I walked toward their car. Although I didn’t know them, I was certain that they were going to ask me for money. Lately I had been approached by a number of transients asking for help. Rather than constantly giving money, I made a practice of keeping snacks in my car to give to give to those who were hungry. But honestly, I found this to be tiresome, and was no longer doing it with a joyful heart.
One thing that I can always count on, when my suegra visits, is homegirl is going to “get-down” in the kitchen. That lady can cook like there is no tomorrow. And I…. let’s just say that I am 100% fine with that. However, the day after, I can literally hear my arteries crying, as they continue to process all the refined grease (manteca) and spices that we, Mexicans, like to indulge in.
For quite some time, my emotional health could be compared to a bottle of soda-pop that had been violently shaken and was waiting to surprise any person who dared to open it. In turn, my emotional pain began to manifest in other ways.
For years, I gave people the power to define masculinity for me. This confused the heck out of me. Truth is, I’ve been given an example of who I want to model my life after….
The thought that people didn’t care about us was constantly reinforced by the actions of others. My heart became like a broken bone that never set properly. It stopped working correctly and healed around bitterness, instead of forgiveness.
Shame is an enemy that you can’t ignore.....
I am loved. I am forgiven. I am redeemed. My life has meaning. My life has purpose. I am not a mistake. I am not my past. My best days are yet to come. God is not finished with me. He has my heart and I belong to him.