Such a Gringo

His dad has a video of Chito running across his backyard, trying to jump the fence into his pool.  He slips several times and on the last attempt slips so bad that he slams into the fence.  I also see him climbing a rope, hands only, getting to the top and slipping.  He didn’t fall, just scared us all to death.

And here I am crying.

I think he would tell me I’m being a gringo.

He would then tell me he found the perfect woman to marry because she cooks just like his mom, only now he can’t marry…

…’cuz he’s in heaven…

I think he would describe his accident with less fear than I presume.  I think he’d say something like, “man I was flying and then bam, I was in heaven.  It was sick.”

He would laugh at our tears, but only a little.  He’d tell us all to wear crazy shirts at his funeral.  Do something stupid like have jumping contests over chairs or off the stage.  And then he’d tell us to worship.  Worship with all our hearts.

He loved to worship.

I need to quit being such a gringo.  Because I think he’s right.

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Busy, Busy, Busy

Once again, life has gotten crazy, money is tight, my little world is turned on its ear.  I haven’t been able to write.  Haven’t been able to think.  Haven’t been able to breathe.

All this feels so wrong.  I keep thinking of the song by the Indigo Girls (they were popular for a short time in the late 80’s, early 90’s).

“My place is of the sun and this place is of the dark.  I do not feel the romance.  I do not catch the spark.  And I will not be a pawn for the prince of darkness any longer.”

Yeah, the emotional rollercoaster artsy people ride every day.

That’s the trouble with being busy.  We get caught in the whirlwind of activity and everything spins out of control.  We snatch and grab, trying to find some purchase, some toehold where we can gain some sense of control, some sense that life will not always be so difficult.

And being busy can medicate us too.  It can numb the pain of damaged relationships, latent wounds that lie festering in our hearts.  But it’s like taking tylenol for an aneurism.  We realize that we can’t pull it down, it won’t come under our control.  It isn’t, our life IS NOT ours to own, to rule.

So on my knees, I come to You, Lord.  I’m Yours.  You rule.  I rest. 

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