Today is December 27, 2008. All is quiet and peaceful-the calm after the storm of Christmas--giving me opportunity to reflect on these past 12 months.
I was drawn to the personal note on the January 2008 Issue of, "Be Ready", the monthly newsletter of In Season Ministries. The following is what I wrote:
"Dear friends and family in Christ,
Today is January 4, 2008. As I sit here and write, I wonder about the many New Years resolutions that have been made, and especially how many more have been or will be broken. As for me, I made one on December 31 st -kept it on January 1st-2nd, then broke it on January 3 rd . Sigh. I just cannot seem to get myself up any earlier than 5:00am to work out. So here you have it; excuse number one: I just cannot get up. More accurately, I chose not to get up."
"As I thought about the reality of breaking my resolution, I realize everything we do involves choice--so I made a new resolution: a choice. One I feel I should have no problem wanting to keep. I choose to be more like Christ at the end of this year than I am today. This starts by reading more of God's word and less of Ted Dekker. It also means not looking back at the past year and relishing my accomplishments and blessings--and thankfully, it means not looking back on last year's heartache. I am not talking about looking back with a sense of joy, or sigh of relief, but I am talking about turning our heads so far backward that we cannot see the blessings and opportunities that are set before us."
"Two Scriptures come to my mind as I consider this new commitment: No one, having put his hand to the plow, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God.' (Luke 9:62) and, "Brethren, I do not count myself to have apprehended; but one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind and reaching forward to those things which are ahead.' (Philippians 3:13)"
"Whatever your New Years Resolution, I pray it will include a commitment to draw closer to the Lord this year, and that it will be one you keep. May the Lord be with each one of us-may we pursue Him with everything that is within us! Love in Jesus, Teresa."
The question then, is how did I do? Am I more like Jesus now than I was at the beginning of the year?
After an honest assessment of my over all behavior and attitude, I can answer with a yes. I have been given many opportunities to exercise unconditional love and forgiveness and plenty of times when I had to give up my "right" to be right, for the sake of another's well-being and peace of mind. Please don't misunderstand, this was never an easy task. There were many tears and challenges along the way. Nevertheless, the outcome always involved peace and the ability to move forward without bitterness in my heart. I suspect this year will bring new opportunities to be more like Christ. There are already a few in the works. This time, it involves being more concerned with what God thinks than what others think and doing what is right over what is popular. You see, being more like Jesus doesn't require me to be perfect, just willing.
As for the working-out and having that rock solid-wonder woman figure, well, not so much. That is just fine with me, the beauty within will just have to keep getting better to hide the imperfections of this tattered body.
How about you--how did you do?
Here we are at the end of 2008, filled with its share of joy and pain. What will we choose for 2009. Will we pursue the better job or the bigger house--what about the better body? These are not bad in themselves, but at what cost?
On the other hand, why not pursue love, grace, kindness and putting others before ourselves. These attributes belong to all of humanity-religion aside. These are things all of us can all chose in the New Year. Then maybe, just maybe, all those other things we seek might fall into place, and if not, it won't kill us.
If your heart desires, please pray with me:
Heavenly Father,
May this be a year of strong fellowship for all-restore relationships, bring new friendships our way. Help us to move forward in excitement for the new things you have planned. Give us the grace to let go of the past and put it behind us. May we have true forgiveness in our hearts so that we do not continue to carry the past on our shoulders. Help us to look to this New Year with a clean slate. Turn our hearts toward the things that matter to you and the One who can give us the courage to do so. Finally Father, help us to set aside our accomplishments in this past year, so we have room for the new you have in store.
In the name of Jesus I pray, Amen.
Teresa Ortiz
Dec 7, 2008
Plain Talk about Abortion: a Personal Story
Lately there has been no escaping the topic of abortion. We have the pro-choicer, pro-lifer, and enough statistics to make anyone puke.
I am so tired of all the politics--should it be legal--should it be illegal. Does it really matter? Abortion and the attitude toward it are not going to change with the making of law. Since when has law affected real change on the inside? Who in our government speaks of a change of heart? Isn't that where it all starts?
We will never see this happen because if we keep ourselves busy debating law and statistics, there is no time to talk about the heart of man.
I have remained silent in this arena for many reasons, one being I hate political and statistical debates and frankly, they get on and in my nerves more than anything else does.
Nevertheless, my heart is breaking and I can no longer remain silent. It's not the millions of babies that make me speak out, it's that there has been one. Isn't one enough? If I may be selfish for a moment, isn't mine enough?
I prefer talking about the lighter things in life. When I write or teach, it's generally on the side of humor. Humor is a funny thing--it's not as easily accepted in the Christian world. I'm not sure why. It's like some Christians don't want others to think they are not spiritually profound or well versed in the Bible or something. Heaven forbid we should have a light-hearted story to share the truth of God as He works in everyday life.
I say this because if you have read anything I have written so far, you've noticed that my tone is different. I can be sober-I can cut to the heart of a matter. I suppose this is one of those times.
Therefore, I will take you back in time-join me in the waiting room with seven other teens. You are sitting there in silence, scared out of your mind, feeling all alone. Then you spot a girl from school. You know, the popular one-the model-the cheerleader. You make eye contact from across the room and suddenly you have a friend-a friend who is your enemy at school. Why is this? Because no way is she going back to school on Monday to tell her friends where she spent her Friday night, nor are you.
Sitting in the lounge chair designed for your comfort, the nurse brings you some muscle relaxers. She smiles a warm smile and tells you that everything is going to be okay. You are anxiously awaiting your turn as if you were auditioning for a role in a horror movie, it would seem the case as you get a good look at the face of the girl who exits the room while the nurse calls your name.
Feel the cold bed pressed against your back as you put your feet in the stirrups…
Walk with me into the recovery room-listen to the wailing and crying coming from the other girls, listen to your own. Fortunately, you don't have to listen for long because it only takes 15-minutes to recover. Just 15-minutes to forget the sound of the sloshing vacuum. 15-minutes to wipe your eyes, leave the building and start your weekend.
The smiling nurse has no time or need to comfort you with a hug on your way out the door; she is too busy handing out a fresh batch of muscle relaxers-although sweet as she is, she doesn't let you walk out empty-handed. She gives you a brown bag of goodies that will reduce your chances of a return visit.
~~~~~
So how is this for a statistic-how about sharing this story on T.V.? Oh, sure there are organizations out there to help a woman deal with the consequences of her choice to murder her unborn child--what about help to make a better choice to begin with?
Still, this doesn't do anything to solve the problem. We need to get back to the root of the problem and that is Sin. It all boils down to sin. No premarital sex as a teen or adult and we solve a big portion of the problem. The rest of the problem would be solved if men stopped raping and molesting women. Sin, it's all about sin.
At the very least, there should be a law that requires full disclosure of the medical procedure and the developmental stages of an unborn child be made available to the one who is considering ending the life of her child. It still amazes me that my husband was required to have one counseling session and watch a video before the hospital would approve his vasectomy. "Are you sure you want to do this Mr. Ortiz? It is a near impossibility to have the procedure reversed". Wow! I would say it is 100% impossible to have the abortion procedure reversed. In addition, if my son were to get in a car accident, the hospital could not treat him without my consent. Weird how an under aged girl can go through a life-changing medical procedure without her parents knowledge and signature.
Weird.
How would you like to take a second trip to Planned Parenthood with me? The brown bag of goodies didn't do me any good…
Repentance, grace, knowledge, love, and education are going to be the end of abortion. A few stories like mine from the candidates might help, but mine will never be told-because I am a nobody, of no influence or money. I am therefore, a statistic.
Obviously this isn't going to happen so what do we do? We stop debating and start praying for change. If you have been moved by my story, share it with someone who has influence. I am convinced if teens and women were told the truth about abortion, the law wouldn't matter, because they would choose something different. Maybe not all, but one-isn't one enough?
For some of you, this wasn't your only trip to Planned Parenthood (Ha! Planned Parenthood-there's a deadly joke for you) If you are looking for help and freedom from guilt or if you just want to read a poem of forgiveness and healing, click here.
© Teresa Ortiz 2008
I am so tired of all the politics--should it be legal--should it be illegal. Does it really matter? Abortion and the attitude toward it are not going to change with the making of law. Since when has law affected real change on the inside? Who in our government speaks of a change of heart? Isn't that where it all starts?
We will never see this happen because if we keep ourselves busy debating law and statistics, there is no time to talk about the heart of man.
I have remained silent in this arena for many reasons, one being I hate political and statistical debates and frankly, they get on and in my nerves more than anything else does.
Nevertheless, my heart is breaking and I can no longer remain silent. It's not the millions of babies that make me speak out, it's that there has been one. Isn't one enough? If I may be selfish for a moment, isn't mine enough?
I prefer talking about the lighter things in life. When I write or teach, it's generally on the side of humor. Humor is a funny thing--it's not as easily accepted in the Christian world. I'm not sure why. It's like some Christians don't want others to think they are not spiritually profound or well versed in the Bible or something. Heaven forbid we should have a light-hearted story to share the truth of God as He works in everyday life.
I say this because if you have read anything I have written so far, you've noticed that my tone is different. I can be sober-I can cut to the heart of a matter. I suppose this is one of those times.
Therefore, I will take you back in time-join me in the waiting room with seven other teens. You are sitting there in silence, scared out of your mind, feeling all alone. Then you spot a girl from school. You know, the popular one-the model-the cheerleader. You make eye contact from across the room and suddenly you have a friend-a friend who is your enemy at school. Why is this? Because no way is she going back to school on Monday to tell her friends where she spent her Friday night, nor are you.
Sitting in the lounge chair designed for your comfort, the nurse brings you some muscle relaxers. She smiles a warm smile and tells you that everything is going to be okay. You are anxiously awaiting your turn as if you were auditioning for a role in a horror movie, it would seem the case as you get a good look at the face of the girl who exits the room while the nurse calls your name.
Feel the cold bed pressed against your back as you put your feet in the stirrups…
Walk with me into the recovery room-listen to the wailing and crying coming from the other girls, listen to your own. Fortunately, you don't have to listen for long because it only takes 15-minutes to recover. Just 15-minutes to forget the sound of the sloshing vacuum. 15-minutes to wipe your eyes, leave the building and start your weekend.
The smiling nurse has no time or need to comfort you with a hug on your way out the door; she is too busy handing out a fresh batch of muscle relaxers-although sweet as she is, she doesn't let you walk out empty-handed. She gives you a brown bag of goodies that will reduce your chances of a return visit.
~~~~~
So how is this for a statistic-how about sharing this story on T.V.? Oh, sure there are organizations out there to help a woman deal with the consequences of her choice to murder her unborn child--what about help to make a better choice to begin with?
Still, this doesn't do anything to solve the problem. We need to get back to the root of the problem and that is Sin. It all boils down to sin. No premarital sex as a teen or adult and we solve a big portion of the problem. The rest of the problem would be solved if men stopped raping and molesting women. Sin, it's all about sin.
At the very least, there should be a law that requires full disclosure of the medical procedure and the developmental stages of an unborn child be made available to the one who is considering ending the life of her child. It still amazes me that my husband was required to have one counseling session and watch a video before the hospital would approve his vasectomy. "Are you sure you want to do this Mr. Ortiz? It is a near impossibility to have the procedure reversed". Wow! I would say it is 100% impossible to have the abortion procedure reversed. In addition, if my son were to get in a car accident, the hospital could not treat him without my consent. Weird how an under aged girl can go through a life-changing medical procedure without her parents knowledge and signature.
Weird.
How would you like to take a second trip to Planned Parenthood with me? The brown bag of goodies didn't do me any good…
Repentance, grace, knowledge, love, and education are going to be the end of abortion. A few stories like mine from the candidates might help, but mine will never be told-because I am a nobody, of no influence or money. I am therefore, a statistic.
Obviously this isn't going to happen so what do we do? We stop debating and start praying for change. If you have been moved by my story, share it with someone who has influence. I am convinced if teens and women were told the truth about abortion, the law wouldn't matter, because they would choose something different. Maybe not all, but one-isn't one enough?
For some of you, this wasn't your only trip to Planned Parenthood (Ha! Planned Parenthood-there's a deadly joke for you) If you are looking for help and freedom from guilt or if you just want to read a poem of forgiveness and healing, click here.
© Teresa Ortiz 2008
If Only for a Moment (A poem of healing from abortion)
They didn't tell me you had a beating heart;
they told me you were a mass of tissue.
They didn't tell me I would cry for you 24-years later,
they told me it was nothing-you were nothing.
The room was cold-so-so cold.
Just relax, they said, there's nothing to it.
Staring in silence-screaming inside with no place to hide, nowhere to run.
Relax I say, soon you will be out having fun.
Life went on-for me that is.
Would it matter if I told you your father and I married?
Is that any consolation?
How many pregnancies, how many live births?
The question stings, I wonder if acid would soothe the burn.
Then one day I heard your sister's heartbeat for the very first time;
You were just her age when yours beat for the very last time.
What have I done? In an instant, you were real.
Would it make a difference if I told you I mourn for you still?
My Lord is gracious, forgiving and kind
He took you in His arms when I chose not to hold you in mine.
One hope I hold dear to my heart; that my Lord Jesus would
grant me one wish-one delight.
To hold you in my arms if only for a moment
and feel the love of both of you.
~~~~
Do you have a silent cry? God will forgive you and heal your broken heart. You don't have to bear the guilt and shame any longer. Never be alone again. Share your heart. I am listening and I care.
I have spoken to many women who feel they don't deserve to have children so they haven't. Other women cannot have children because of the damage done as a result. Then there is the mother who feels guilty at times delighting in the children she was blessed with later in life. Abortion is not an easy out. It may seem like it at the time, but the effects will last a lifetime.
If you are pregnant and considering abortion, please seek other alternatives, don't listen to the lies. It will be hard, but you can learn to be a good mom. There are agencies to help you. Teen Moms is a great resource.
http://teenmominternational.org/
I am here to help. Write me anytime.
Love Teresa, Love Jesus.
© Teresa Ortiz 2008 All Rights Reserved.
they told me you were a mass of tissue.
They didn't tell me I would cry for you 24-years later,
they told me it was nothing-you were nothing.
The room was cold-so-so cold.
Just relax, they said, there's nothing to it.
Staring in silence-screaming inside with no place to hide, nowhere to run.
Relax I say, soon you will be out having fun.
Life went on-for me that is.
Would it matter if I told you your father and I married?
Is that any consolation?
How many pregnancies, how many live births?
The question stings, I wonder if acid would soothe the burn.
Then one day I heard your sister's heartbeat for the very first time;
You were just her age when yours beat for the very last time.
What have I done? In an instant, you were real.
Would it make a difference if I told you I mourn for you still?
My Lord is gracious, forgiving and kind
He took you in His arms when I chose not to hold you in mine.
One hope I hold dear to my heart; that my Lord Jesus would
grant me one wish-one delight.
To hold you in my arms if only for a moment
and feel the love of both of you.
~~~~
Do you have a silent cry? God will forgive you and heal your broken heart. You don't have to bear the guilt and shame any longer. Never be alone again. Share your heart. I am listening and I care.
I have spoken to many women who feel they don't deserve to have children so they haven't. Other women cannot have children because of the damage done as a result. Then there is the mother who feels guilty at times delighting in the children she was blessed with later in life. Abortion is not an easy out. It may seem like it at the time, but the effects will last a lifetime.
If you are pregnant and considering abortion, please seek other alternatives, don't listen to the lies. It will be hard, but you can learn to be a good mom. There are agencies to help you. Teen Moms is a great resource.
http://teenmominternational.org/
I am here to help. Write me anytime.
Love Teresa, Love Jesus.
© Teresa Ortiz 2008 All Rights Reserved.
Where the Heck is my Cart and what's the Deal with the Headboard: a Script
My husband, you just gotta love him. I am proud to say that he successfully completed his first official work week away from home.
We have had some fun conversations and some of the stories he has shared have amused me. Don't worry, I won't punish you with all of them, but knowing you are friends, I thought you might enjoy this one.
(Sunday: Early afternoon Act I – scene I - Wal-mart, Yuma, Az.)
Cell phone ringing ~ Keep on dancing, to the funky music, keep on dancing to th-
Teresa: "Hello?"
Art: "Hey baby. So, I'm almost done shopping, but I can't find the water, you should be so proud of me, I did so good finding everything else…"
Narrator: As he strolls up and down the aisles, he spots the water, "now where are the rock stars", he says to his wife. "Turn around they should be right across from the water." She replies.
After chitchatting about this and that, he gets to the front of the store, anxious and ready to get back to his room for some peace and quiet. He is after all, quite sick and needs to take the myriad of medications the pharmacist helped him find an hour earlier when he started shopping for the seven or 8 items he needed. (Maybe there were a few more items than that.)
Art: "Where would I find a map?"
Teresa: "They should be by the books in the front of the store; you should be able to see them from where you are."
Narrator: Walking up and down the front of store, he can't seem to locate the maps. He slowly begins to walk faster, breathe heavier and let out a big sigh of frustration. "These people are idiots", he says under his breath. "Why do they make things so hard to find", echoes repeatedly in his wife's ear as he continues to walk from one end of the store to the other.
Art: "Found them, finally. Now I'm outta here."
Narrator: As he heads back in the direction of his shopping cart, he begins to panic because it is nowhere in sight. His wife gently encourages him to look in the other direction. Again he walks to and fro all about the front of the store. "Where in the heck is my cart?" he shouts in his wife's ear with an exasperated tone. "Are you kidding me, do I have to do this all over again…I can't believe people…just leave my stuff alone…" His wife begins to laugh…thinking this is one of the rare times she can. She is no stranger to being made fun of so she is not keeping it a secret that she is relishing this moment.
Suddenly his wife hears laughter on the other end of the line--a girl's giggle. An employee notices this panic stricken man and comes to his aid. She sheepishly admits she brought his cart forward so it wasn't blocking the aisle. His wife listens in amusement as they carry on as if she is no longer on the phone.
Art: "Let me call you back in a few."
Teresa: "No problem, talk to later."
(ACT I – scene II – Wal-mart parking lot)
Narrator: Don't be fooled by the name Arthur Ortiz, it only sounds Mexican, and just because he is brown and very close to the border of Mexico, does not mean he knows a drop of Spanish--and this brown boy is about as honky as anyone can get--please, no offense intended. Only a necessary part of this scene as you will understand as it plays out. In the best El- Spanyol he can muster, he shares the scene…
Employee: "seen-yor, seen-yor!!! Espedatay."
Narrator: Mr. Ortiz is oblivious, excited as all get out because he can get back to the hotel and rest…and then she reaches him. She pulls him by the arm, stopping him in his tracks. She is one brave Mexican girl, but then again they do say dynamite comes in small packages…
Employee: "seen-yor, el-receito, porfavor…agua es no sta-kee."
Art: "What?"
Employee: "Agua no sta-kee."
Narrator: He goes on to tell the kind, yet stern young woman that he does not understand Spanish. She rolls her eyes in disgust as if to say, "What kind of Mexican are you." To which he thinks, "Exactly, I'm from Oregon and I drive a rig." After checking the receipt to every item in the cart, it is pointed out to him that he neglected to pay for the water. She leads him back to the store. He explains that he did not intend to steal the water, but that the cashier forgot to charge him for it. After some laughter among them, he leaves the store and is off to his hotel.
(Act II – scene I – The hotel)
Narrator: With the rig unloaded, and groceries in hand, he walks to his room with a sigh of relief-which only lasts a few seconds because with one stroke of the key card he realizes he has been locked out of his room. A few loud sighs and a few bad words later, he puts the groceries back into the rig. Meanwhile his wife is beginning to feel a tad sorry for the dude, as she lovingly listens on the phone.
The office assistant giggles a bit while apologizing for the mistake and he is back in the room. He tells his beautiful wife he will call her after he naps. By now, his head is pounding he is hungry and tired.
(Act II – scene II – The headboard)
Cell phone chimes, notifying wife of a received text message
Cell Phone: "News flash. Headboard falls off wall in room, call soon."
Teresa: "Is everything okay? What's the deal with the headboard?"
Art: "Man, I can't get any rest. I was reaching over to see why the light wouldn't work--I moved the bed and the headboard came crashing down. So I went out, got my tools and fixed it myself. Now I am going to try to sleep. I'll call you later."
(Sunday: Late Evening Act III – scene I – Hotel parking lot)
Narrator: As Art nestles in bed, he drifts off to sleep. Finally, a peaceful moment after a hectic day. He won't wake until the alarm goes off at 3:30 am for work the next morning…..Or so he thought.
Telephone rings in Art's hotel room several times.
Art: "Hello."
Hotel operator: "Mr. Ortiz, I'm sorry to bother you, but can you please step outside of your room. The officers would like to speak with you a moment. It's likely that the tires on your vehicle have been slashed."
Art: "You have got to be kidding me. I'll be right out."
Narrator: "As he opens the door, the bright lights of the five police cars overwhelm his still sleepy eyes. "Excuse me Sir, is this your vehicle?" The officer says to him. Art is relieved to find that it was not his rig, but on the other hand was feeling quite bad for the owner of said vehicle.
It's now 11:30 pm and Art desperately tries to get back to sleep. As he lies in bed, he can't help but hear this strange music coming from the room across from him. "Those darn Mexicans", he thinks. "They don't need much of a reason to party." Apparently, all the excitement around the hotel gave cause to stay awake and turn on some music.
Mari-ochi music--or reeba, reeba music as the Mexican-slash-honky want-to-be, named Art would say.
And so ends one day in the life of this lad in a land far away from home and the story of, "Where the heck is my cart and what's the deal with the headboard.'"
THE END.
(C) Teresa Ortiz All rights reserved
We have had some fun conversations and some of the stories he has shared have amused me. Don't worry, I won't punish you with all of them, but knowing you are friends, I thought you might enjoy this one.
(Sunday: Early afternoon Act I – scene I - Wal-mart, Yuma, Az.)
Cell phone ringing ~ Keep on dancing, to the funky music, keep on dancing to th-
Teresa: "Hello?"
Art: "Hey baby. So, I'm almost done shopping, but I can't find the water, you should be so proud of me, I did so good finding everything else…"
Narrator: As he strolls up and down the aisles, he spots the water, "now where are the rock stars", he says to his wife. "Turn around they should be right across from the water." She replies.
After chitchatting about this and that, he gets to the front of the store, anxious and ready to get back to his room for some peace and quiet. He is after all, quite sick and needs to take the myriad of medications the pharmacist helped him find an hour earlier when he started shopping for the seven or 8 items he needed. (Maybe there were a few more items than that.)
Art: "Where would I find a map?"
Teresa: "They should be by the books in the front of the store; you should be able to see them from where you are."
Narrator: Walking up and down the front of store, he can't seem to locate the maps. He slowly begins to walk faster, breathe heavier and let out a big sigh of frustration. "These people are idiots", he says under his breath. "Why do they make things so hard to find", echoes repeatedly in his wife's ear as he continues to walk from one end of the store to the other.
Art: "Found them, finally. Now I'm outta here."
Narrator: As he heads back in the direction of his shopping cart, he begins to panic because it is nowhere in sight. His wife gently encourages him to look in the other direction. Again he walks to and fro all about the front of the store. "Where in the heck is my cart?" he shouts in his wife's ear with an exasperated tone. "Are you kidding me, do I have to do this all over again…I can't believe people…just leave my stuff alone…" His wife begins to laugh…thinking this is one of the rare times she can. She is no stranger to being made fun of so she is not keeping it a secret that she is relishing this moment.
Suddenly his wife hears laughter on the other end of the line--a girl's giggle. An employee notices this panic stricken man and comes to his aid. She sheepishly admits she brought his cart forward so it wasn't blocking the aisle. His wife listens in amusement as they carry on as if she is no longer on the phone.
Art: "Let me call you back in a few."
Teresa: "No problem, talk to later."
(ACT I – scene II – Wal-mart parking lot)
Narrator: Don't be fooled by the name Arthur Ortiz, it only sounds Mexican, and just because he is brown and very close to the border of Mexico, does not mean he knows a drop of Spanish--and this brown boy is about as honky as anyone can get--please, no offense intended. Only a necessary part of this scene as you will understand as it plays out. In the best El- Spanyol he can muster, he shares the scene…
Employee: "seen-yor, seen-yor!!! Espedatay."
Narrator: Mr. Ortiz is oblivious, excited as all get out because he can get back to the hotel and rest…and then she reaches him. She pulls him by the arm, stopping him in his tracks. She is one brave Mexican girl, but then again they do say dynamite comes in small packages…
Employee: "seen-yor, el-receito, porfavor…agua es no sta-kee."
Art: "What?"
Employee: "Agua no sta-kee."
Narrator: He goes on to tell the kind, yet stern young woman that he does not understand Spanish. She rolls her eyes in disgust as if to say, "What kind of Mexican are you." To which he thinks, "Exactly, I'm from Oregon and I drive a rig." After checking the receipt to every item in the cart, it is pointed out to him that he neglected to pay for the water. She leads him back to the store. He explains that he did not intend to steal the water, but that the cashier forgot to charge him for it. After some laughter among them, he leaves the store and is off to his hotel.
(Act II – scene I – The hotel)
Narrator: With the rig unloaded, and groceries in hand, he walks to his room with a sigh of relief-which only lasts a few seconds because with one stroke of the key card he realizes he has been locked out of his room. A few loud sighs and a few bad words later, he puts the groceries back into the rig. Meanwhile his wife is beginning to feel a tad sorry for the dude, as she lovingly listens on the phone.
The office assistant giggles a bit while apologizing for the mistake and he is back in the room. He tells his beautiful wife he will call her after he naps. By now, his head is pounding he is hungry and tired.
(Act II – scene II – The headboard)
Cell phone chimes, notifying wife of a received text message
Cell Phone: "News flash. Headboard falls off wall in room, call soon."
Teresa: "Is everything okay? What's the deal with the headboard?"
Art: "Man, I can't get any rest. I was reaching over to see why the light wouldn't work--I moved the bed and the headboard came crashing down. So I went out, got my tools and fixed it myself. Now I am going to try to sleep. I'll call you later."
(Sunday: Late Evening Act III – scene I – Hotel parking lot)
Narrator: As Art nestles in bed, he drifts off to sleep. Finally, a peaceful moment after a hectic day. He won't wake until the alarm goes off at 3:30 am for work the next morning…..Or so he thought.
Telephone rings in Art's hotel room several times.
Art: "Hello."
Hotel operator: "Mr. Ortiz, I'm sorry to bother you, but can you please step outside of your room. The officers would like to speak with you a moment. It's likely that the tires on your vehicle have been slashed."
Art: "You have got to be kidding me. I'll be right out."
Narrator: "As he opens the door, the bright lights of the five police cars overwhelm his still sleepy eyes. "Excuse me Sir, is this your vehicle?" The officer says to him. Art is relieved to find that it was not his rig, but on the other hand was feeling quite bad for the owner of said vehicle.
It's now 11:30 pm and Art desperately tries to get back to sleep. As he lies in bed, he can't help but hear this strange music coming from the room across from him. "Those darn Mexicans", he thinks. "They don't need much of a reason to party." Apparently, all the excitement around the hotel gave cause to stay awake and turn on some music.
Mari-ochi music--or reeba, reeba music as the Mexican-slash-honky want-to-be, named Art would say.
And so ends one day in the life of this lad in a land far away from home and the story of, "Where the heck is my cart and what's the deal with the headboard.'"
THE END.
(C) Teresa Ortiz All rights reserved
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