Desperately Seeking...

Here's a plea to all you genealogy people out there! I know there's a lot of you. Don't try to hide it *wink*. I've been on a task which has been proving to be difficult! So, your expertise would be greatly appreciated. Would anyone out there know a sure fire way of tracking down a lost relative? All I've got to go on is a name and a general time period that he served here on Guam.

I'm telling you, if you give me anything else to search for, I can find it. Easy as pie! But, this time around, it's not so. Maybe it's because I'm trying harder than I usually do. Heck! Maybe I'm not trying hard enough. But, until I've exhausted all the resources out there, I suppose I will have to keep searching!

If, in the end, we are not successful in finding him, then we will have to see it as fate... The Will of God. There would have to be a reason as to why we're not able to accomplish this, correct? But, until the end of this journey, I shall remain optimistic. I will keep my head held high. I will trust in the Lord.

Please pray for us. Thank you!

Thank You...

In my life, there are so many things for which I am thankful. Yet, there are days when I question. When I can't bring myself to be thankful. Days where I feel like I'm alone in the world. On those days, God chooses to throw these gifts in my face. As if to say, 'My Daughter, how can you forget?'.


While I was in Japan, I was blessed to have attended mass in the Cathedral in Sapporo. In the homily given that day, we were given a task. We were told to call our parents, to thank them for the gift of baptism. As a baby, we did not make the choice to become Catholic. We did not answer to the questions that the priest asked. Growing up, we all feel like church is somewhat of a chore. It was something our parents made us do. If we didn't go to church, we wouldn't be allowed to play or to watch TV for the day. Unless we were sick. We never viewed it as the gift that it was... it is! The priest told us, 'Your parents may think you are drunk. But, just do it.'.


That night, after more than our fair share of alcohol, we were sitting at our last restaurant of the evening. We were talking about the events of the day. We'd started with breakfast then mass, shopping and lunch, more shopping and wandering the streets of a town two of us had never visited before. We decided, 'Hey! Let's call home and thank our parents for the gift of baptism!'. So, in a drunken stupor, we each made the phone calls. When it came to my turn, I mustered up the most sober voice I could manage and I thanked my mother for having me baptized in the catholic faith. She probably thought that I had gone completely mad. At the time,  I thought I was completely mad!


Looking back at it, it was the most sane thing I could have done. You see, it is my faith that keeps me going. It is my faith that pulls me out of pits so deep and stuffy that I feel like I might drown. It is my Catholic faith that gives me the courage to face each day. To thank my parents for the gift of baptism and the grace of being raised in the church was important. My Catholic upbringing is what makes me the person I am today. This gift is the most precious gift that they could have ever given me and it is the only gift I should have ever wanted.


I am not saying that I grew up in the easiest way I could have. But, it was the best way for me. Any Catholic would tell you that being in the faith is not all rainbows and butterflies! Many times, as an active Catholic, we are judged or mocked. Other people do not understand how we could believe what we do. Many people laugh that we pray to a man no one has ever seen. But, I tell you, this Man... He manifests himself in so many events, so many people. He is the most concrete man I can think of at the moment!


Often times, my faith is tested. Many times, I falter. I stumble. Many times, I fall. But, each time, someone is there to catch me. In these people, I see the love of God. I see the heart of Christ. I see the firm hand of a Father who will never let me down. A love so deep it can not be snuffed out.


So, again, to my parents, thank you for the gift of baptizing me and raising me as a Catholic. I will try to do it justice. I will always remember that it is only through the grace of God that I am.

Confusion...

It is written in scripture:


"And I tell you, ask and you will receive;
seek and you will find;
knock and the door will be opened to you. 
For everyone who asks, receives;
and the one who seeks, finds;
and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened. 
What father among you would hand his son a snake
when he asks for a fish? 
Or hand him a scorpion when he asks for an egg? 
If you then, who are wicked,
know how to give good gifts to your children,
how much more will the Father in heaven
give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him?"
(Lk 11:9-13)


I will probably be ridiculed and mocked for this post. But, I shall chance it to get some things off of my chest. You may think me a fool, if you wish. But, know this, I am not ashamed of who I am or of what I believe. That, by far, is the only thing of which I am sure.


Lately, I've been feeling confused. Confused about the situation at home. Confused about the choices I have to make when faced with choosing between family and God, friends and God. About things concerning continuing my walk with my community. About the men that are placed in my life and the situations I encounter through them. Most of all, lately, I've been tremendously confused with my vocation.


There are times when I know exactly what I want in my life. No, I take that back, I always know what I want. I want a family. I want to be a wife to a husband. I want to be a mother of a healthy brood of children. I want success and happiness. I am not jaded in believing that marriage comes without difficulties. I know that there are trials on that journey. There are trials on all paths. But, I look at my parents, I look at the mission families and I want that bond with a man that I love. I want to be able to choose to die to my husband. To die for my children. But, what I want and what He wants are not necessarily the same thing.


I feel like I've been asking and not receiving. I've been desperately grasping in the dark and coming up empty handed. I have been knocking and no one has opened the door to this stranger. You see, I've been praying, harder and harder, it seems, for a long time. I've been asking God to just make it known to me what he wants me to do with my life. I've been asking for a sign, a map to show me the path that I am to travel. I've been pounding at the door to ask Him, face to face, what he wants of me. But, I've been feeling like I'm left here, in this cistern, drowning and gasping for air.


Yesterday, I had the opportunity to attend the funeral of a Carmelite nun. I kept thinking about the monastery we visited in Australia. About how happy those nuns were. How beautiful they were. They had this glow to them that I had never seen on the face of anyone I'd ever met. The closest comparison would be to a blushing bride or a new mother holding a swaddled new born infant in her arms and knowing that this child was of her flesh and that of the man she loved. I looked at those nuns yesterday and I saw exactly the same look of those in Australia. They had this beauty in them and a light in their eyes for which I longed. I looked at them and saw that they were not what most men in today's world would deem attractive. But, to me, they were absolutely stunning. The most beautiful women on which I had ever laid eyes.


Yesterday, I heard the faint whisper of Christ in my heart. For the first time in a very long time, I thought that maybe, just maybe, this was my calling. Then, the temptations of the world came tumbling in on me. The desire of a family. The potential pain of leaving my family again. The realization that, if this is the path for me, I would have to give up the things of the world to which I have grown an attachment. 


So, maybe I have been asking and God has been giving the answers to me all along. Maybe I have been seeking and He has been laying the pearl in front of me. Maybe it is my heart on which He has been knocking and my ears have been shut to the sounds of the pounding. I just don't know...

Liberation

Yesterday, the island of Guam celebrated 66 years of what we refer to as 'Liberation'. From dawn until right before midnight, there were people celebrating on the streets or in their homes. But, not all were celebrating for the same reasons.


Liberation Day, to my grandparents' generation, was a day we celebrated freedom from the oppressors. In our case, from the Japanese during World War II. We look back at the suffering that they endured. The torture they were put through. The pain and the loss of innocence through the experiences that can only come from living through a war. We look at all of these things and we take in to consideration how they must have felt through the years.


To go through the pain of watching people you love executed right before your eyes. To hear the screams of your child and not be able to get to him and give him the comfort of his mother's arms. To be the child and to see your father shot and your mother standing by, unable to explain what had just happened. It must have been confusing for the child, heartbreaking for the adult.


There are those amongst us who identify with our elders. We hear the stories and see the joy in their eyes as they remember the Americans flying overhead. We hear the relief in their voices as they speak of the Marines marching from their landing points on the beach. We imagine the great sense of gratitude that they must have felt toward these men, these strangers from a distant land to which most of them had never ventured.


I admire my elders for enduring such as they did and for not giving up hope. I hang my head in shame for those in my generation who do not respect the gratitude of our elders. We say things like 'Reoccupation Day' and we don't appreciate the benefits we have as American citizens. We say that the US has left us for dead and we refuse to see the suffering of our neighboring islands and be thankful for what we have. We scoff at the insignificance of being an unincorporated territory, all the while, standing in line to purchase two carts full of food with federal money.


Who are we to complain?


I know that there are some disadvantages to being a possession of the United States. We are seeing some of these today. But we need to find a middle ground. A common denominator. We need to understand the importance of compromising. We need to treat this like a marriage. A good marriage takes giving on both parts rather than just the receiving.


Don't get me wrong. I am not saying that we are to roll over and be submissive to everything that the federal government is proposing. But, we need to know when to set our foot down and when to give. We need to preserve our culture and our dignity while still acknowledging that the US government is not all evil. We need to respect the love and gratitude that our elders have towards these 'strangers' while still keeping our roots intact. We need to understand that we are not slaves and they are not the enemy.

June Bug

I've learned a couple of things about myself in the past month. It's amazing what a little time to yourself does! There's been epiphanies, realizations... Laughter, tears, joy, loneliness, elation... It's just been a crazy roller coaster ride. But, this one was different from the ones that I'd experienced in the the past couple of years. This roller coaster ride made me want to buckle in and hold on tight.


While it may be a bumpy ride, I want to stick it out until the end. To feel the wind rushing through my hair. To feel my heart pounding to break free from it's cage within my chest. My hands grow slick with sweat from the fear of what comes next. I release my grip on the rail to wipe them on my jeans and grasp on again, hanging on for dear life. The next turn may hold something gruesome, maybe something beautiful. Who knows? But, I'm staying! I don't want off of this ride!


You see, when life is at it's lowest, it seems that it's the end of a long and bumpy road. But, something always happens to pull you up again. Just like on a roller coaster, the cart rushes down and slows and you think it's over but it only brings you to another steeper climb and an even bigger rush as you round another bend. There's always something bigger and better waiting for us.


Last month, I found myself spending some time with a group of friends for whom I never really made the time. In my quest to find happiness, to run from my reality, I never really thought I'd find it in them. I would always find an excuse to get away, to wallow in my self pity, to drink, have a good time and worry about it tomorrow. But, this group of friends is different. This group shows me my reality. They help me to face it and to carry my cross with joy. They never fail to teach me what it is to be a Christian. To be who I am and not to be comfortable with it but to make it better if I really feel that it needs to be better. They teach me not to be afraid of my faith. To walk in my faith and not worry about the persecution or the ridicule that I face with others.


I've seen that I take certain relationships for granted. Not only with friendships but with family. It's not something that I'm proud of but it is something that I've realized. It's something that I need to work on improving in the coming weeks. I enjoy spending time with my family. They never cease to amaze me with the stories they can dig out from our past. I love them and without each and every one of them, I wouldn't have been formed in to the adult that I am today.


I have grown close to a new friend who has a way of dragging things out of me even when I don't think I want to talk. He takes my problems and helps me to see them as journeys to make life better for myself. This man has a way of speaking spiritually yet still seeming very casual but firm. This friendship has taken me to new territory. It has helped me to view him differently. I see him as a gift from God... Someone who will be there for me both spiritually and emotionally. Someone to confide in without the fear of broken trust. I just pray that I am granted the wisdom and strength to be as vigilant as I need to be.


It has been a great month! June... the beginning of one crazy yet beautiful summer! New beginnings, new hope, new friendships, new goals. July is going to be wonderful! I mean... GEEZ!! It has to be with the World Cup finals in less than a week! VIVA ESPANA!!!

Happy Anniversary

One year ago, tonight, Law, Andy, Jamie, and I had one crazy night. Today, Andy is in Israel, Law is getting packed for San Francisco, I'm preparing for a move to a new office, and Jamie is contemplating a new direction in her career. It's been a  good year. We've been through just about everything that would test any relationship. Our friendship has been tried by fire and has only been strengthened!

I pray for a safe trip for the two best male friends that a lady can have. Here's to the three people who I know will always have my back, no matter the situation. 

What Am I Waiting For?

See, the plan was to write about something yesterday. But, I got side tracked by a conversation that I was having with a friend. Today, the subject that was on my mind yesterday has been waylaid by another subject. So, sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride that I've been trying to sit out.


For those of you that have known me for a while, you know that I've been wanting to fix some things that I've done in my past. Today, I was blessed to have a conversation with one of the deacons with whom I work. The biggest 'mistake' that I made in life took place in 1999. I've been trying to come up with a better word for this event. I don't really think it was a mistake, per se. But, it was a decision that steered me off the path that everyone though I was taking.


Eleven years ago, I made a decision to quit school and move away from home. I admit, the motive behind it was selfish. But, for nearly nine years, I lived a life that I thought would bring me happiness. A life in which I felt what I thought of at that time was love. About three years ago, I chose to leave that life and come back home.


For three years now, I have been trying to think of a way to get back in to school. I've been afraid that the choices that I'd made in my past would effect how I can go on from here. People have been placed in my life that have been encouraging me to look in to going back to school. But, for some reason, I keep fighting it. I come up with excuses left and right why I can't do it. Why I can't live the dream that I had thirteen years ago which rekindled itself in the past five years. But, today, I've had a chance to sit and think about life. My conclusion? 'What the heck am I waiting for?'


I keep saying that I wish that God would show me the map that He has planned for me. That He wouldn't be so secretive about it and just lay it out in the open. I feel like I've been hit with a 'stupid stick'. He has put several people in my life who are able and willing to help me to live my dream. Well, not only my dream but maybe even God's plan.


The deacon that I had the chance to talk to told me this... He said 'You made a mistake. What you do with that mistake can do either one of two things. You can either learn from the mistake and not repeat it or you can dwell on it and live in it. What are you going to do about it?' At that point, I needed to pee! So, what did I do? Did I stand there and pee on myself or did I got to the restroom? Darn it, I went to the restroom!