So, today, I received the news that I've been expecting for a week. I've had a week of preparation leading up to that moment where they asked me to step in to the office. The whole time, I knew what they were going to say... I knew the news that they were to deliver. All I could do was sit and nod and listen to what they had to say. No... wait... that's not all I could do. I also reflected on the readings from this past Sunday.
So, while they were giving their little speech. While they were giving me all the excuses. All the explanations. The only voice I focused in on was the voice of Fr. Alberto from Sunday and the voice of God whispering in my ear. What did he have to say? 'Do not worry, my daughter. Do not worry about what you shall eat, what you shall drink, what you shall wear. Look at the beauty I've set before. Look at the birds, they don't toil. Yet, your Father cares for them. What more you, whom he carved in His hand?' So, while I was destroyed by hearing this same news from other people last week, this week, I was filled with joy. I was filled with the excitement of the unknown.
On the ride home, there was an outpouring of love. I received words of encouragement from people who I didn't expect it from. I heard the love of my father through them. Of course I'm confused as to where to go from here. What to do now. I don't know if I should concentrate on the pilgrimage and on other things that are coming to a close in a few months or if I should run right out and find a new job. I'm not sure if I should jump at this opportunity to go back to school and not jump right back in to the work scene. There's no plan that's clear as day in front of my eyes.
I pray, Lord, for the spirit of discernment. I thank you for allowing me the opportunity to work so close to your church. For helping to keep me out of the clutches of the world. Please keep your hands upon me and allow me to see what you want of my in the coming weeks because without you, I am not... Without you, I am lost. What now?
28.2.11
2.2.11
Pride? WHAT Pride?
So, I'm probably going to be reamed for this. But, at the chance of being on people's bad sides for a while, I will voice my opinion about something that always bothers me. So, I beg of you, bear with me for a couple of minutes!
The other day, I was browsing through some pictures of a cousin of mine who was born and raised in the states. Said cousin has never spent more than two weeks on this glorious island. Not because he hasn't had the means to spend more than two weeks here but their family just chose not to and that was OK with everyone. I don't care, really... It's their choice not to know their home. I don't quite understand it. But, it's their prerogative. Who am I to say otherwise?
My problem? Well, it's not really my problem. But, it's a pet peeve that I've developed over the years of living here and following my cousins through facebook and other social networks. You see, it seems that every time I see pictures of my cousins, they're tattoo'd up with yet another 'island pride' tattoo. They speak of how proud they are of being from the island. They are proud to say they know how to cook Chamorro food.
Still don't see a problem? Let me expand on this. Bear with me.
First off, 'island pride' is something that an islander possesses. To be an islander, you have to be from an island. If you are living stateside and have done so your whole life, here's a news flash. You are not an islander. You are a statesider. You can't claim to be proud to be from an island is you really aren't from an island. Understand? So, please, I beg you, step down! You give other statesiders a really bad image of what a real Guamanian/Chamorro is like!
Second, if you claim to be in an 'Island Trybe', at least learn how to spell it correctly. It's 'Island TRIBE'. And, let's talk about tribes. We haven't had tribes on this island in hundreds of years! The closest thing we have to a 'tribe' these days is a 'family'. Remember those? Those are the people you can count on... the people you share blood with... the people with whom you share life!
Now, we move on to food. Here is something over which I share a hearty laugh with friends. Let me list a few things that statesiders - claiming to be Chamorro - misinterpret as Chamorro food. They are: lumpia, pancit, adobo, arozcaldo, and eskabechi. (I may have missed a few!) These, my dear dear friends... are not Chamorro foods! Lumpia, depending on which kind you make are either Viet-Thai or Filipino. Pancit is Filipino. Adobo - Filipino... Arozcaldo, again, Filipino. Eskabechi is a Spanish dish. So, if you're going for Chamorro food, stick with kelaguen, red rice, bbq chicken, mutsiyas, fitada, kadun manuk, kadun u'hang yan lechen niyok... I can go on. But, it's making me hungry!
My dear friends and cousins, I mean you no disrespect. But, please respect the fact that you are not from here. If you want to know what it's like to be Chamorro... to be Guamanian, come to Guam. Experience the island as home rather than a place you visit every ten to fifteen years for vacation. Then, and only then, will I respect the 'pride' that you have. Until then, I can not help but scoff and chuckle about your shenanigans.
The other day, I was browsing through some pictures of a cousin of mine who was born and raised in the states. Said cousin has never spent more than two weeks on this glorious island. Not because he hasn't had the means to spend more than two weeks here but their family just chose not to and that was OK with everyone. I don't care, really... It's their choice not to know their home. I don't quite understand it. But, it's their prerogative. Who am I to say otherwise?
My problem? Well, it's not really my problem. But, it's a pet peeve that I've developed over the years of living here and following my cousins through facebook and other social networks. You see, it seems that every time I see pictures of my cousins, they're tattoo'd up with yet another 'island pride' tattoo. They speak of how proud they are of being from the island. They are proud to say they know how to cook Chamorro food.
Still don't see a problem? Let me expand on this. Bear with me.
First off, 'island pride' is something that an islander possesses. To be an islander, you have to be from an island. If you are living stateside and have done so your whole life, here's a news flash. You are not an islander. You are a statesider. You can't claim to be proud to be from an island is you really aren't from an island. Understand? So, please, I beg you, step down! You give other statesiders a really bad image of what a real Guamanian/Chamorro is like!
Second, if you claim to be in an 'Island Trybe', at least learn how to spell it correctly. It's 'Island TRIBE'. And, let's talk about tribes. We haven't had tribes on this island in hundreds of years! The closest thing we have to a 'tribe' these days is a 'family'. Remember those? Those are the people you can count on... the people you share blood with... the people with whom you share life!
Now, we move on to food. Here is something over which I share a hearty laugh with friends. Let me list a few things that statesiders - claiming to be Chamorro - misinterpret as Chamorro food. They are: lumpia, pancit, adobo, arozcaldo, and eskabechi. (I may have missed a few!) These, my dear dear friends... are not Chamorro foods! Lumpia, depending on which kind you make are either Viet-Thai or Filipino. Pancit is Filipino. Adobo - Filipino... Arozcaldo, again, Filipino. Eskabechi is a Spanish dish. So, if you're going for Chamorro food, stick with kelaguen, red rice, bbq chicken, mutsiyas, fitada, kadun manuk, kadun u'hang yan lechen niyok... I can go on. But, it's making me hungry!
My dear friends and cousins, I mean you no disrespect. But, please respect the fact that you are not from here. If you want to know what it's like to be Chamorro... to be Guamanian, come to Guam. Experience the island as home rather than a place you visit every ten to fifteen years for vacation. Then, and only then, will I respect the 'pride' that you have. Until then, I can not help but scoff and chuckle about your shenanigans.
28.12.10
To You...
This is what I'm thinking right now.
Stop being so damned cryptic. Stop sending mixed signals. Come to think of it... Stop sending any signals. You either care or you don't. There's no middle ground on that one.
From...
Me...
Stop being so damned cryptic. Stop sending mixed signals. Come to think of it... Stop sending any signals. You either care or you don't. There's no middle ground on that one.
From...
Me...
17.11.10
Her Life...
On Tuesday, November 16, 2011, my grandmother, Oliva L.G. Taijeron, was called to her eternal rest. At 9:30pm, she took her last breath and left this life for a new, more beautiful life. She is now praying for us, her family, as we go on living our lives here. She will be interceding for us as we continue on our journey knowing that we are on a pilgrimage to an Eternal home with all our ancestors and most importantly, our Creator.
My grandmother lived a beautiful life. She was always so strong and independent. I will always remember how we couldn't ever track her down by calling her on the phone because she was always outside in the garden messing with one thing or another. She did that for as long as she could.
A few months ago, I wrote about my grandmother. I don't even remember why I did it but I am so happy that I did. She was a fighter. Very stubborn, like my mother... like me. She made for many sacrifices in her life but never complained about having to do so.
I will always remember the days when she would bake bread and we would sit with her for hours. Mixing, kneading, rolling, basting. Those are the days that I will miss. The days when we would sit around and just listen to her talk about anything at all. I remember typhoons at her house. We would sit around the dinner table and make typhoon donuts. Again, kneading, rolling, pressing, cutting. Every time I think of her, I pray that I will remember these things until the day I join her in eternal happiness.
My grandmother, a creature of habit. Every morning, she would wake up and she would have a bathroom routine. It was something that we never really appreciated in our youth. But, today, I look back at it and see how cute it was. After that, she would have her breakfast. It was always two items. Cream of Wheat and toast. Oatmeal and toast. Toast and an apple. There was always the smell of toast in the morning. Her coffee, one teaspoon of instant Sanka, one teaspoon of sugar, one teaspoon of cream. It never changed.
The last memory I have before she had her accident was at my uncle's funeral. I made her a cup of coffee. One sugar, one cream. She sipped it with a spoon and I thought it was the cutest thing I had ever seen. Then, when she had had enough, not mindful of what she was doing, she dipped her fingers in her cup to wash them. She had forgotten that it was coffee and not water. I remember being saddened by that. But, now, I look back and smile.
I have regrets about her last few years with us. I regret that I didn't see her as much as I could have. When I last saw her before the accident, she had a look of confusion on her face, as if she wasn't quite sure who I was. But, I know that she was losing bits of her memory and it was quite possible that she didn't remember me. What mattered yesterday was that I knew who she was and that I loved her. With every breath that I saw her take, I remembered one more thing.
I was in the room when she took her last breath. I saw her stretch and she opened her eyes a tiny bit. I knew, at that moment, that she was gone. I had come to terms with the fact that these were the last moments we were ever going to spend with grandma. The feelings were overwhelming. I was sad and happy at the same time. Wait, no! Happy is not the right term. I was elated! She's now with my grandfather, the man that she loved until her dying breath. They are our angels who are praying for us. I'll tell you this, my grandparents are definitely strong! They made it through their final battle and are now able to rest in eternal happiness with half of the children there with them! I know that one day, I will see them again and they will be more beautiful that I could ever imagine.
So, you go grandma. You join grandpa and, please, pray for us. When our last scrutiny comes, join us in the fight. Remind us that God loves us and always will. Remind us to ignore the lies. Until we see you again, rest. Be happy with the saints and the angels. Know that we loved you. Grandma, you were beautiful all the way to the end. Do not fret, your hair was perfect! I am happy to have witnessed your last breath and to have been your grand daughter. I will always love you and I will always remember everything you taught me.
Eternal rest grant unto her, o Lord... May she rest in Peace.
My grandmother lived a beautiful life. She was always so strong and independent. I will always remember how we couldn't ever track her down by calling her on the phone because she was always outside in the garden messing with one thing or another. She did that for as long as she could.
A few months ago, I wrote about my grandmother. I don't even remember why I did it but I am so happy that I did. She was a fighter. Very stubborn, like my mother... like me. She made for many sacrifices in her life but never complained about having to do so.
I will always remember the days when she would bake bread and we would sit with her for hours. Mixing, kneading, rolling, basting. Those are the days that I will miss. The days when we would sit around and just listen to her talk about anything at all. I remember typhoons at her house. We would sit around the dinner table and make typhoon donuts. Again, kneading, rolling, pressing, cutting. Every time I think of her, I pray that I will remember these things until the day I join her in eternal happiness.
My grandmother, a creature of habit. Every morning, she would wake up and she would have a bathroom routine. It was something that we never really appreciated in our youth. But, today, I look back at it and see how cute it was. After that, she would have her breakfast. It was always two items. Cream of Wheat and toast. Oatmeal and toast. Toast and an apple. There was always the smell of toast in the morning. Her coffee, one teaspoon of instant Sanka, one teaspoon of sugar, one teaspoon of cream. It never changed.
The last memory I have before she had her accident was at my uncle's funeral. I made her a cup of coffee. One sugar, one cream. She sipped it with a spoon and I thought it was the cutest thing I had ever seen. Then, when she had had enough, not mindful of what she was doing, she dipped her fingers in her cup to wash them. She had forgotten that it was coffee and not water. I remember being saddened by that. But, now, I look back and smile.
I have regrets about her last few years with us. I regret that I didn't see her as much as I could have. When I last saw her before the accident, she had a look of confusion on her face, as if she wasn't quite sure who I was. But, I know that she was losing bits of her memory and it was quite possible that she didn't remember me. What mattered yesterday was that I knew who she was and that I loved her. With every breath that I saw her take, I remembered one more thing.
I was in the room when she took her last breath. I saw her stretch and she opened her eyes a tiny bit. I knew, at that moment, that she was gone. I had come to terms with the fact that these were the last moments we were ever going to spend with grandma. The feelings were overwhelming. I was sad and happy at the same time. Wait, no! Happy is not the right term. I was elated! She's now with my grandfather, the man that she loved until her dying breath. They are our angels who are praying for us. I'll tell you this, my grandparents are definitely strong! They made it through their final battle and are now able to rest in eternal happiness with half of the children there with them! I know that one day, I will see them again and they will be more beautiful that I could ever imagine.
So, you go grandma. You join grandpa and, please, pray for us. When our last scrutiny comes, join us in the fight. Remind us that God loves us and always will. Remind us to ignore the lies. Until we see you again, rest. Be happy with the saints and the angels. Know that we loved you. Grandma, you were beautiful all the way to the end. Do not fret, your hair was perfect! I am happy to have witnessed your last breath and to have been your grand daughter. I will always love you and I will always remember everything you taught me.
Eternal rest grant unto her, o Lord... May she rest in Peace.
3.11.10
I'm Finding...
That it is so hard to trust in the Will of God at the moment. There has been so much happening in my life lately that it seems that the 'problems' are piling up. Just when I think one problem is at it's end, it comes back with vengeance and bites me in the ass. Then, as if that's not bad enough, a new problem arises. But, there's one thing that is a constant... Life always keeps me on my toes.
Since I last posted about wanting it all to stop, it has stopped. You know what? I'm not happy about it. I thought, if this situation no longer existed. If this man just stopped the foolishness... if I didn't hear from him ever, I'd be OK. I'd be happy. I'd be able to put it behind me and move on. But, along with all of this comes the task of having to avoid him... having to sever the friendship. Now, I find myself missing the very thing that I can't have. It's difficult to accept that he can't be there anymore. Definitely not in the capacity that he was. But, it is a reality that I must face. A cross I must carry. The cup that I wish to pass from me.
To add to everything that has been happening. Yesterday, I received news that my father has a condition in which his heart is beating twice as fast as it should. We're not sure what is wrong with him. But, the doctor says that if it is not fixed, my father is in danger of having a stroke. This news was enough to get me to start doubting everything all over again. And, of course, the first person that I wanted to turn to, I couldn't. So, I turned to my girls and my community. Before I went to my community, I didn't realize how much it had bothered me. But, when I started sharing about it, I felt so destroyed. I felt sad and angry.
Why is this God that loves me doing these things? Why the constant struggle? Why the constant reality of death and sickness? Is it not enough that I am trying to give up my old life for him? Is it not enough that I am trying to let go of this man who he has obvious called?
But, I am taught that the pain, suffering, sickness, all of it, is in order to bring me closer to him. It's hard though. The other side starts to play games on me. He whispers in my ear, 'Your God doesn't love you! If he did, he wouldn't cause these things to happen.' It is so easy for me to just turn my back. To walk away. To live my life angry at the God who created me. It is easy for me to believe the lies of the world. It's easy to say no more, I can live the way I want.
It is easy for me to ask him to take this cup from me. Not so easy to tell him 'not my will but yours be done'. I wish I knew how to embrace the suffering. I wish I could understand what it is I need to do. I wish that I could look at him as a loving father who will do nothing to harm me. To believe that, just as he raised his son from the depths of hell, so will he raise me from my suffering. I suppose that's why I am where I am... To begin to understand his love and the grace of suffering. To walk in his footsteps. To carry my cross as he carried his. He too begged his father to have mercy on him. But, he accepted his father's will and in return was glorified.
Since I last posted about wanting it all to stop, it has stopped. You know what? I'm not happy about it. I thought, if this situation no longer existed. If this man just stopped the foolishness... if I didn't hear from him ever, I'd be OK. I'd be happy. I'd be able to put it behind me and move on. But, along with all of this comes the task of having to avoid him... having to sever the friendship. Now, I find myself missing the very thing that I can't have. It's difficult to accept that he can't be there anymore. Definitely not in the capacity that he was. But, it is a reality that I must face. A cross I must carry. The cup that I wish to pass from me.
To add to everything that has been happening. Yesterday, I received news that my father has a condition in which his heart is beating twice as fast as it should. We're not sure what is wrong with him. But, the doctor says that if it is not fixed, my father is in danger of having a stroke. This news was enough to get me to start doubting everything all over again. And, of course, the first person that I wanted to turn to, I couldn't. So, I turned to my girls and my community. Before I went to my community, I didn't realize how much it had bothered me. But, when I started sharing about it, I felt so destroyed. I felt sad and angry.
Why is this God that loves me doing these things? Why the constant struggle? Why the constant reality of death and sickness? Is it not enough that I am trying to give up my old life for him? Is it not enough that I am trying to let go of this man who he has obvious called?
But, I am taught that the pain, suffering, sickness, all of it, is in order to bring me closer to him. It's hard though. The other side starts to play games on me. He whispers in my ear, 'Your God doesn't love you! If he did, he wouldn't cause these things to happen.' It is so easy for me to just turn my back. To walk away. To live my life angry at the God who created me. It is easy for me to believe the lies of the world. It's easy to say no more, I can live the way I want.
It is easy for me to ask him to take this cup from me. Not so easy to tell him 'not my will but yours be done'. I wish I knew how to embrace the suffering. I wish I could understand what it is I need to do. I wish that I could look at him as a loving father who will do nothing to harm me. To believe that, just as he raised his son from the depths of hell, so will he raise me from my suffering. I suppose that's why I am where I am... To begin to understand his love and the grace of suffering. To walk in his footsteps. To carry my cross as he carried his. He too begged his father to have mercy on him. But, he accepted his father's will and in return was glorified.
30.9.10
HIS
Today, I was asked if I knew what it was to be His. To be HIS child. I was confused as heck. So, the same person asked me, are you HIS child? So, I looked quizzically at my friend and said the only thing I could think of. I said, "I wish I could say that I believed I was a child of God."
He said, "It's simple. To be HIS, you just have to be H.I.S. To live in Humility, Innocence, and Simplicity."
I'm screwed.
He said, "It's simple. To be HIS, you just have to be H.I.S. To live in Humility, Innocence, and Simplicity."
I'm screwed.
Leadership With Compassion?
Dear Mr. Gutierrez and Mr. Aguon,
If I wanted "leadership with compassion", I would elect Mother Teresa to be our governor with Mr. Rogers as her lieutenant. I'm just saying...
Let's imagine for a minute that I did vote based on the compassion of a man. Mr. Gutierrez, you are a former governor of the island that I love and which I call home. During your terms, the quality of education diminished. The quality of life, in general, diminished. Our island deteriorated, our deficit turned a bright shade of red, and the infrastructure of the government left much to be desired. Where was your compassion when I, as an up and coming citizen of this island you claim to love, was struggling to make ends meet? Where was your compassion when our families were losing jobs and starting to suffer on an island where suffering was rarely heard of?
Oh, I remember where it was. Your compassion was in helping your voters and only your voters. Your compassion was in paving their private driveways to ensure you were re-elected. Your compassion was in making sure your kababayans had a piece of property on an island where the Chamorros should have been taken care of before anyone else. Your compassion was in appropriating funds that would benefit your friends and family. Your so called compassion was in clearing your child's record when he was caught for drug possession and distribution even when you knew that he was in the wrong.
Never mind the people of Guam who represented a smaller percentage of your constituents. Your compassion mister former governor was in your own interest. Would you see that as compassion? If you do, then, I guess I must have a misunderstanding of the definition of "compassion".
But, you see, Mr. Former Governor and Mr. Senator, I am not looking for a governor who is only in it for the title. I am not looking for leaders who will only help their people. What I am looking for is a governor who will lead our island and its people with a firm hand. Someone who will set this island straight. Someone who is willing to step up and correct the mistakes of the past.
Do not jade yourself in to thinking that the people who matter do not know the misuse of power that went on during your term. Do not fool yourself in to thinking that the people of Guam are ignorant and stupid. You, mister former governor and mister senator, need to stop laying the blame on natural disasters, the current administration, and the legislature. You both need to own up for the lack of responsibility you both had during your terms. I, personally, do not want a leadership team who is going to point their finger at someone else to take the blame for their mistakes. If I did want that, I'd elect my 2 year old nephew to play the role, thank you.
The bottom line is, you do not have what it takes to lead this beautiful island that we, the people of Guam, call home. You can't expect that we believe we will be in better hands with your team. The next governor of this island has a lot of cleaning up to do. Do you really think that you can do that in the one term that you are able to serve? I think not.
If I wanted "leadership with compassion", I would elect Mother Teresa to be our governor with Mr. Rogers as her lieutenant. I'm just saying...
Let's imagine for a minute that I did vote based on the compassion of a man. Mr. Gutierrez, you are a former governor of the island that I love and which I call home. During your terms, the quality of education diminished. The quality of life, in general, diminished. Our island deteriorated, our deficit turned a bright shade of red, and the infrastructure of the government left much to be desired. Where was your compassion when I, as an up and coming citizen of this island you claim to love, was struggling to make ends meet? Where was your compassion when our families were losing jobs and starting to suffer on an island where suffering was rarely heard of?
Oh, I remember where it was. Your compassion was in helping your voters and only your voters. Your compassion was in paving their private driveways to ensure you were re-elected. Your compassion was in making sure your kababayans had a piece of property on an island where the Chamorros should have been taken care of before anyone else. Your compassion was in appropriating funds that would benefit your friends and family. Your so called compassion was in clearing your child's record when he was caught for drug possession and distribution even when you knew that he was in the wrong.
Never mind the people of Guam who represented a smaller percentage of your constituents. Your compassion mister former governor was in your own interest. Would you see that as compassion? If you do, then, I guess I must have a misunderstanding of the definition of "compassion".
But, you see, Mr. Former Governor and Mr. Senator, I am not looking for a governor who is only in it for the title. I am not looking for leaders who will only help their people. What I am looking for is a governor who will lead our island and its people with a firm hand. Someone who will set this island straight. Someone who is willing to step up and correct the mistakes of the past.
Do not jade yourself in to thinking that the people who matter do not know the misuse of power that went on during your term. Do not fool yourself in to thinking that the people of Guam are ignorant and stupid. You, mister former governor and mister senator, need to stop laying the blame on natural disasters, the current administration, and the legislature. You both need to own up for the lack of responsibility you both had during your terms. I, personally, do not want a leadership team who is going to point their finger at someone else to take the blame for their mistakes. If I did want that, I'd elect my 2 year old nephew to play the role, thank you.
The bottom line is, you do not have what it takes to lead this beautiful island that we, the people of Guam, call home. You can't expect that we believe we will be in better hands with your team. The next governor of this island has a lot of cleaning up to do. Do you really think that you can do that in the one term that you are able to serve? I think not.
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