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
Showing posts with label Thinking out Loud. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Thinking out Loud. Show all posts
Aug 31, 2008
The One who was Slain - a Poem
I used to walk a road full of pain
Until I heard of the One who was slain
How deceived I was--just playing the game
Until I heard of the One who was slain
Enjoying the fun and feeling no shame
Until I heard of the One who was slain
Sin is fun--so very fun
As long as I'm not hurting anyone
Spiraling down a bumpy hill
As the sin in me has its fill
No where to run no where to hide
Ashamed of the man I am inside
Yes, I used to walk a road full of pain
Until I met the One who was slain
His light too bright--I turned away
Sin calling me back for another day
Why did I let it lead me astray?
My heart is sick--Sin no longer fun
Now I'm living on the run
Return to Me, cries out the Savior
Won't you let me do you a favor?
I am the One who can set you free
Please do not continue running from Me
Once again His light shines bright
This time I surrender to the warmth
Clinging to it with all my might
Now I know true peace joy and love
Having fun with the One from above
Sin no longer causing me shame-
For I have been washed--given a new name
By Jesus Christ the One who was slain
He is calling you--won't you do the same?
(C) Teresa Ortiz 2008
Until I heard of the One who was slain
How deceived I was--just playing the game
Until I heard of the One who was slain
Enjoying the fun and feeling no shame
Until I heard of the One who was slain
Sin is fun--so very fun
As long as I'm not hurting anyone
Spiraling down a bumpy hill
As the sin in me has its fill
No where to run no where to hide
Ashamed of the man I am inside
Yes, I used to walk a road full of pain
Until I met the One who was slain
His light too bright--I turned away
Sin calling me back for another day
Why did I let it lead me astray?
My heart is sick--Sin no longer fun
Now I'm living on the run
Return to Me, cries out the Savior
Won't you let me do you a favor?
I am the One who can set you free
Please do not continue running from Me
Once again His light shines bright
This time I surrender to the warmth
Clinging to it with all my might
Now I know true peace joy and love
Having fun with the One from above
Sin no longer causing me shame-
For I have been washed--given a new name
By Jesus Christ the One who was slain
He is calling you--won't you do the same?
(C) Teresa Ortiz 2008
Aug 9, 2008
Changing Seasons
We are in the process of moving…funny, I don't remember having this much junk when we moved in 10 years ago.
It's amazing all the emotions that come with moving, there is the excitement of the new things to come and then there are the tearful moments that come upon you before you even realize tears are streaming down your face.
Take today for instance. I was thrilled with the amount of junk I managed to stuff into one 33-lb heavy-duty Glad trash bag--that is until I tried to carry it outside. Anyway, I was singing a song while I climbed onto the kitchen counter top to clean the top of the cabinets... how in the world did all this dust get here? When I finished that task, or should I say, when I didn't feel like doing that anymore, I jumped down and went to the book shelf. I loaded half the books and then moved on to doing laundry.
You must be thinking; what a scatterbrain, why not do one room at a time? Well, here in lies my issue. At first, I am happy and then the realty of what I am really doing kicks in. Trying to avoid the inevitable, I move on to the next task, hoping for a different outcome.
No such luck.
Therefore, I decided to take a break. As I wandered toward my bedroom through the maze of boxes, I came across a special book entitled: "Ten Reasons why you are the best Parents in the World!"
This is a book that our children wrote and gave to us for Christmas 2000. Naturally, I had to read it. Here it is--exactly as written. You will need to use your imagination to see the drawings that accompany each reason.
# 1 – You always help us when we are sick!
Do you need anything? No thank you dad & mom.
# 2 – You always do what you tell us yore going to do.
Pictures of smiley faces and what appears to be a dog.
# 3 – You always say sorry when we get in to a argument.
# 4 – You are always there for us!
Do you want me to pick you up from school today? Yes please!
# 5 – You always take care of us!
We heart you!
# 6 – You always help us with our school work!
Do you need help? Sure! (No smiley faces in this drawing)
# 7 – You are always nice to us.
More smiley faces
# 8 – You always forgive us when we have done something wrong!
That's ok, don't do it again alright! Sorry mom.
# 9 – You always forgive us wen we get in a konflik.
Mean and crazed out faces with red eyes and snarled teeth.
#10 – You always make time for us!
Sure, but after I'm done here! Do you want to play a board game?
"It would take all the papper in the world to list all the reasons why you are the best parents in the world but we dont have that mutch papper so i guess we will just show you ok!"
Ah! When did the tears start flowing?
Please don't think I shared this amazing book with you to pat ourselves on the back. After all, the title of this story is Changing Seasons…
The tears bring joy and sadness. Joy, because this book represents a time when our children were young and naive. When they trusted us for all the answers and thought we were the smartest people on Earth. Sadness, because my soon to be 18 year old son, has suddenly realized he knows everything there is to know about life.
Just a few weeks back, we had a "konflik" about the house rules. Can you believe how stupid we are because we won't let him and his girlfriend hang out in his room with the door closed? What nerve!
Our son laid out his plan for the next year; save as much money as he can, move out with a couple of guys, and live his own life. "Not that I don't love you", he assures us. "Oh, and don't worry, I will finish high school."
In all honesty, it's not his failure that concerns me, it's his success. He is a very responsible young man and in many ways wise beyond his years. He works hard, pays his own bills, and stays out of trouble. He has been doing his own laundry since he was 11-years old and he knows how to cook-not even close to a Mama's boy.
My fear is that he won't remember to visit me or call me.
Daughters are different--no matter how far they move, they always stay in touch.
This move is proving to be harder than expected. It represents a season of change for each one of us. One thing I can be proud of and that is we are a close family and God has blessed us beyond measure. For this, I will choose to let these tears represent joy and excitement for the season that lies ahead.
© Teresa Ortiz
It's amazing all the emotions that come with moving, there is the excitement of the new things to come and then there are the tearful moments that come upon you before you even realize tears are streaming down your face.
Take today for instance. I was thrilled with the amount of junk I managed to stuff into one 33-lb heavy-duty Glad trash bag--that is until I tried to carry it outside. Anyway, I was singing a song while I climbed onto the kitchen counter top to clean the top of the cabinets... how in the world did all this dust get here? When I finished that task, or should I say, when I didn't feel like doing that anymore, I jumped down and went to the book shelf. I loaded half the books and then moved on to doing laundry.
You must be thinking; what a scatterbrain, why not do one room at a time? Well, here in lies my issue. At first, I am happy and then the realty of what I am really doing kicks in. Trying to avoid the inevitable, I move on to the next task, hoping for a different outcome.
No such luck.
Therefore, I decided to take a break. As I wandered toward my bedroom through the maze of boxes, I came across a special book entitled: "Ten Reasons why you are the best Parents in the World!"
This is a book that our children wrote and gave to us for Christmas 2000. Naturally, I had to read it. Here it is--exactly as written. You will need to use your imagination to see the drawings that accompany each reason.
# 1 – You always help us when we are sick!
Do you need anything? No thank you dad & mom.
# 2 – You always do what you tell us yore going to do.
Pictures of smiley faces and what appears to be a dog.
# 3 – You always say sorry when we get in to a argument.
# 4 – You are always there for us!
Do you want me to pick you up from school today? Yes please!
# 5 – You always take care of us!
We heart you!
# 6 – You always help us with our school work!
Do you need help? Sure! (No smiley faces in this drawing)
# 7 – You are always nice to us.
More smiley faces
# 8 – You always forgive us when we have done something wrong!
That's ok, don't do it again alright! Sorry mom.
# 9 – You always forgive us wen we get in a konflik.
Mean and crazed out faces with red eyes and snarled teeth.
#10 – You always make time for us!
Sure, but after I'm done here! Do you want to play a board game?
"It would take all the papper in the world to list all the reasons why you are the best parents in the world but we dont have that mutch papper so i guess we will just show you ok!"
Ah! When did the tears start flowing?
Please don't think I shared this amazing book with you to pat ourselves on the back. After all, the title of this story is Changing Seasons…
The tears bring joy and sadness. Joy, because this book represents a time when our children were young and naive. When they trusted us for all the answers and thought we were the smartest people on Earth. Sadness, because my soon to be 18 year old son, has suddenly realized he knows everything there is to know about life.
Just a few weeks back, we had a "konflik" about the house rules. Can you believe how stupid we are because we won't let him and his girlfriend hang out in his room with the door closed? What nerve!
Our son laid out his plan for the next year; save as much money as he can, move out with a couple of guys, and live his own life. "Not that I don't love you", he assures us. "Oh, and don't worry, I will finish high school."
In all honesty, it's not his failure that concerns me, it's his success. He is a very responsible young man and in many ways wise beyond his years. He works hard, pays his own bills, and stays out of trouble. He has been doing his own laundry since he was 11-years old and he knows how to cook-not even close to a Mama's boy.
My fear is that he won't remember to visit me or call me.
Daughters are different--no matter how far they move, they always stay in touch.
This move is proving to be harder than expected. It represents a season of change for each one of us. One thing I can be proud of and that is we are a close family and God has blessed us beyond measure. For this, I will choose to let these tears represent joy and excitement for the season that lies ahead.
© Teresa Ortiz
Stupid Machines, Thoughts and Heaven's Front Row
I have a confession to make. I have issues with fax machines. Everyone in my office knows this is true. It's quite comical, actually. It takes three to four times for one fax to go through. I am convinced the fax machine hates me! I mean really, I type the numbers in correctly each time-I never make a mistake and if the number turns out to be wrong, it is because the machine refuses to accept what I type in….stupid machine.
However, last week was tops; for the first time I began to think that maybe, just maybe, I might have to share some responsibility in how this machine was responding to my request.
What I am about to share is quite personal and puts me in a very vulnerable position and I would hope that you would refrain from doing what the average human being would do…
Just like every other time, I walked over to the machine, put my forms in and began to type in the numbers… What is the deal, stupid machine, the keys must be stuck…wait a few seconds and try again…. I was just about to call out to someone to share my frustration with the stupid fax machine when suddenly the machine miraculously begins to shout, "You stupid, stupid girl, I am the copy machine!"
You can imagine how embarrassed I was. Did anyone see me? I can play it off and no one will be the wiser…No, I didn't have it in me. This is just too good to keep to myself. After all, the girls in the office have come to expect such behavior from me and who am I to disappoint?
~~~~~
Unfortunately, for me, this story is true. Nevertheless, I hope it serves as a practical lesson on how most of us think when we find ourselves in any kind of confrontation. Consider your last tiff--what was your first thought? Were you quick to accept responsibility? In all honesty, we tend to spend more time defending our position than we do in listening to the other party's point of view. Why is this? I believe it comes from our desire to be right. It somehow makes us feel important and strong.
There is no greater example of the "I'm right and your wrong" attitude than in the Christian community. All we have to do is look at the countless denominations within the Christian church to know it's true. They fight about who has it right, why their particular denomination has it better, and they act as if they believe that they will get to sit in the front row in heaven. In many cases, Jesus is left out of the equation completely. It has become a fight for religion instead of helping others to build a relationship with God.
When people ask me what religion I am, I respond with, I am not a religious person. It usually throws them for a loop. I explain that I am a Christian. Christianity in the biblical sense of the word has nothing to do with religion at all. (At least not man-made.) It is a way of life. It is exchanging my life for a life with God.
The name Christian was given by people who did not follow Christ, but noticed that those who claimed to believe in Jesus as the Messiah, actually followed him and their changed lives were evidence of that profession. The name stuck and is recorded in the Bible just three times (Acts 11:26, Acts 26:28 and 1 Peter 4:16.)
Most often, those who surrendered their lives to God by trusting in Jesus for salvation were simply called, Believers.
So why did it all change? Sadly enough, the answer is quite simple. It started with the Catholic Church becoming the first self-proclaimed one true church. It set up rules and teachings that were never taught in the Bible. The word of God was spread throughout the regions by way of letter and as we slow down and read the little words, we see that they were always addressed to the church in such and such a place, not the church of such and such a place.
Though man made it necessary to split over important biblical doctrines of Christianity, we have really gone off the deep end. Churches split over stupid reasons that have nothing to do with salvation and living a godly life. "You have to wear a dress to church." You can't smoke." "You have to be baptized in our church or it doesn't count." etc..
Paul says it well in the letter to the church in Colossi:
"So let no one judge you in food or in drink, or regarding a festival or a new moon or Sabbaths, which are a shadow of things to come, but the substance is of Christ. Let no one cheat you of your reward, taking delight in false humility and worship of angels, intruding into those things which he has not seen, vainly puffed up by his fleshly mind, and not holding fast to the Head [Jesus], from whom the body, nourished and knit together by joints and ligaments, grows with the increase that comes from God. Therefore, if you died with Christ from the basic principles of the world, why, as though living in the world, do you subject yourselves to regulations-Do not touch, do not taste, do not handle, which all perish with the using-according to the commandments and doctrines of men? These things indeed have an appearance of wisdom and self-imposed religion, false humility, and neglect of the body, but are of no value against the indulgence of the flesh." Colossians 2:16-23
Need I say more? So while we are fighting amongst ourselves over religious do's and do not's, the world is sitting back saying, "I want no part of that".
There will be no pew reserved for the Pentecostal, nor the Baptist, nor the Catholic, or any other for that matter. The only pews reserved in heaven are for those who are followers of Christ, those who have made Jesus their Lord, not a man made denomination. After all, what we claim is who we are. If I claim to be a Baptist, then I am putting myself under the flaws of the Baptist name. The Bible says there is no other name under heaven by which we must be saved, then the name of Jesus the Christ. This is with whom I identify myself.
Why do you believe as you do? Do you stand for something you have never researched for yourself? Are you willing to change your thought if the bible told you otherwise? These are important questions. Yet, if we are going to be professing faith in Christ, we must have a heart for his word and not be sold out to our denomination just because it's a family tradition.
We have left the simplicity of a relationship with Christ and replaced it with self-imposed religion. Isn't this why Jesus rebuked the Pharisees? The church has become nothing more than an ineffective modern day Pharisee.
However, we do have a model for true biblical religion; this should be our aim as Believers:
"If anyone among you thinks he is religious, and does not bridle his tongue, but deceives his own heart, this one's religion is useless. Pure and undefiled religion before God and the Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their trouble, and to keep oneself unspotted from the world." James 1:26-27
What a novel idea! Can you imagine how life would be if we did more practicing than preaching?
If our hearts were truly in the right place, we would take the time to learn from one another and perhaps give up our front row pew for the sake of another. God help us.
~~~~~
Stupid Machines.
© Teresa Ortiz
However, last week was tops; for the first time I began to think that maybe, just maybe, I might have to share some responsibility in how this machine was responding to my request.
What I am about to share is quite personal and puts me in a very vulnerable position and I would hope that you would refrain from doing what the average human being would do…
Just like every other time, I walked over to the machine, put my forms in and began to type in the numbers… What is the deal, stupid machine, the keys must be stuck…wait a few seconds and try again…. I was just about to call out to someone to share my frustration with the stupid fax machine when suddenly the machine miraculously begins to shout, "You stupid, stupid girl, I am the copy machine!"
You can imagine how embarrassed I was. Did anyone see me? I can play it off and no one will be the wiser…No, I didn't have it in me. This is just too good to keep to myself. After all, the girls in the office have come to expect such behavior from me and who am I to disappoint?
~~~~~
Unfortunately, for me, this story is true. Nevertheless, I hope it serves as a practical lesson on how most of us think when we find ourselves in any kind of confrontation. Consider your last tiff--what was your first thought? Were you quick to accept responsibility? In all honesty, we tend to spend more time defending our position than we do in listening to the other party's point of view. Why is this? I believe it comes from our desire to be right. It somehow makes us feel important and strong.
There is no greater example of the "I'm right and your wrong" attitude than in the Christian community. All we have to do is look at the countless denominations within the Christian church to know it's true. They fight about who has it right, why their particular denomination has it better, and they act as if they believe that they will get to sit in the front row in heaven. In many cases, Jesus is left out of the equation completely. It has become a fight for religion instead of helping others to build a relationship with God.
When people ask me what religion I am, I respond with, I am not a religious person. It usually throws them for a loop. I explain that I am a Christian. Christianity in the biblical sense of the word has nothing to do with religion at all. (At least not man-made.) It is a way of life. It is exchanging my life for a life with God.
The name Christian was given by people who did not follow Christ, but noticed that those who claimed to believe in Jesus as the Messiah, actually followed him and their changed lives were evidence of that profession. The name stuck and is recorded in the Bible just three times (Acts 11:26, Acts 26:28 and 1 Peter 4:16.)
Most often, those who surrendered their lives to God by trusting in Jesus for salvation were simply called, Believers.
So why did it all change? Sadly enough, the answer is quite simple. It started with the Catholic Church becoming the first self-proclaimed one true church. It set up rules and teachings that were never taught in the Bible. The word of God was spread throughout the regions by way of letter and as we slow down and read the little words, we see that they were always addressed to the church in such and such a place, not the church of such and such a place.
Though man made it necessary to split over important biblical doctrines of Christianity, we have really gone off the deep end. Churches split over stupid reasons that have nothing to do with salvation and living a godly life. "You have to wear a dress to church." You can't smoke." "You have to be baptized in our church or it doesn't count." etc..
Paul says it well in the letter to the church in Colossi:
"So let no one judge you in food or in drink, or regarding a festival or a new moon or Sabbaths, which are a shadow of things to come, but the substance is of Christ. Let no one cheat you of your reward, taking delight in false humility and worship of angels, intruding into those things which he has not seen, vainly puffed up by his fleshly mind, and not holding fast to the Head [Jesus], from whom the body, nourished and knit together by joints and ligaments, grows with the increase that comes from God. Therefore, if you died with Christ from the basic principles of the world, why, as though living in the world, do you subject yourselves to regulations-Do not touch, do not taste, do not handle, which all perish with the using-according to the commandments and doctrines of men? These things indeed have an appearance of wisdom and self-imposed religion, false humility, and neglect of the body, but are of no value against the indulgence of the flesh." Colossians 2:16-23
Need I say more? So while we are fighting amongst ourselves over religious do's and do not's, the world is sitting back saying, "I want no part of that".
There will be no pew reserved for the Pentecostal, nor the Baptist, nor the Catholic, or any other for that matter. The only pews reserved in heaven are for those who are followers of Christ, those who have made Jesus their Lord, not a man made denomination. After all, what we claim is who we are. If I claim to be a Baptist, then I am putting myself under the flaws of the Baptist name. The Bible says there is no other name under heaven by which we must be saved, then the name of Jesus the Christ. This is with whom I identify myself.
Why do you believe as you do? Do you stand for something you have never researched for yourself? Are you willing to change your thought if the bible told you otherwise? These are important questions. Yet, if we are going to be professing faith in Christ, we must have a heart for his word and not be sold out to our denomination just because it's a family tradition.
We have left the simplicity of a relationship with Christ and replaced it with self-imposed religion. Isn't this why Jesus rebuked the Pharisees? The church has become nothing more than an ineffective modern day Pharisee.
However, we do have a model for true biblical religion; this should be our aim as Believers:
"If anyone among you thinks he is religious, and does not bridle his tongue, but deceives his own heart, this one's religion is useless. Pure and undefiled religion before God and the Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their trouble, and to keep oneself unspotted from the world." James 1:26-27
What a novel idea! Can you imagine how life would be if we did more practicing than preaching?
If our hearts were truly in the right place, we would take the time to learn from one another and perhaps give up our front row pew for the sake of another. God help us.
~~~~~
Stupid Machines.
© Teresa Ortiz
Apr 16, 2008
I Don't Want to do my Taxes So I'm Writing An Article Instead
Happy day after tax day! I trust all is well with you as you walk with Jesus.
This was me a few days ago~~~
All week long I have been looking at my pile of mass destruction. Tonight I am starting my taxes. So what if I have been telling everyone I come in contact with this same thing for the last three weeks? Well, this isn't entirely true, I have been saying this since February 14, 2008.
However, tonight is different. As soon as I am done with this article, which as I type, I'm still not sure is about, I'll get right on it. I promise. But first, I'll need to do some laundry so that I have clean clothes for tomorrow... and the dogs do need a bath. Why should they have to go to bed feeling dingy just because I have taxes to do?
The truth of the matter is, there is a very good reason I don't want to do them and that is because it brings back the painful memory of how February 15th unfolded.
It truly was the day I was going to start my taxes. Instead, It was one of those days when your whole world as you know it comes to a screeching halt and nothing else matters....
What do you do when someone you love hurts someone you love?
This has been life's lesson for my husband and me. Will we pass this test? Will we practice what we preach? Will we extend our hand of unconditional love and forgiveness? By the grace of God, we did. NO, it wasn't easy. The process is down right torturous, but one that brought about deeper love, patience and understanding for the one who betrayed the other. I am sure there are many who have been where we have just come from, or maybe you are in this situation now and are finding that anger and hatred are taking over.
(I share my thoughts for two reasons. One, I really do need to get this out of my system so I can do my taxes, and two, it is my hope and prayer that our experience will help others.)
Upon hearing the news, we cried in disbelief, then proceeded to get angry. Betrayal in my opinion, is an act of terror to the soul of the betrayed. Watching the one who has been hurt come to the realization that they have been manipulated and lied to while being smiled at is a pain that cannot be described. It can only be understood by one who has experienced it first hand.
As we had time to digest this new information, it became clear that the betrayer had some very real problems that needed to be addressed. As Christians, we could not turn our backs on this person; we needed to reach out with the love of God--the unconditional love that we ourselves continuously receive. Every one of us has secret hurts--things that we bury deep within our hearts which inevitably shape our behaviors. Understanding our own sin and secret hurts allowed us to embrace with a heart of love in spite of our flesh, which was screaming something different.
During this same time, we were able to be thankful that God allowed these things to be revealed at just the right time. And though it was the worst few weeks emotionally, it turned out to be the best thing that could have ever happened. Our family is stronger, our hearts are healing and we are excited about the plans that God has in store for everyone involved.
Love is a decision. I won't lie, sometimes the anger creeps in and my thoughts go places they need not be: How dare he do this to my family, what a jerk, etc. Then I remember how God had mercy on me when I was in my sinful state.
Forgive me Father. Heal his heart, make him whole, change his behavior and give him a brand new start.
Some might ask, "What of the one who was hurt, don't their feelings count?" The answer is yes, absolutely! Because we have been able to forgive the one, we have been able to minister more effectively to the other. Why? Because we are not adding insult to injury by trash talking the one they care deeply for. Instead, we are able to comfort and encourage with a sincere heart and our prayers are not hindered by unforgiveness and anger.
This is a reminder that God is faithful and the only one who will not disappoint. The lesson here is never put someone on a pedestal because of outward appearances and remember to pray for ourselves and our loved ones because temptation comes in many forms. Above all, love on purpose.
As I wrote in the beginning, I am going to do laundry and give the dogs a bath.
Sweet dreams Uncle Sam. ~~~
Be blessed as you walk with Jesus
This was me a few days ago~~~
All week long I have been looking at my pile of mass destruction. Tonight I am starting my taxes. So what if I have been telling everyone I come in contact with this same thing for the last three weeks? Well, this isn't entirely true, I have been saying this since February 14, 2008.
However, tonight is different. As soon as I am done with this article, which as I type, I'm still not sure is about, I'll get right on it. I promise. But first, I'll need to do some laundry so that I have clean clothes for tomorrow... and the dogs do need a bath. Why should they have to go to bed feeling dingy just because I have taxes to do?
The truth of the matter is, there is a very good reason I don't want to do them and that is because it brings back the painful memory of how February 15th unfolded.
It truly was the day I was going to start my taxes. Instead, It was one of those days when your whole world as you know it comes to a screeching halt and nothing else matters....
What do you do when someone you love hurts someone you love?
This has been life's lesson for my husband and me. Will we pass this test? Will we practice what we preach? Will we extend our hand of unconditional love and forgiveness? By the grace of God, we did. NO, it wasn't easy. The process is down right torturous, but one that brought about deeper love, patience and understanding for the one who betrayed the other. I am sure there are many who have been where we have just come from, or maybe you are in this situation now and are finding that anger and hatred are taking over.
(I share my thoughts for two reasons. One, I really do need to get this out of my system so I can do my taxes, and two, it is my hope and prayer that our experience will help others.)
Upon hearing the news, we cried in disbelief, then proceeded to get angry. Betrayal in my opinion, is an act of terror to the soul of the betrayed. Watching the one who has been hurt come to the realization that they have been manipulated and lied to while being smiled at is a pain that cannot be described. It can only be understood by one who has experienced it first hand.
As we had time to digest this new information, it became clear that the betrayer had some very real problems that needed to be addressed. As Christians, we could not turn our backs on this person; we needed to reach out with the love of God--the unconditional love that we ourselves continuously receive. Every one of us has secret hurts--things that we bury deep within our hearts which inevitably shape our behaviors. Understanding our own sin and secret hurts allowed us to embrace with a heart of love in spite of our flesh, which was screaming something different.
During this same time, we were able to be thankful that God allowed these things to be revealed at just the right time. And though it was the worst few weeks emotionally, it turned out to be the best thing that could have ever happened. Our family is stronger, our hearts are healing and we are excited about the plans that God has in store for everyone involved.
Love is a decision. I won't lie, sometimes the anger creeps in and my thoughts go places they need not be: How dare he do this to my family, what a jerk, etc. Then I remember how God had mercy on me when I was in my sinful state.
Forgive me Father. Heal his heart, make him whole, change his behavior and give him a brand new start.
Some might ask, "What of the one who was hurt, don't their feelings count?" The answer is yes, absolutely! Because we have been able to forgive the one, we have been able to minister more effectively to the other. Why? Because we are not adding insult to injury by trash talking the one they care deeply for. Instead, we are able to comfort and encourage with a sincere heart and our prayers are not hindered by unforgiveness and anger.
This is a reminder that God is faithful and the only one who will not disappoint. The lesson here is never put someone on a pedestal because of outward appearances and remember to pray for ourselves and our loved ones because temptation comes in many forms. Above all, love on purpose.
As I wrote in the beginning, I am going to do laundry and give the dogs a bath.
Sweet dreams Uncle Sam. ~~~
Be blessed as you walk with Jesus
Mar 26, 2008
Miscommunication Can Bring a Mother to Tears
Not too long ago, my daughter went to Hawaii to visit a childhood friend. It was tough as I left her at the airport. This was the first time she was flying alone.
She had made all of the arrangements. I was so proud of her, she didn't ask for my help in any part of the process. The only information she gave me was that she was leaving on a Wednesday and coming home the following Tuesday.
Easy enough.
It was a long week for me as this was the first time she had gone out of the state without parental supervision. She would check in occasionally with a text to comfort my heart...
"Mom, I jst jmped off a cliff! It was awsme, I lve u"
"u what? I'm so happy u r hving fun"
In my opinion I would have been much happier if she would have said something like,
" Mom, just lazing around on the beach reading a book. Having the time of my life!"
Now that's a comforting text!
It's Monday night and I send her a little text confirming the time of her arrival...
" What time does your plane land?"
"7 am. So sorry, thanks mom."
" No prob, see you then. Lve u"
I was pretty proud at how my texting capabilities had improved over the past week.
(You must know that the reason she said sorry in regards to the time of her arrival is because I had to get up at 3:30 in the morning to get to the airport on time.)
My niece was kind enough to make the drive with me, so off we went. This is where the real story begins.
The flight was delayed just a bit. We waited anxiously to see her and hear all about the trip.
Finally! 7:25 am--passengers are coming into the terminal. Each of them looking nice and tan with big smiles on their faces. One by one, they passed by. Where is Britt?
"Michelle, we must have missed her, let's go to the baggage claim area"
7:45 am.
No sign of Brittany, no unclaimed bags, and no text. We called her only to get her voice mail.
Can I just say how incredibly angry I was when the woman at the front desk would not check the passenger list?
"If she isn't a minor, we cannot give you any information."
This is never the right thing to say to a mother!
8:15 am.
Okay, Lord, don't let me freak out here. Maybe she decided to stay another day. But why didn't she call me?
My heart is now beating fast and I am extremely frustrated.
"Michelle, give me your phone!" I must have dialed ten times and finally...
"H-e-l-l-o"
"Where are you!"
"I'm sleeping, why are you yelling at me?"
"I'm not yelling at you! I'm worried!"
" Why?"
"We are at the airport waiting for you!"
"O my gosh mom, I don't get in til tomorrow morning"
I could hardly talk through my tears.
"You told me you came home Tuesday."
"Mom, I leave for home Tuesday night, but my plane lands Wednesday morning."
"Go back to sleep hon, I'll see you in the morning."
As a parent, I am sure you can just imagine how many unspoken thoughts went through my head. Do you want to know the best part? I had to do it all over again the next morning! I must love getting up early in the morning and going on five hour round-trip drives. My husband and son just laughed and said I had another Lucy moment. ( I have these a lot.)
It's Wednesday night all is calm, Britt is home. My son is getting ready to go to bed. After he gives his dad a hug, he looks at me. He just couldn't resist:
"Hey mom."
"Hey what?"
"Don't go to the airport in the morning, Britt's home." "Thanks J."
"Britt, I don't care if you are fifty, If I am responsible for picking you up, I get a copy of the itinerary!"
" Yes, mom."
And so concludes another ordinary day in the Ortiz household. Thanks for reading.
(C) Teresa Ortiz
She had made all of the arrangements. I was so proud of her, she didn't ask for my help in any part of the process. The only information she gave me was that she was leaving on a Wednesday and coming home the following Tuesday.
Easy enough.
It was a long week for me as this was the first time she had gone out of the state without parental supervision. She would check in occasionally with a text to comfort my heart...
"Mom, I jst jmped off a cliff! It was awsme, I lve u"
"u what? I'm so happy u r hving fun"
In my opinion I would have been much happier if she would have said something like,
" Mom, just lazing around on the beach reading a book. Having the time of my life!"
Now that's a comforting text!
It's Monday night and I send her a little text confirming the time of her arrival...
" What time does your plane land?"
"7 am. So sorry, thanks mom."
" No prob, see you then. Lve u"
I was pretty proud at how my texting capabilities had improved over the past week.
(You must know that the reason she said sorry in regards to the time of her arrival is because I had to get up at 3:30 in the morning to get to the airport on time.)
My niece was kind enough to make the drive with me, so off we went. This is where the real story begins.
The flight was delayed just a bit. We waited anxiously to see her and hear all about the trip.
Finally! 7:25 am--passengers are coming into the terminal. Each of them looking nice and tan with big smiles on their faces. One by one, they passed by. Where is Britt?
"Michelle, we must have missed her, let's go to the baggage claim area"
7:45 am.
No sign of Brittany, no unclaimed bags, and no text. We called her only to get her voice mail.
Can I just say how incredibly angry I was when the woman at the front desk would not check the passenger list?
"If she isn't a minor, we cannot give you any information."
This is never the right thing to say to a mother!
8:15 am.
Okay, Lord, don't let me freak out here. Maybe she decided to stay another day. But why didn't she call me?
My heart is now beating fast and I am extremely frustrated.
"Michelle, give me your phone!" I must have dialed ten times and finally...
"H-e-l-l-o"
"Where are you!"
"I'm sleeping, why are you yelling at me?"
"I'm not yelling at you! I'm worried!"
" Why?"
"We are at the airport waiting for you!"
"O my gosh mom, I don't get in til tomorrow morning"
I could hardly talk through my tears.
"You told me you came home Tuesday."
"Mom, I leave for home Tuesday night, but my plane lands Wednesday morning."
"Go back to sleep hon, I'll see you in the morning."
As a parent, I am sure you can just imagine how many unspoken thoughts went through my head. Do you want to know the best part? I had to do it all over again the next morning! I must love getting up early in the morning and going on five hour round-trip drives. My husband and son just laughed and said I had another Lucy moment. ( I have these a lot.)
It's Wednesday night all is calm, Britt is home. My son is getting ready to go to bed. After he gives his dad a hug, he looks at me. He just couldn't resist:
"Hey mom."
"Hey what?"
"Don't go to the airport in the morning, Britt's home." "Thanks J."
"Britt, I don't care if you are fifty, If I am responsible for picking you up, I get a copy of the itinerary!"
" Yes, mom."
And so concludes another ordinary day in the Ortiz household. Thanks for reading.
(C) Teresa Ortiz
Feb 15, 2008
A Love Letter from God to His Far Away Child
My beloved child,
I am writing this letter because my knocks on the door of your heart have gone unanswered.
I miss our time together and I long to hold you in my arms once again. I know you have your reasons for leaving me behind, but as I tried to tell you so many times, I was not the cause of the things that happened to you. You live in a fallen world, and many have chosen the way of sin which leads to a life that will have its struggles. However, I am here for you and if you had stuck by me, things would not have gotten out of control.
Nevertheless, I understand and I am l here, waiting with open arms. In fact, I would run to you if I saw you coming back.
I still love you and no matter how far you've gone, I am willing and able to bring you back. It only takes a simple call. No matter how quiet your whisper, I can hear you - actually, you do not even need to speak, I can read your thoughts.
I am jealous for you - you have turned to false gods; customs, people and things that promise healing but in reality are causing you more harm, eternal harm. I can see it; I know the beginning from the end. Please come back, I will not condemn you or say, "I told you so".
I love you with an everlasting love. My heart rejoices when I think of you. I have such great plans for you, I bid you come - seek me with your whole heart, I promise to meet with you and reveal the great plans I have for you. My heart breaks because you are missing out on the best. What more do I need to do to prove my love? I died so that you may have an abundant life. Don't merely "survive", come home.
I have so much more to share with you, but I will close for now. Please, do not throw this letter away, I am still standing outside - will you open the door? I just want a few minutes of your time. Then then you can decide if you want me to stay or leave you alone, I will respect your choice.
Your forever love,
Jesus
The Lord put this on my heart a few days ago; I have not been able to shake the thought. I believe the Lord is calling you back-you hear him and you may have even shed a tear. Please, do not tune Him out. I dedicate this song to God; I share it with you, it is my life's anthem.
Almighty God, the Great I Am,
Immovable rock, omnipotent, powerful,
Awesome Lord – victorious Warrior, commanding
King of Kings, Mighty conqueror, and the only time,
The only time I ever saw Him run,
Was when He ran to me, took me in His arms,
Held my head to His chest-
Said, "My son's come home again"
He lifted my face, wiped those tears from my eyes,
With forgiveness in His voice, He said,
Son, do you know I still love you?
He caught me by surprise, when God ran.
The day I left home, I know I'd broken His heart,
And I wondered if things could ever be the same,
Then one night I remembered His love for me,
And down that dusty road ahead I could see, It was the
Only time, the only time I ever saw Him run….
I saw Him run to me…. And then I ran to Him.
Benny Hester/John Parent 1986 Word Music, Inc/ASCAP
I'm praying for you – Jeremiah 29:11-14
I am writing this letter because my knocks on the door of your heart have gone unanswered.
I miss our time together and I long to hold you in my arms once again. I know you have your reasons for leaving me behind, but as I tried to tell you so many times, I was not the cause of the things that happened to you. You live in a fallen world, and many have chosen the way of sin which leads to a life that will have its struggles. However, I am here for you and if you had stuck by me, things would not have gotten out of control.
Nevertheless, I understand and I am l here, waiting with open arms. In fact, I would run to you if I saw you coming back.
I still love you and no matter how far you've gone, I am willing and able to bring you back. It only takes a simple call. No matter how quiet your whisper, I can hear you - actually, you do not even need to speak, I can read your thoughts.
I am jealous for you - you have turned to false gods; customs, people and things that promise healing but in reality are causing you more harm, eternal harm. I can see it; I know the beginning from the end. Please come back, I will not condemn you or say, "I told you so".
I love you with an everlasting love. My heart rejoices when I think of you. I have such great plans for you, I bid you come - seek me with your whole heart, I promise to meet with you and reveal the great plans I have for you. My heart breaks because you are missing out on the best. What more do I need to do to prove my love? I died so that you may have an abundant life. Don't merely "survive", come home.
I have so much more to share with you, but I will close for now. Please, do not throw this letter away, I am still standing outside - will you open the door? I just want a few minutes of your time. Then then you can decide if you want me to stay or leave you alone, I will respect your choice.
Your forever love,
Jesus
The Lord put this on my heart a few days ago; I have not been able to shake the thought. I believe the Lord is calling you back-you hear him and you may have even shed a tear. Please, do not tune Him out. I dedicate this song to God; I share it with you, it is my life's anthem.
When God ran
Almighty God, the Great I Am,
Immovable rock, omnipotent, powerful,
Awesome Lord – victorious Warrior, commanding
King of Kings, Mighty conqueror, and the only time,
The only time I ever saw Him run,
Was when He ran to me, took me in His arms,
Held my head to His chest-
Said, "My son's come home again"
He lifted my face, wiped those tears from my eyes,
With forgiveness in His voice, He said,
Son, do you know I still love you?
He caught me by surprise, when God ran.
The day I left home, I know I'd broken His heart,
And I wondered if things could ever be the same,
Then one night I remembered His love for me,
And down that dusty road ahead I could see, It was the
Only time, the only time I ever saw Him run….
I saw Him run to me…. And then I ran to Him.
Benny Hester/John Parent 1986 Word Music, Inc/ASCAP
I'm praying for you – Jeremiah 29:11-14
Feb 8, 2008
It was just another ordinary day - my son, Justin and I were sitting around talking about this and that.... "Mom, what would you say if I told you I wanted an eye piercing?" "Only losers and druggies have piercings!"
The words came out of my mouth so fast, I didn't even know I said them until I was done with my sentence - my heart was pumping and I was immediately in a bad mood. "I'm just kidding, don't freak out on me". "Don't joke about a thing like that."
There was an odd silence in the room; I don't know what his problem was, but he went into his room and closed the door rather loudly. " What was that all about", I thought to myself. Oh Well, I guess I'll turn on some music and start cleaning. To my shame, I never thought my actions through.
(O' Lord, why do you even put up with me?)
Three weeks later, my husband and are having breakfast, I know something is on his mind as there was that same odd silence I had experienced with my son. (Here it comes, though I never expected the "it" to be this!) "I know how you feel about piercings.... 'he isn't going to say it'... but
I talked with Justin and he really wants to have one." "You hurt his feelings when you told him only losers and druggies have piercings". "Well, it's true!" "Calm down, Teresa, what is the big deal - Justin is doing great in school, he has a job, he doesn't get into trouble, he is paying for his own dirt-bike... should I go on?"
I couldn't hold back the tears, "First he doesn't want to go to church anymore, and now this?" Then the real issue comes to surface; what will other people think!
My husband knew I was being irrational, so being the wise man that he is, he told me that he would leave me alone until I could be reasonable.
It's been said over and over that God works in mysterious ways, it is so true! During this time I was preparing for the women's conference I was to be speaking at in just 6 weeks. I had been praying about what stories I would be sharing. The topic was "Recovering from Doubt and Restoring Joy One Step at a Time". "You are so funny, Lord, isn't just like you to give me a new story".
As I cleaned the house, I whined to my Lord, trying to get Him to understand my point of view and to change my husband's rediculous way of thinking. "Teresa, my child, you know I love you and you know I love Justin, you have been preaching and teaching unconditional love and acceptance - Is this what you are doing"? "Yes, but this is different, this is my child."
All at once, the conviction and shame came flooding to my heart. ( Forgive me, Father for having this attitude. I know that no one is a loser in your eyes - you didn't give up on me.) I knew I was wrong. I knew I had to deal with this - going back to the very first conversation with my son.
"Justin, can we talk"? I told him I was sorry for being selfish and inconsiderate. I told him that I loved him and that I was being completely irrational. He forgave me, but not before he told me that I needed to practice what I preached. I deserved it.
With the appointment set, I had three weeks to align my heart with the decision I made in my head. I prayed and prayed that God would change my heart.
The hour had come. "Mom, are you okay, you don't have to come if you don't want to." "No way, I am coming and I am not upset at all. God has changed my heart." He didn't say another word, but at that moment, I became a mind reader: Okay, mom, but if you say anything....
I have to say, once I saw it, it actually looked cool; it wasn't this big bulky spike I expected to see. We went out to dinner and had a wonderful time. My "inside matched my outside", as I used to tell the preschool Sunday school class.
The days that followed were even more special. My son and I had become much closer as I showed him what unconditional love was all about. "You know mom, it's kinda ironic that you help me everday to clean and change my piercing everytime I have to go to work".
My son laughed when he heard me pray, "Lord, please don't let this get infected and help me get the little bally thingy in place, I can't see the hole". "Thanks, mom, I love you."
"Hey mom, so am I a loser and a druggie? " No son, you're not a loser or a druggie."
(C) Teresa Ortiz
The words came out of my mouth so fast, I didn't even know I said them until I was done with my sentence - my heart was pumping and I was immediately in a bad mood. "I'm just kidding, don't freak out on me". "Don't joke about a thing like that."
There was an odd silence in the room; I don't know what his problem was, but he went into his room and closed the door rather loudly. " What was that all about", I thought to myself. Oh Well, I guess I'll turn on some music and start cleaning. To my shame, I never thought my actions through.
(O' Lord, why do you even put up with me?)
Three weeks later, my husband and are having breakfast, I know something is on his mind as there was that same odd silence I had experienced with my son. (Here it comes, though I never expected the "it" to be this!) "I know how you feel about piercings.... 'he isn't going to say it'... but
I talked with Justin and he really wants to have one." "You hurt his feelings when you told him only losers and druggies have piercings". "Well, it's true!" "Calm down, Teresa, what is the big deal - Justin is doing great in school, he has a job, he doesn't get into trouble, he is paying for his own dirt-bike... should I go on?"
I couldn't hold back the tears, "First he doesn't want to go to church anymore, and now this?" Then the real issue comes to surface; what will other people think!
My husband knew I was being irrational, so being the wise man that he is, he told me that he would leave me alone until I could be reasonable.
It's been said over and over that God works in mysterious ways, it is so true! During this time I was preparing for the women's conference I was to be speaking at in just 6 weeks. I had been praying about what stories I would be sharing. The topic was "Recovering from Doubt and Restoring Joy One Step at a Time". "You are so funny, Lord, isn't just like you to give me a new story".
As I cleaned the house, I whined to my Lord, trying to get Him to understand my point of view and to change my husband's rediculous way of thinking. "Teresa, my child, you know I love you and you know I love Justin, you have been preaching and teaching unconditional love and acceptance - Is this what you are doing"? "Yes, but this is different, this is my child."
All at once, the conviction and shame came flooding to my heart. ( Forgive me, Father for having this attitude. I know that no one is a loser in your eyes - you didn't give up on me.) I knew I was wrong. I knew I had to deal with this - going back to the very first conversation with my son.
"Justin, can we talk"? I told him I was sorry for being selfish and inconsiderate. I told him that I loved him and that I was being completely irrational. He forgave me, but not before he told me that I needed to practice what I preached. I deserved it.
With the appointment set, I had three weeks to align my heart with the decision I made in my head. I prayed and prayed that God would change my heart.
The hour had come. "Mom, are you okay, you don't have to come if you don't want to." "No way, I am coming and I am not upset at all. God has changed my heart." He didn't say another word, but at that moment, I became a mind reader: Okay, mom, but if you say anything....
I have to say, once I saw it, it actually looked cool; it wasn't this big bulky spike I expected to see. We went out to dinner and had a wonderful time. My "inside matched my outside", as I used to tell the preschool Sunday school class.
The days that followed were even more special. My son and I had become much closer as I showed him what unconditional love was all about. "You know mom, it's kinda ironic that you help me everday to clean and change my piercing everytime I have to go to work".
My son laughed when he heard me pray, "Lord, please don't let this get infected and help me get the little bally thingy in place, I can't see the hole". "Thanks, mom, I love you."
"Hey mom, so am I a loser and a druggie? " No son, you're not a loser or a druggie."
(C) Teresa Ortiz
Feb 7, 2008
My Son's 250 KTM: The Rest of the Story
It was raining and 28 degrees outside when we left home for the motocross raceway.
"Man, this is going to be a messy race." My husband says, as we pull into the parking lot.
"Mom, do me a favor; go buy some cooking spray."
"Cooking spray?"
"It's to keep the mud from sticking to my bike"
"Oh, O.K."...
Everything is set up; the racers are primed and ready! The adrenaline is pumping through my son's veins; I can almost see it as he struggles to remain calm.
"Riders take your mark!"
It is dead silent as the racers line up, the tension is so thick, and you can cut it with a knife.
"Riders get set!"
I'm standing there shivering from the cold, unconsciously scratching my arms, thinking, let them go already!
It is time. The flag goes down! As they take off, the roar of all the engines pulse through my body.
It amazes me how 25 riders start in a single line and then in a matter of seconds, they each have to fight to squeeze into a track that is five feet wide. (It must be a guy thing.)
Forty seconds into the race and three riders are stuck in the first mud pit; "J" just misses the back tire of the rider who went down right in front of him. (My heart begins to beat a little faster and the temperature seems to go from 28 to 80 in a matter of seconds.)
"Go J," we yell, as he zooms by us, wait; is that J? Apparently, all of the boys decided to give themselves and their bikes a mud bath. They were indistinguishable some bikes even had branches sticking out of the motors.
What is going on in those wooded areas? So much for the cooking spray-oh well, it's not a complete waste, I can use it at home. I suppose it was a good idea...
An hour later, many of the racers had to drop out because their bikes were over-heating, and some just plain quit. We decided to run to the far end of the track to see if we could catch a glimpse of him coming out of the woods-which we did...
"Oh, no", my heart sank as I saw him stuck at least two-feet in the mud. I could see by his hunched posture that he was tired and angry. I watched helplessly as he tried to no-avail to lift his bike high enough to get under it and climb back on. He did this for at least ten minutes. I was impressed that he wasn't giving up.
However, it was clear that he was running out of energy. Suddenly, as if he were an angel, another rider came to his rescue and together, lifted his bike out of the mud. In an instant, I saw him stand straight up and jump on his bike! He gave a wave of thanks, spit mud in the air with his tire and he was off!
An hour and a half and 21-miles later, he pulls into the pit. He had finished his race! Between the cold, the rain and a track turned quick-sand, this endurance race lived up to its name. Once again, we are proud that our son chose to fight and not to give up. He climbed off his bike, sat (more like fell) on the ground with a smile that made us laugh.
The only thing you could make out on his mud-laden body was his pearly white teeth!
Of the many lessons one might glean from this story, one remains most valuable to me; as I scratched my arm while preparing dinner, it occurred to me that it might have been the rash after all.
"Man, this is going to be a messy race." My husband says, as we pull into the parking lot.
"Mom, do me a favor; go buy some cooking spray."
"Cooking spray?"
"It's to keep the mud from sticking to my bike"
"Oh, O.K."...
Everything is set up; the racers are primed and ready! The adrenaline is pumping through my son's veins; I can almost see it as he struggles to remain calm.
"Riders take your mark!"
It is dead silent as the racers line up, the tension is so thick, and you can cut it with a knife.
"Riders get set!"
I'm standing there shivering from the cold, unconsciously scratching my arms, thinking, let them go already!
It is time. The flag goes down! As they take off, the roar of all the engines pulse through my body.
It amazes me how 25 riders start in a single line and then in a matter of seconds, they each have to fight to squeeze into a track that is five feet wide. (It must be a guy thing.)
Forty seconds into the race and three riders are stuck in the first mud pit; "J" just misses the back tire of the rider who went down right in front of him. (My heart begins to beat a little faster and the temperature seems to go from 28 to 80 in a matter of seconds.)
"Go J," we yell, as he zooms by us, wait; is that J? Apparently, all of the boys decided to give themselves and their bikes a mud bath. They were indistinguishable some bikes even had branches sticking out of the motors.
What is going on in those wooded areas? So much for the cooking spray-oh well, it's not a complete waste, I can use it at home. I suppose it was a good idea...
An hour later, many of the racers had to drop out because their bikes were over-heating, and some just plain quit. We decided to run to the far end of the track to see if we could catch a glimpse of him coming out of the woods-which we did...
"Oh, no", my heart sank as I saw him stuck at least two-feet in the mud. I could see by his hunched posture that he was tired and angry. I watched helplessly as he tried to no-avail to lift his bike high enough to get under it and climb back on. He did this for at least ten minutes. I was impressed that he wasn't giving up.
However, it was clear that he was running out of energy. Suddenly, as if he were an angel, another rider came to his rescue and together, lifted his bike out of the mud. In an instant, I saw him stand straight up and jump on his bike! He gave a wave of thanks, spit mud in the air with his tire and he was off!
An hour and a half and 21-miles later, he pulls into the pit. He had finished his race! Between the cold, the rain and a track turned quick-sand, this endurance race lived up to its name. Once again, we are proud that our son chose to fight and not to give up. He climbed off his bike, sat (more like fell) on the ground with a smile that made us laugh.
The only thing you could make out on his mud-laden body was his pearly white teeth!
Of the many lessons one might glean from this story, one remains most valuable to me; as I scratched my arm while preparing dinner, it occurred to me that it might have been the rash after all.
Jan 24, 2008
My Son's 250 KTM: Is this why I am Awake?
It's 3:45 a.m. and I can't sleep.
(Itch - itch, scratch - scratch.)
I can't help but think about my son's endurance race set to begin at 10:00 a.m. this morning.
(An endurance race is one that is won by consistency. The riders have an hour and a half to complete as many laps as possible. It is a three-mile course through wooded areas, flat land, whoop-d-doops, and small rock climbing.)
I watched him prepare last night; he checked his gear, packed his water, and he went to the garage to double check his dirt bike. I noticed how he stood a little taller as he talked about the race. "I'm so jazzed! I can't wait!" The smile across his face made me smile.
"'J', I'm so proud of you! You are going to do great!" "Mom, will you rub out my shoulder and my back?" "Sure, no problem."
I had to keep my mouth shut as I thought about a few practices back when he took a crash landing coming off of his 12-foot jump! Hence, the need for the shoulder massage before every race.
(Itch - itch, scratch - scratch.)
I arrived late for practice that day, Justin was already on the track. I'll never forget the look on my husband's face as I walked up to him. "Don't freak out, but 'J' took a bad tumble."
(Note to fathers: You do not say this to a mother when her child is nowhere in sight!)
"WHERE IS HE!" "Relax, he's riding," "What? Where?" "Out there!" he says, pointing to the track.. You can imagine how the rest of the conversation went.
Tick -Tock... After 15 long minutes he comes riding in. My heart skips a beat as I wait for him to remove his helmet... and then he does. He has a black eye and a big cut along the side of his nose and a big smile on his face!
"Mom, you should have seen me, I was 12 feet in the air! "And then I landed wrong and tumbled down the side of the hill, it was awesome!" I am staring at him in shock as he continues to point out the other issues: ripped pants exposing the scrapes and blood on his leg, and his ripped shirt exposing his chopped up flesh mixed with mud. "I am going to have the coolest scars." (Again, he smiles -- as if he had just won a race.)
"What were you doing riding after you got hurt?" "Mom, chill, I had to get back on my bike right away and ride or else I would have been afraid to do it later, and don't even think about telling me I can't ride anymore. If I want to get better I'm gonna have to take some tumbles."
By this time I'm staring at my husband with a look that says, "If I could ride this thing, I'd run you over right now, how dare you let my son go back out on the track!"
(Itch - itch, scratch - scratch.)
I sigh as I'm brought back to the evening at hand. As I think about my son's response to his tumble, I gleam with pride in the fact that he chose to focus on his accomplishment rather than his crash landing. It amazes me how my 17-year son has learned so much about life (he just doesn't know it yet).
After rubbing out his shoulder, he eats three bananas, and does 60 push-ups. "Well parents, I'm off to bed, I have to be prepared for my race."
(Itch - itch, scratch - scratch.)
It's now 4:10 a.m. I know I am rambling. Maybe you can see a lesson in this story, and maybe not. All I know, is I had to do something to relax my mind as I think about the race.
(Itch - itch, scratch - scratch.) Although, there could be one other reason why I cannot sleep; no, it couldn't be this rash on my arms?
(Itch - itch, scratch - scratch.)
(C) Teresa Ortiz
(Itch - itch, scratch - scratch.)
I can't help but think about my son's endurance race set to begin at 10:00 a.m. this morning.
(An endurance race is one that is won by consistency. The riders have an hour and a half to complete as many laps as possible. It is a three-mile course through wooded areas, flat land, whoop-d-doops, and small rock climbing.)
I watched him prepare last night; he checked his gear, packed his water, and he went to the garage to double check his dirt bike. I noticed how he stood a little taller as he talked about the race. "I'm so jazzed! I can't wait!" The smile across his face made me smile.
"'J', I'm so proud of you! You are going to do great!" "Mom, will you rub out my shoulder and my back?" "Sure, no problem."
I had to keep my mouth shut as I thought about a few practices back when he took a crash landing coming off of his 12-foot jump! Hence, the need for the shoulder massage before every race.
(Itch - itch, scratch - scratch.)
I arrived late for practice that day, Justin was already on the track. I'll never forget the look on my husband's face as I walked up to him. "Don't freak out, but 'J' took a bad tumble."
(Note to fathers: You do not say this to a mother when her child is nowhere in sight!)
"WHERE IS HE!" "Relax, he's riding," "What? Where?" "Out there!" he says, pointing to the track.. You can imagine how the rest of the conversation went.
Tick -Tock... After 15 long minutes he comes riding in. My heart skips a beat as I wait for him to remove his helmet... and then he does. He has a black eye and a big cut along the side of his nose and a big smile on his face!
"Mom, you should have seen me, I was 12 feet in the air! "And then I landed wrong and tumbled down the side of the hill, it was awesome!" I am staring at him in shock as he continues to point out the other issues: ripped pants exposing the scrapes and blood on his leg, and his ripped shirt exposing his chopped up flesh mixed with mud. "I am going to have the coolest scars." (Again, he smiles -- as if he had just won a race.)
"What were you doing riding after you got hurt?" "Mom, chill, I had to get back on my bike right away and ride or else I would have been afraid to do it later, and don't even think about telling me I can't ride anymore. If I want to get better I'm gonna have to take some tumbles."
By this time I'm staring at my husband with a look that says, "If I could ride this thing, I'd run you over right now, how dare you let my son go back out on the track!"
(Itch - itch, scratch - scratch.)
I sigh as I'm brought back to the evening at hand. As I think about my son's response to his tumble, I gleam with pride in the fact that he chose to focus on his accomplishment rather than his crash landing. It amazes me how my 17-year son has learned so much about life (he just doesn't know it yet).
After rubbing out his shoulder, he eats three bananas, and does 60 push-ups. "Well parents, I'm off to bed, I have to be prepared for my race."
(Itch - itch, scratch - scratch.)
It's now 4:10 a.m. I know I am rambling. Maybe you can see a lesson in this story, and maybe not. All I know, is I had to do something to relax my mind as I think about the race.
(Itch - itch, scratch - scratch.) Although, there could be one other reason why I cannot sleep; no, it couldn't be this rash on my arms?
(Itch - itch, scratch - scratch.)
(C) Teresa Ortiz
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
