Power of Small Choices

The gift of choice, and the return gift of that choice being acknowledged.

Nearly everything in life costs something - whether an exchange of energy, time, etc., - or the selection of one thing over another in a moment; choice costs something.

We have all known the sting of being taken for granted. How time after time after time we give, we choose, we sacrifice, and although many times unintentionally that exchange/sacrifice is overlooked, it can take the toll on a heart..... and you end up with that one straw that finally exhausts a soul.

I often speak of being the small miracle of love to someone. But how often do we feel that magic of being the recipient of that small miracle and say 'thank you'? As much as being that to someone is needed in this world today - sometimes saying 'thank you' can become that miracle.

Recognition of being chosen - whether in sharing the burden of someone's moment of tired weakness or stress, in celebrating life's great milestones and movements forward, having someone approach you and ask you to dance, in simple sharing a meal at a common table where wisdom, pain, and belly laughter is sprinkled like the richest flavoring salt you could dash on a dish... - that moment of saying 'thanks' for those moments can shock and humble someone.

But it is worth it to say thank you. That to them what may be a simple, common, everyday action they didn't think twice about could become something so great to someone else.

Those small moments can last forever in the recipient's heart.

She probably doesn't remember it, and I could tag her, but.... - I was reminded a while ago about being a recipient of that love.

I was still going through the divorce, WT2 maybe a year or so old, and we were in the sanctuary at church and he had fallen asleep on my lap - but not before pretty much emptying the entire diaper bag on the floor as that kept him occupied and quiet during service.

Service ended, my arms full, and well, the bag isn't going to pack itself. So in my bare feet, my monkey ninja toes got to work packing my bag while I kept WT2 asleep.

She is, I'm pretty sure, not a foot person to begin with, but she had seen from the row ahead of me what I was doing and quietly came around to my row, packed the bag for me and put it on the chair next to me so I didn't have to bend over to get it. As silently as she came over, she left. I gave her the 'thank you' look and smile as we were trying to keep the babe asleep, and we left and went our ways.

Something so small. But she chose to act on a need. She could have just left in her horror of me putting things in my bag with my bare feet (because single moms always find a way), but she chose to act kindly.

I've never forgotten that act. A reminder of how something so tiny could have an impact that's lasted these 10 years since she did that.......

But how many times do we receive and not say thank you? We may not get the chance. The world works that way often times.

However, when we can, do we? Good Midwesterners will brush it off, we've been socially conditioned to do that. But that doesn't mean we shouldn't do it - or receive that moment of thanks from a grateful heart.

If we treated our significant others like that how many divorces could be avoided? How many friendships could be salvaged? If we just took a few mere seconds to stop and recognize the bit of love we have been shown.

That which is recognized positively is more likely to continue. Encouragement for one to continue on looking for those opportunities. Investment in a heart that wants to give kindly - that positive synergy that begets more, increased greatness of positive love outpouring.

Look for the ways to be the small miracle of love every day, but don't forget to say thank you when the universe returns the favor to the giver.

©Kristen Garcia 04-2020

Still looking up

A year ago I was on the brink of executing plans that I had run through my mind for several days, trying to make sure everything seemed as normal as possible to minimize any negative retaliation potential that existed.

I spent the entire weekend nervous that I would appear to have something wrong, but, in the end, my plans went as I had hoped and thankfully, my worst concerns for what could have happened never came to fruition.

But I didn't give myself a chance to heal. Co-dependency is a beautiful thing, until it isn't, and work is my favorite go-to for forgetting and refocusing extra energy when there is no one around me to pour my love into.

I re-evaluated things, set new focused targets on what to accomplish sooner than later, and a few months later found myself in a situation that made me realize that healing isn't just forgetting about things and plowing forward. Healing is healing and there was still pain I didn't realize existed until that moment and that it was going to have to be dealt with if I ever wanted to be whole enough to be what I needed for myself - let alone be what someone could need in their life.

I dove into the abyss of myself trying to root out where the pain still remained and how to eliminate it with something other than just a band-aid; all while diving deeper into work because I'm highly obsessed with being successful when my name is on the line. I wish it was yin and yang, but oil and water is more exact.

But I knew I was still not facing myself in the mirror like I needed to. I wasn't carving the time into life to really heal and mend as I needed to.

Taking half the summer off - especially Paris 100% by myself - was my forced timeout to reset and remember who I am without certain deep distractions that I constantly cling to like Linus and his blanket when all else fails.

A year later - life is better. Healing is always a process, and the past year has been a long one in many ways. But I'm trying. And hopeful. And always trying to be better, more balanced, and as whole as possible so I can offer the very best to those around me.

At the end of the day, we are worthy to do for ourselves the great lengths we would go for others. We just have to figure out what that is going to look like and how to achieve it.

I still have no idea what I'm doing with that concept. I may never lock that down. But trying is the only way to figure it out, and I keep my eyes on the idea of what metamorphosis is in process.

©Kristen Garcia 04-2020

Leaving is Not Failure

The past months have taught me much, in stretching, sometimes painful ways.

I tend to operate with the driving notion that 'failure is not an option'. Sometimes it means I have to shift what my definition of 'success' is for something, but outright failure is never an option the way I'm built.

Sometimes failure can come from being too merciful, too empathetic, too gracious. When we strive so hard to keep the sins of others in our past from ruining what is in front of us at the time - even though all the red flags are there - we sometimes give too much grace to those who care not for us, in the end.

What has been taught as failure - walking away from an investment - has to be seen for what it truly is: a level of success.

While in the midst of trying to analyze and salvage the investment, the success is realizing that through it all, you still bring something incredible to the table. Success is seeing that the ones around you do not have that vision of who you are and therefore cannot truly maximize your presence in their life.

Failure is not backing away and marching on your own, as you always have; success is realizing that: Where purpose is not known, abnormal use (abuse) is inevitable; and it's time to stop living in a cycle that does not allow you to grow into a better person day after day.

Failure is not walking alone, again. And again. With no tribe or circle to surround you as some have. Success is isolating yourself away from the doubters, and those who do not invest in you enough for you to trust them with knowing your big dreams, your greatest triumphs and lows.

For when you know who you are, your dreams constantly in your vision, and every day you evaluate how you can take the next tiny step closer to execution of those - you learn how to become your greatest cheerleader.

And when the voice in your head is strong enough to tell the occasional gnawing doubt that creeps up that she's a bitch and needs to STFU as you march her back to the gates of Hell - success is protecting that wall of security that keeps other voices of doubt from creeping in. People can't attack or doubt what they are not aware of. And protecting that confidence in your vision and dreams to execute is paramount to staying the path of success.

Walking day to day with a slight IDGAF-what-you-think-of-me swagger to your step is not failure. It's years of pain, rejection, solitary life, obstinate will to live- and live well, awareness of who you were created to be, faith and resolve, and confidence coming alive that continues to make success each day possible.

Let the fire in your eyes keep those who talk big but are cowards away from you. Tis not failure to be willing to step up to those who want to challenge you when they support dream killing and injustices as normal. You cannot break under the pressure - that's failure.

But the success in that mentality is to still care, and give, and be empathetic to those around you that have yet to conquer the doubts, or have not yet learned who they could entrust with their dreams and those they thought were on their side only tried to crush them.

Success is being that trusted friend, where those around you can tell you their crazy dreams in safety, knowing that you will smile and nod, and ask them how they want to achieve it. Dive into their plans to see how sold they are on the dream, and cheerlead them on and rip to pieces the doubt they cannot defeat themselves.

Success is seeing them for who they are - and who they can be if they had that vision for themselves - and try to impart that to them until they themselves believe it. Or, revive that vision when the world has completely beaten them down to where basic survival is their only focus, and dreams are too painful to remember because they seem so unattainable at the time.

Success is being a builder of the strength and confidence in others. In giving them other perspectives that could still help them achieve their dreams. We as humans are born to create and imagine. Sometimes giving someone a new idea on how to achieve their desires can renew their plans enough that they will recognize the real road to success when it appears - because you helped them take their blinders off and made that alternate option possible to see.

There is one bit of failure that is wrapped up in the guise of patience - and that is waiting on people to get a glimpse of who you are.

At my age, either you know who I am, can see what I bring to the table, and understand how valuable and rare I truly am - or you don't. Those who do, make room and invest without reserve, without fear, without restraint.

As one of my dear friends put it - I am worthy of a swift and passionate declaration of love from others. And I believe it. Waiting for people to get that vision will chain you to a block of concrete at the bottom of the Hudson. And nothing good comes from that.

One of my previous supervisors told me long ago - if you just keep going and wait it out, everyone around you that's trying to hold you back and derail you will be gone. And he was right. Sadly, either he knew who I was and didn't care, or he never got the full idea of what I was capable of - because he ended up being in my way.

Success here was waiting it out as he advised. Because once he left, someone with greater vision of what I bring and have capacity to do came into my way and provided every ounce of support they could make happen. Sometimes success does take patience, but that doesn't mean you don't keep moving tenaciously forward while you wait for the walls around you that hold you back to fall.

Even previously free animals try to breech their chains and fences when put into captivity. They may never break through, but they died never stopping their attempts.

The other partial failure in letting go and walking alone is that others do make us better. The saying that when a woman is loved correctly she becomes ten times the woman she was - there is truth to that.

A woman multiplies what is given to her - which is why catty, bitchy, cutting women make life unbearable when you put them together. And yet - when you get strong, supportive, loving, visionary women together we are unstoppable. The same goes in friendships, marriage and life long partnerships.

But you lose that dynamic when you walk alone. Or when your closest friend(s) who provide this have died, or moved to where life separates you nearly 100%, or you live your life in such a way that you keep people in tight compartments and you refuse to make room for them in greater ways.

You wonder what you've lost in those moments. How much greater of a lover and friend and woman you would be if you still had those people in your life. And that hurts. And you mourn what you do not know, but you know it's worth mourning slightly. As is the loss of being able to share those great moments and multiply that joy and experience depth with another soul.

And when that feels a bit like failure, the perspective of what success truly looks like helps keep the faith, and the understanding that not all that looks like failure, truly is.

©Kristen Garcia 01-2020

Thoughts from 38 years

A few years ago one of my friends said 'Every time I turn around you're talking to someone different!'

And it's true. People have circles. And tribes. I have always floated, and never landed for long. I've never fit like a perfect puzzle piece in a circle of people.

But in that is a great blessing. I meet more people. My circle, as broken as and misfitting into it as I appear to fall into it, is broad. Black, Middle Eastern, Indian, Christian, Muslim, Atheist, DREAMER, citizen, undocumented, visitor visa, Gay, Straight, Trans, poor, struggling, doing ok, and want for nothing - and EVERYTHING in between.

My circle is not unbroken, but if I were to draw lines between its members it would encompass many corners of world. It may mean celebrating many things alone, or with one or two, but I would not trade the quality of people within it for well attended celebrations or influxes of communication on days of great celebration.

This past year has brought many challenges and changes.

Companions of many years lost or regularly separated from our daily lives.

Expansions at our home and at work.

Being stretched from unexpected people entering my life and delays on things that began as what looked to be a smooth process.

Telling Satan to fuck off and walking away from things I love when selling my soul to Satan was the condition to continue to do things I love with people I love. Sometimes we have to do the hard things to save our souls from evil.

Other than my weight and size going up, I wouldn't change any of it.

Last year at this time I was dragging the Wondertwins all over Granger (a 30-40 minute drive across town) trying to find a pineapple upside down cake. After 4 different places I landed a gluten free lemon cupcake. The frosting was a daisy. It was a compromise I settled for because I was tired and over searching for a unicorn on my birthday. I think the daisy was it's only redeeming factor.

This year, I asked and received. And it was delectable. And one of those dearly beloved souls my heart loves was able to join the Wondertwins and I for the cake. And since her birthday was about 10 days ago, it was fitting we got to eat it together.

Flame on. It's time to light the world on fire.....

If I could light the world up for just one day.... no one can be just like me, anyway.

©Kristen Garcia 03-2019

Resurrection Sunday 2020

Mark 16:7 (TPT): Run and tell his disciples, even Peter, that he is risen. He has gone ahead of you into Galilee and you will see him there, just like he told you.”

John 20:2-3 (TPT): So she went running as fast as she could to go tell Peter and the other disciple, the one Jesus loved. She told them, “They’ve taken the Lord’s body from the tomb, and we don’t know where he is!”

3Then Peter and the other disciple jumped up and ran to the tomb to go see for themselves.

------------------------------------

The empty tomb after a few soul-numbing days of darkness, uncertainty, fear, shattered expectations.....

Baffling revelations that still didn't sink in come the first day of the week.

But in these two passages lies something very beautiful - Peter's involvement.

Just a few double digit hours earlier, he vehemently denied ever knowing Jesus - this after swearing his allegiance to Jesus so deeply he would follow Him straight to death. Zealous, yet well-meaning, ignorance at it's finest.

His shame kept him away from the rest after Good Friday's culmination of the Curtain in the Holy of Holies being ripped from top to bottom. An immediate outcast, horrified disappointment in himself, and the added emotions to process after seeing his Messiah murdered in front of him and feeling a part of his disappearance.

And yet, the beloved John found his way to him. I'm not sure it's ever made known what it was about John's character and natural disposition that made him so beloved to Jesus - but I venture a guess he was naturally a lover of souls, empathetic, caring.

Perhaps the beloved John was someone who was naturally tilted to the Heart of Jesus so closely that he shared similar visions of hope and the greatness of people as Jesus did. And when two people who naturally see greatness in others, operate without effort in great love, find each other, there's a depth of friendship not normally seen between others. It is a special bond, especially if they get to walk in life together, always pulling from one another and honing their love capacities and skills.

And I venture to say this because in Mark, we see the angel tell the women specifically to go find Peter - who was no longer congregating with the remaining Eleven out of his behavior on Maunday Thursday. He had secluded himself away to be alone with his shame, with his struggle at how quickly he betrayed his so claimed Messiah, and his fear of retaliation.

And in John's Gospel we see the two of them together, but none of the other Eleven. The one who Jesus was closest to, caring enough about the soul of the group's most vocal and passionate grandstander to find him in his seclusion.

None of the others appear to have reached out to Peter, likely muddled in their own mixture of shame and fear and disbelief.

Not only on this day do we celebrate the resurrection of Jesus - the single defining moment of Christianity alongside of the virgin + Holy Spirit pregnancy/birth - but we should also pause to remember how even in the depths of despair the parable and defining characteristics of Jesus still play out.

Jesus was hated by many for spending His time congregating with those considered 'sinners' - which in the Amplified Bible translation is defined as non-practicing Jews.

They didn't go to church. They didn't submit to the demands of the church authorities to live what they considered 'holy' lives, they were seen as lesser-than and their mistreatment justified by those church leaders because if they were doing what they should have, they'd be blessed enough to be respected as proper humans.

But Jesus brought time, effort, resources, and an unconditional love to them for the first time in their lives. They felt worthy and seen, and their hearts heard for the first time by someone who carried a holy, pure, genuine love for them on His Being so deeply that you couldn't help but feel it as you interacted with Him.

He rarely found great faith in those that attended a building on regular schedules. He found it in a Roman military officer. In a desperate Samaritan woman. In those He healed in fields and back alleys as He walked.

The parable of the lost sheep played out time and time again in front of the Tweleve - and they never chose to soften their hearts enough to see it - even though the 'lost one' were entire villages, sectors of the population, groups of people He ate and laughed with in the everyday.

And in three days time during Holy Week, Peter found himself in their shoes. Outcast. Faithless. Ostracized so deeply he knew he would be skewered and rejected by those he had fellowshipped with prior.

So he hid. Alone.

Yet the beloved John, carrying a heart bent to Jesus, sought him out. Consoled him. I'm sure fought hard with Peter who was likely so depressed from his own shame that he didn't want anyone around him (I mean, Paul went toe to toe with him later on in the Bible, so I'm assuming his zealous nature didn't subside with his depression and shame, it was probably his default survival reaction method).

And yet John stayed. And ministered love. He did not let Peter know he was forgotten, or hated, or thrown away because of bad choices.

All of that solidified in the account in Mark where the Angel of God instructs the women to make sure they go tell Peter that Jesus has risen. It was known on both sides of eternity that Peter has sought solace in isolation. And what amazing grace and act of restoration to have both sides of eternity make sure that you know you are not forgotten, and still loved, and that you still matter deeply to the one you betrayed, or feel you had let down to a level that cannot be forgiven.

The first great act of ministry at the Resurrection.

It restored. It comforted. It loved.

It didn't force someone to move into a building to prove it's standing with Jesus.

It didn't hold the shame of the past and previous choices in front of their face.

It didn't demand that this or that or whatnot be changed to be able to see the empty tomb or be indwelt with Holy Power later in in the book of Acts.

John didn't demand that Peter come back into a building with the other Ten and pay tithes and do unpaid ('volunteer') work to support a tax-exempt building in order to be considered 'worthy' of being assisted, and only slightly assisted so that you don't abuse your privilege of being assisted.

No, that true character of Yahweh, made visible and able to be practically understood in Jesus, compelled John to seek out out a broken man where he was, and sent a lover of souls to minister to him where he was hiding, and offered a loving encouragement and restoration to his tired, broken being.

In the end, that perfect love, that unfailing love, that restoring love, empowered a man that had betrayed that love without demanding a thing, or saying a word in that direction. Because when great love and radical expression of that is extended, people have the power to naturally become different versions of themselves.

We are a reflection. Or at least, we are supposed to be.

Blessings on this Resurrection Sunday.

©Kristen Garcia 04-2020

Good Neighbor

There's been a lot of talk about being a good neighbor in this time of altered social dynamics.

Just remember to carry that love on after all this ends......

There are a lot of us out there - many single parents - who have to wade through this hot mess of logistics EVERY.SINGLE.DAY.

And we don't get help from our friends or families - we just soldier through it. Tough shit to you says society, and we just have to make a way.

I'm blessed that the DxH and his mom are right here and make a way every time something comes up to be there for the Wondertwins when my work gets crazy.

However, should something catastrophic happen to me they are the ONLY ones I could count on to help me take care of things in my life (and I know they would even after the WTs are out of the house in college). The feelings there are mutual, as I would drop everything and be there for them as needed should something happen there.

(For those who give me grief on why I would expect a life partner to understand, respect, and try to fit somewhat into my functional dysfunction with the DxH and his whole family - THIS is a major reason why.....I will NOT destroy the dynamic and love that still remains with who I consider family and my support...y'all can kindly go fuck off ......*end side rant*)

They are my only safety net of resources which is sobering and heartbreaking at the same time. But, I have a net I can count on.

But that's not everyone's situation - and I know that intimately as I try to step in whenever I physically can with my packed schedule to help where the holes are found, even though my opportunities are slim.

No one really cares what it takes to make it day to day when you're down to $12/week for food for a family of 3 so you're not pulling from savings to pay for the daily essentials. Get another job they'll tell you, when you're already working a job on call 24/7 and you have only a couple hours a day already with your children.

No one bats an eye when you say you have no one to watch a sick child because one day of unpaid leave can keep you from making rent or a utility payment. Suck it up and you should have made better choices originally.

Well, sorry about your luck, to those who have to live with transportation delays (South Bend Schools, I'm looking at you) and miss work or find out your child is stranded and can't get home or to some kind of programming. Well, this is why you should have three people on call to get your child at any moment......

Many soldier day to day through this, and many other majorly disruptive situations, without others around them caring about what it takes to do so.

Forgive us if we seem crass about it - we've been told to make it on our own without help from Day 1. You can step up and do it too, for a few weeks - just ask us how we've handled it for YEARS now.

You might get some insight and some tricks for making life work. You will also find out just how isolated many around you have been while you carried on as a non-caring neighbor.

Just make sure all the offers and willingness you're open to doing in this time of a few weeks of flattening the curve behavior extends forever afterwards. You'd be surprised how many around you could use the assistance if you just open your eyes and hearts.

If we're willing to create safety nets of care and support for our most vulnerable now - make sure to redefine 'most vulnerable' afterwards and carry on what we consider being good, loving neighbors.

©Kristen Garcia 04-2020

You Should Be Here

I thought of you today. I thought of you in a way that erased nearly 16 years of evolving grief since I got the call you had died. Somehow I managed to swallow the tears until I was alone in the car on the way home. 3+ hours later..... By the grace of God I go.

You see, I was killing time before the party wandering around the kitschy/shabby chic department of a store and letting the beauty of some of the items roll around in my soul. And I paused, and I wondered:

- Will anyone ever care enough about me to take the time to not only understand on what levels and why certain things like this bring me joy, but understand it enough to appreciate that side of who I am?

My soul paused about the time I wanted to say to myself - because I've never mattered that much to anyone that they took the time to open up that side of me - and I stopped myself from saying that because it was not 100% true.

You did. You were the only one of two people who have ever loved me and cared enough about me to get to that level.

And then a song came on.... one of the songs that has lyrics that reminds me of you....... not 15 seconds later.

🎵"And if I could turn back the clock, I'd make sure the light defeated the dark, I spend every hour of every day keeping you safe. I'd climb every mountain, swim every ocean, just to be with you....."🎵 Somehow I swallowed my tears.

About 20 minutes later I'm at the party and go to the cooler to see what's available and right on top is this bottle. Our inside joke. One of many, but a central foundation of what brings you to my mind if I have not thought often of you for a while.

Strike number three...... still swallowing my tears..... I quietly toasted it to you and drank it, hoping my tears would stay down with every sip.

You should be here. Maybe not with me, but at least physically still here on the earth laughing and setting the example of what it is to love to everyone around you.

You and I were cut from the same cloth - God somehow decided to give us so much love that it would eat us alive if we didn't extend it overflowing in it's generosity to anyone possible around us.

Like an artist who's work consumes them if they can't get it out of their soul fast enough to where they can't eat or drink until it's pushed out of their soul - such is the level of love and kindness we were born with.

And somehow, God dropped us in each other's life.

You are the only one who's ever even come close to out-loving me, and I may very well still have every single gift you gave me - except the roses from that Valentine's Day that I had dried and kept in the house all these years. My fuzzy night fury decimated them in his first few weeks of adoption to the Acre.

I have endless more words I can say. But in six weeks or so I should be at your graveside for the first time in 15 years. My girlfriend said she'd take me over there while I'm in town - and save me an empty Heineken bottle so I don't have to bring one in my luggage.

I pray when your parents stop by your grave the morning after I'm there, because I'm sure they still go at least once a day to say hello to you, they will see the empty bottle filled with daisies. I pray God will remind them of our inside joke and know that I was able to get back to say hi, and have a long conversation and cry next to the saying 'The only thing bigger than his feet, was his heart' that's on the backside of your headstone.

Because it was an honor to be loved by you. And I miss you as much right now as the moment I hung the phone up with Sherri when she called to tell me you had died.

©Kristen Garcia 05-2019