For time and all eternity.

One of the most gratifying experiences here on Earth is to watch our kids grow up and make right choices, do the best they can do to improve their lives and themselves, learn, love, and be happy.
I had my first kid at age 9. We can have kids without being a mother, ya know. These kids I watched being born, help care for, and love like my own were my sisters' children. I've had the priveledge to see them grow and love them like my own. I try my best to be at special occasions in their lives, so, after much thought and prayer, I flew to Portugal for 9 days to help prepare the wedding of one of the most special people God has ever created. I was sleep deprived, tired, my back and my legs hurt like crazy.... but I had a blast. There's something about helping people you love that it can't be explained. I was so, so happy. Happy that Vasco has found the love of his life; happy that she loves him just as much and is such a special girl; happy that they are happy, and just plain happy to be there and share this big moment with them.
    

The preparation was as much stressful as it was fun. I could probably write a book with all the little things that kept coming up, unexpected, things that had to be resolved right then and there, and how we managed to do it all, sometimes using the magic of being at two places at the same time. Believe me, it can be done.

Friday morning was the big day. The church/civil marriage was at 1:00, and there were a million things to be done before that. A little side note to say that in Portugal, for all the years people can remember, only the catholic church had authority to marry a couple and have that marriage legally accepted by the government. If non catholic couples wanted to do a church ceremony, they had to pay a judge to be there at the appointed time to do it legally. So, it's no wonder that the changes that happened in the last few months were welcomed by the LDS church and all non catholic churches, for a new law was made that the clergy of any organized church will have the legal authority to perform such ceremonies. Vasco and Ariana's wedding was the first in their district to happen after the law was implemented, so we were all thrilled that our bishop was going to be performing the ceremony. (and to my LDS friends, that also means that, when the temple in Portugal is complete, a sealing will be all that couples will need to be married for time and eternity. For now, we're happy that the bishop can marry them for time, and they can make the trip to the Madrid to be sealed for eternity. But I digress...)

It was a busy but fun morning for me, since I was staying at my sister's and got to see the groom trying to figure out what to do first and pacing from one room to another, under a stress that only us that know him well could tell was swelling inside him. He always manages to appear calm and peaceful, but we know when nerves and tension make their way into his heart. I remember the morning I got married, it was terribly stressful... but somehow, when we see it in others we find it rather comical. Vasco probably got more hugs and kisses from me than he really asked for. (come to think of it, he never asked for any, but they kept coming anyway)

I was also in charge of picking up the bouquet at the florist, and go to the other side of town to help the bride get dressed and ready. So I got to see both of them before the wedding, and she wasn't any less nervous than him; in fact, she was a basketcase. With no reason for it, for she was radiant and gorgeous and no man in this world would think that she did not look splendid.

See the phone here? They kept calling each other checking on how much longer the other would take to be ready, and what they were doing at that time. Needless to say, this made them both late. REALLY late!

And may I just add, what a gorgeous, handsome man, my boy had turned out to be!

I don't think Ariana will ever know how much it meant to me that she asked me to help her get ready. I love this girl so dearly. Being there with her was a real privelege and I will forever treasure that time with her. When her friend left, after doing her hair, it was just the two of us and my heart was full. I had to hold back my tears so many times, I was in awe and as happy as could be.

Yeah, here's the phone on the other side of the line. They really cracked me up.

She was stunning. Seriously, I would look at her and want to burst into tears. The dress was gorgeous, the flowers and the veil made her look like a princess, and her eyes... there was something in her eyes that lit the room, and made any heart melt. She looked absolutly perfect.

Are there any words to describe this beauty?

And then another call...

She finally made it to the chapel!

...and hand in hand, no more phone calls. They were together.

Wasn't all the stress worth it?

The bishop then announced a special musical number. And Ariana stood by the piano and sang "I feel my Savior's love" like a perfect angel.

By now the pictures I was taking were turning all blury, because I could no longer contain the tears.

We all felt our Savior's love.

And off we went for lunch and lots of fun...

Picture time!!!

beautiful and carefree...

and laughing all the way. Who knows what about!

Back to more fun...

...and the famous first dance.

Watching them was a delight. And we all joined in the fun, dance,  even kareoke. Yeah, you should've been there to hear me sing! Aren't you sad you miss such an event!

The evening was one of the funnest I can remember. The day had been so glorious, that we thought we could not be happier that we were then.

We were wrong.

I wish I could put into words the feelings I experienced the next day at the Temple. I wish I could express the peace, joy, love and gratitude I felt, watching the sparkling in their eyes as they were declared sealed for all eternity. I wish I could transmit the feelings that started swelling in my heart, until it felt it would explode with happiness. Here was my boy, my dear, dear boy, turned into a good man, an extraordinary human being, hand in hand with his eternal companion. I couldn't stop crying. I remember one day when a child came to me at church and asked me why do people cry when bearing their testimonies about Christ. The best explanation I could give her is that, when we feel The Spirit of God, we are filled with an emotion that transcends our human capacities to hold it. So, our bodie doesn't quite know how to react to such amount of divinity. So we cry. Kind of like when something bursts, it leaks. And it's not because we are sad, it's because we are so, so happy, and we don't know how to put into words what we want to say. I wanted to let Vasco and Ariana peak into my heart and see what was inside. Instead, I hugged my nephew with a teary smile, the last hug I would give him for a good while. I just remember telling him to be happy. And then I turned to my new niece, and we embraced, and we sobbed, and all we could say to each other was "thank you". We stayed like that for a bit, and then, on to wipe our faces from the runny make up.

Not that it would matter. We cried a whole bunch more even after that.

We left them with a tear in an eye and a smile in our hearts.

Their "happily ever after" had just begun.

Utah

I'm not sure I'll be able to accurately describe my experience in Utah. It has been over 13 years that I've been there. Salt lake City has changed. Others cities have changed. But if something remains the same, it's the spirit I feel when I see the mountains and breathe the Utah fresh air. It's like breathing pure joy. I love Salt Lake City. And something else has remained the same: the love of very dear, special friends. Some things never change. I'm eternally gratefully for that.

When I was about to land in S.L.C., it was the end of the day. The sun was setting, but I could still see the land under me. I saw the desert giving place to the majestic mountains, then the Great Salt lake, more Mountains, and all of the sudden, just like that, the valley. I saw thousands of homes, buildings, lights... and I couldn't help but thinking about Brigham Young and his vision, when the pioneers arrived in Salt Lake. He said "This is the place". But the place was desert and dry soil and not exactly the garden of Eden...

If only he could see it now. I got goosebumps when I landed. Nothing compares to the feeling of just being there. I knew I was in for a great 6 days. I just didn't know how great they would turn out to be.

The Evans picked me up at the airport, and seeing them was the beginning of my emotional experience. I spend Tuesday night with them, the whole family was home and it was a treat to be near them all.

On Wednesday we toured the Conference Center, felt the reverence that is inside it, walked through that great space and felt like we were on sacred ground. We strolled through Temple square, and had lunch in a restaurant on the 8th floor of the Joseph Smith Building. I was eating my chicken salad sandwich and through the window, I could see the magnificent Salt lake Temple. I remember them asking me what I'd like to do next... Nothing, really. I would have stayed there forever. Where else can you sit down, have lunch, and have a view like that? I would've been perfectly content to stay there and feel the sweet spirit of the temple. It was that good.

 

 That evening we roasted marshmallows in the back yard and felt the quietness of the place. On Thursday they took me to see the movie "17 miracles". And I cried... cried and cried. But it was a happy cry. The moving was touching and the tears could not be held. That's when the crying sprout began... and it would not stop for my whole stay in Utah. The Evans took me to tooele to be with My Online Friends. And this is the part where I stop for a break, because I can't keep on writing with tears in my eyes. I will be back tonight and tell all about my experience in Tooele.
                                 ******************************************

Meeting my online friends has been the highlight of the year. I'm not sure how to explain it... I met people that I already knew. Does that make any sense? We hugged, laughed a LOT, cried during testimony meeting, and truly bonded. I can never forget that experience.
Meeting my friend Misty was something else... She has been my friend for years! She's been my confident, my strength when I needed it the most, my shoulder, my dearest friend. When I saw her coming I was already there, we were having opening ceremonies. My heart leaped when I saw her. I ran to her and hugged her for a long while... It didn't feel like I was meeting her for the first time. It felt like I was reconnecting with a childhood friend that I hadn't seen in a while. I was not surprised by the way she talked, laughed, cried. As she would later describe it, it was like meeting a long lost sister. This is truly what I feel for her. During the weekend it was just so nice to give her a hug when I felt like it... it was soooooo nice to hold her baby, make him laugh, and even take a nap with him on the couch... it was fantastic. I miss her so very much already...

There were other people that touched my heart deeply too. There was 35 of us! All in the same house, with air mattresses and blankets everywhere. We had activities, worked on a fantastic humanitarian project, even visited the ladies prison in Draper. That was phenomenal. It was their Relief Society activity evening, and just to know the people behind the uniforms was unique. It was a very spiritual experience. I'll be forever grateful for the people that allowed that to happen, and for my dear friend that invited me to go too. It will be hard to forget that evening there, the ride there and back home, the time we spent together in the car talking and getting to know each other better, and crying. There was a lot of that, I have to confess. But they were happy tears.

There was one night that five of us stayed up until almost six in the morning. Just talking and being silly in the dark. And laughing. A lot!

When it was time to leave, my heart was so full, but also so sad for leaving my friends. I did make room in my heart to bring them with me though. They are still here.

It was in this state of happiness/joy/sadness that I met the Evans again to go to the conference center and watch "Music and the Spoken Word", with the Mormon tabernacle choir. Oh.My.Goodness. It was amazing! To hear them sing in that huge room, and to hear the organ echoing loud in my soul... I have no words. It was a dream come true. I was so touched... I think that since hearing them sing until I had to leave the next morning, I was an emotional wreck. In a good sense. But every little thing would make me think of Jesus and cry in gratitude. The mountains. The sunset. The Salt Lake valley. Everything had a special touch to it.

Did I say how much I love Utah yet? We breathe better there. I can't explain it, I can only attribute this feeling to The Spirit that's felt there. Maybe because of the pioneers that made it all happen. Maybe because of the stone cutters that worked at the salt Lake Temple years ago. Maybe because we can't drive half an hour without seeing a beautiful, peaceful temple. Or two, or three, or four, depending each direction we're driving. Or maybe because, indeed, "This is the place".

Misty is a professional photographer. She shot a few pictures of me, this is one of them. It was really cool to have her walk in front of me and shoot while I posed. I felt like I was walking on a red carpet. Come to think of it, I really was. Real friends mean the world to me, and this lady is simply the best of friends.

Can't wait for the next Girl's Weekend Out!

My Online Friends

I remember my husband coming home with a computer about, hum let's say, 13 years ago. The thing was beige, huge and ugly. I asked him what in the world we'd need that for, and then gave him the sermon, we already have enough distractions in life, I don't even have time to watch tv, etc etc. He told me I could email my family. I told him my family and I WROTE to each other.
 Ha.
 Double ha!
 When did the world change so much? Can I even imagine life without the internet today? I'd survive, of course I would. But it would be hard, part of it being that I have friends that live in my computer. They have lived there for about ten years, and they've been here for me through the rocky stages of my life. The have helped me grow with their examples, and they have taught me too many things. My Online Friends are a big part of my life, and we comunicate almost daily. I've seen their pictures, heard their voices, laughed over almost to nothing, cried when one of them goes through a trial, and smile when I think of them. Over the years my list of online friends has slowly grown, and I enjoy meeting new faces, learning about people. We are a bunch of gooffy, strong and beautiful women, each one unique, each one a jewel. We are married, single, we have kids, we can't conceive, we are republicans, we are democrats, we are short, we are tall, and some of us even like celery. Ok, let's not go there.

During the years I have wondered what would it be like to actually meet them, hug them, play with them, see what they look like when they first get up and when they're not smiling for the photo. I wondered what I would feel being around the people I know so well, yet have never met. Odd. How can someone love who she cannot see? But I do, I really do, and I still dream that one day I will meet them all. For now, they live in my computer and in my heart.

My Online Friends have a weekend together once a year. Between living in Boony Ville and moving to Portugal, I never had the chance to go to the girl's weekend out. I have read and heard about previous gwo's, and ached to be there, knowing perfectly well it was impossible... then. This year, well, let's say I've been jumping up and down for the las two months, because on Thursday, August 4th 2011, I will land in Utah in a parachutte and for the whole weekend, I'll be with them. In the same house. In the same room. Breathing the same air.
How can one prepare for this? I can't write down my feelings and emotions right now... excitement, anxiety, joy, fear (what if they don't like me?), even nausea. Will I laugh and shriek, or will I cry? Will I jump up and down, or or I fall flat on the floor? Will I hug them 'til they burst, or will I paralyze? Or will I, like I do many a time when I'm extremly nervous, start laughing so hard that no one will be able to stop me for at least 2 straight hours? (or until someone knocks me in the head with a hammer, or manages to shove a xanax down my throat)

* sigh*

** double sigh**

I will fly to UT tomorrow and stay with friends until Thursday. Then they will take me to my very first GWO.

What will follow, we'll all have to live and see.

37

Where did 25 go?

I fell asleep last night while nursing my daughter. She likes to be rocked and I guess the constant back and forth motion let me drift off to dream land.... I dreamed a lot! Good things, not so good things, happiness, fear, joy, frustration... I dreamed of long trips and the kids growing... I dreamed of distant friends coming close, and then getting distant again... I dreamed of family togetherness and of ocean and waves and squeals of delight... I dreamed of drastic changes and my life being reconstructed for the fourth time... Weird dreams. I must have slept a lot. I don't remember how my daughter got out of my arms, and who carried me to bed... my bed, but wait, a different bed, a different home... I woke up with a morning kiss from my 13 year old daughter, before my husband had to drive her to school. Middle school. She is gorgeous, tall and loving, she is all I dreamed her to be... After she leaves I find a young boy sleeping in his bed, and somehow I know I have to wake him up and help him get ready for school. He is 9. My heart is full just looking at him... so peaceful, so angelic... I kiss him and he grabs my neck in a tight hug. My son. I have dreamed about you also.

It was a long night, indeed. I'm 37 and can't explain it. I'm really 25. No, really! That's what I feel, and that's what I see in the mirror. I can't account for that 12 year gap. I just know that the kids grew up, are beautiful inside and out, and it all happened in a wink of an eye.

My mother was 37 once. So were my two older sisters. They're all grown up. I wonder when I'll grow up...

I don't think it will ever sink in that I turned 37 last week. But then again, who cares? I can imagine myself at 75, looking back in time, and wishing I could be 37 again... So I guess I should make this, the best year of my life. Right?

Yeah, I thought so too.

How many mes are in me?

I've been thinking about how others perceive me lately. Me. What am I made of? "sugar and spice, and something nice"... a dash of magic dust and a mole here and there... a funny bone cause "funny things are everywhere"...

I think I'm the same person I was twenty years ago. I really do. Now, of course I go through seasons, like everyone. More than four, I've got to admit. Maybe... let's see... Early Summer, Summer, peak Summer, late Summer, early Fall... I guess that would made sixteen seasons. That's more like it!
But the essence, the true color, remains the same. I'm not sixteen different mes. I'm Bela. And I wonder how many people truly know me as such. I like adventure. I crave laughter. I love life and nature. I live to see my kids smile. And I need friends. I love to feel with my feet. The thick grass, the sand on the beach, the warm water in the shower, the cobblestones in European streets, the ice cold ocean on New Year's Eve. And let me tell you, it WAS cold.... but still good for a swim and run. I guess that's it, I like to feel. Warm, cold, prickly or smooth. I hate numbness. I guess I can say I'm passionate about... pretty much everything. Not that I like to pick a fight.... but there's always more than an angle to be looked at when placed with certainties.

To tell you the truth, I have no idea what I'm talking about here, what's the theme of this inner conversation; seems like it's going everywhere and nowhere at all. But surely it will get somewhere. Let's hope.

I mostly want to move mountains. What's so wrong about wanting that? And yes, fly too. If I believe it, why can't I?
"Fly away home" is a book I still keep as a favorite. At age 2, my daughter could recite it, page by page, as if she could read it. Maybe she could... I guess I read it to her so many times, she not only memorized the words, but could recognize each one of them. She's 12 now and is a bookworm. And I'm glad. she's flying.

"And will you succeed? Yes, you will, indeed! 98and 3/4% guaranteed!
 Kid, you'll move mountains."

(and who am I to doubt Dr. Seuss?)

Huuummmmm

I slacked. Well I got sick, but that's no excuse.
It's Christmas. It's Christmas... Maybe if I say it a lot it will feel real.... it all goes so fast!
Kids asleep, Santa has come and we may get snow in the morning. Never had a white Christmas, that would be neat!

I need to catch up on the atributes of Christ.
Giving
Trustworthy
Faithful
Fearless
Courageous
Grateful
Wise
Loving
Considerate of others
Humble
Powerful
Altruistic

So many more qualities. I do hope and pray that this Christmas we will all recognize Him as our Savior, The Only Way to Eternal Life with our Heavenly Father.

May we all do a little more.

Try a bit harder.

Be a little better.



Merry Christmas to all....

Healing

To all of those who had faith in Him, Jesus blessed with the gift of healing. They would come from all places, near and far, to go to Him and be healed from their sickness or long life condition. Blind men, deaf, leppers, and so many others that came to Him, and with His touch or even just His voice, Christ healed them. I can even recall reading about the roman that plead for the life of his servant, too sick to come to Jesus, but this roman's faith was big enough to believe that Jesus didn't even have to come to the sick man, a word from the Master would be enough to heal his servant. Indeed.

"Thou Faith has made thee whole".

I am grateful for the gift of healing and for the miracles that still happen today, in the name of Christ.

I am also grateful for the wisdom God gave to men to learn and discover all that's out there that can be used for the healing of the sick. I am grateful for doctors and prescription drugs that can get us on our feet again.

In case you haven't guessed by now, yes, I am sick today and am praying the medecine they gave me will help me feel better soon.

So much for inspiration today... but didn't want to skip a day to think of an atribute of Christ.

Hoping for a better tomorrow....

Friendship

I love the scripture where Christ refers to us as His friends. Somehow it touches my heart to know that He, the Savior of Mankind, considers me His friend.

A real friend in this life is hard to find. So, if you have some, hold on to them. Don't give up on them. Inspire them. Show them that you care. Be there. Never let your friend feel alone. Friendship is a gift, a big gift that fits only in a big heart.

Jesus was left alone when He needed His friends the most. I guess He had to go through His agony on His own. He, more than anyone, knows what it feels like to be left alone; and because of that, we take comfort in knowing that He will never leave us.

Frienship. What a glorious blessing it is, to have a friend. The only thing betther than that, is to BE a friend.


May we all be that friend we wish we had. What a wonderful world this would be if we could follow just this one simple suggestion.

Just imagine...

Charity

As I think of Christ this Season, and as the day goes by and I try to think what character trait that Jesus possessed will help me this specific moment, it always becomes clear to me what I want to talk about. Today was no exception.

Charity, the true love of  Christ. Can we really feel that same love? Well, we are commanded to. Faith, hope and charity... "above all of these, charity is the greatest".
I don't talk about donating a dollar to the salvation army volunteer that rings the bell at the mall entrance. If I think I'm being charitable when I donate my spare change, I'm wrong. That volunteer, on the other hand, is giving his time to be there in the cold, he his giving of himself. That, yes, that is charity.

I am amazed at people that, when crisis comes to someone's life, leave all they are doing to make a phone call and see what can be done for that person. Some leave the half washed dishes in the sink and run to that person's home, just to provide some comfort... some start cooking meals to be delivered, while others offer services, like watching the kids, cleaning the house, filling the pantry, and so on. And others, when there's nothing else that can be done, simply drop on their knees and pray, the most heartfelt prayer they've said in a long time.

To give of self, to walk the extra mile, to truly love someone, to reach out to a drowning soul... those are the things that will be writen in the Big Book and will help us to get to Him some day.... and let Him come to our hearts now.

Character traits of Christ

I realize I should be doing this already, since it's December 10th and it would've been nice to have started in the beginning of the month. But since it's always better late than never, I will start today. My goal is to ponder about one character trait of Christ a day, and then try to apply it to my life.
The first one I want to talk about is


FORGIVENESS


They say it's hard to ask for forgiveness; hard to apologize; hard to say " I'm sorry dude, I was a total jerk". They say it takes courage, and willingness to admit a wrong, having to, at times, swallow some frogs and leave pride aside. Maybe. I guess that if I think about it, I see why people say it's hard. But not as hard as being on the other side; being the one that was hurt, being the one that was offended, being the one that was victim or cruelty and harm.
When we are on that side of the fence, having someone come and say "I'm sorry" may even provoke more feelings of distress.
You're sorry? Really? Don't say... Whay my life is completly turned upside down because of you, and you think that walking here and simply saying I'm sorry will just fix everything... and I guess I'm supposed to just say, oh it's ok, run along now, all is well, thanks for apologizing... NOT!

The truth is, forgiving IS the hardest thing to do. To be able to let go, to be able to look at the person who hurt us in a nice way again, and to be able to not think about whatever it was that was done when you see that person, and to not roll our eyes just as someone mentions her or his name. That is the true hard thing to do.
As graceful as we want to be at times, we do say we forgive, and in an attempt to be Christlike, we do accept apologies, and let that person sigh in relief. But as we find ourselves alone, we think back and are not at peace. We need more. We need to really let it all out, and be able to move on, with a heart full of love and gratitude. Yes, gratitude. Because forgiving is a gift, and when received, we grow inside, we grow in joy, peace and faith.
It's not easy.

There's a Michael Mclean favorite that sings: "only love nourishes the soul. If it's not love, simply let it go."

Today I would like to thank all my friends that, in present or past, have been able to accomplish this great challenge. Thank you to those that, just like Christ, chose to look at my qualities and overlook the faults. Thanks for loving me after you realized I'm not perfect, and have yet a long journey ahead to get even close to it. Thank you to my children that accept my apologies when I never get to make the promised cookies. Thank you to my sister for laughing at the times I yelled at her and hit her hard (yes, I was small, but feisty). Thank you to each and everyone of you that, after a sincere apology, just look at me, smile in spite of the situation, slap me gently in the head and say in a joking tone, "you do it again, I'll chase you down and beat you up".

Thank you for doing the true hard thing, letting go.

Getting along...

Think family. Then friends. Then society. Then the whole world.

There's too many of us. And too many means many ideas, many atitudes, many opinions, many points of view. But we need to get along; we've got to get a long. We need to accept that we are all different, do things different ways, and many a time, we'll bump into each other and step on each other's toes and get hurt. I need to accept different atitudes and get rid of my pride. We are all brothers and sisters.

I know, cheesy as cheese can be, but in the end, it's the truth.

Growing up with a brother and three older sisters was quite an adventure. If I think hard, I'll remember the time we argued; the times I'd yell and lock myself in the room, the times I cried because I tought I had no one that understood me. But I really have to think extra hard to remember those days, and I'm sure that there are more that I completly let out my heart and mind. When I think back into my childhood, I remember smiles; I remember giving; I remember playing. I remember covering up for my sister so mom wouldn't know that she broke the lamp; I remember laughing so hard that we cried, and laughing so hard that made my sis pee in her pants. I won't say which sister, so she won't hit me. But it was quite funny. I remember standind together in a secret present for mom, and standing together when the other was sad. I remember hugs. And kisses. And mushy poems as a sad attempt to describe my love for them. We were all so different, but we did get along. We had to. And to this day, we smile big and heartwarmed when we see each other, it makes us happy to be together, to laugh, to argue (yeah, still do that), to share, to cry, to love.

The secret of getting along?

Tolerance. 

And yet I need to be constantly reminded that we, as in a big world family, need to work on the same level as we work with our blood family.

This Christmas I want to learn to love again; I want a new perspective of things; I want to develop more tolerance, I want to love better, serve better, be better. Those things I'll put on my Christmas list... and I know that if I'm good, "Santa" will grant them to me. And I will be a better sister, a better mother, a better wife, a better daughter, a better neighbor, a better friend.

Wait and see.

I believe.

The last thing I do every night before coming to bed is kiss my children. I’ve been doing it for as long as they’re alive. It has to be the very last thing, even after bathroom and teeth brushing. I come by their beds, and with the very little light there is in the room, I look at each one of them in awe, contemplating their features, their smooth skin, their angelical face. I then bend over and gently kiss them, tuck them in, and sigh. It’s one of the best moments of the day, if not the best… and yet they don’t know I’m there; when they wake up in the morning they have no recollection of that episode, because, well, they were asleep! But to me it’s a magical moment.

Tonight, for the first time in twelve and a half years, something stroke me hard in my mind as I covered my little boy up with his blanket; I wondered if my mother had the same daily routine when I was a child… I wondered if she spent hours of looking at me while I quietly slept, of tucking me in, of wondering of what my future would be, of being amazed by my innocence and of thinking was fast I was growing. I’m not sure she did; she was always so busy and worked so hard to assure our safety and well being, that I can understand if she didn’t. You see, mom would go out to work in the morning and just come home late at night. We often had dinner with our neighbours down the street (we being my four older siblings and I) and would then come home, do our homework and go to bed. I remember listening to her footsteps as she tiptoed up the stairs. Just a few minutes later I could fell the smell of her cooking what would be our lunch for the next day. She would then wrap the pan of stew in two heavy blankets, so the food would still be warm when we were to eat it the following day. That way we didn’t have to mess with matches to heat it up. We hadn’t developed the concept of a microwave back then. And believe me, I’m not that old!

So yeah, I guess I should ask her if she still had the time to come and tuck us in, kiss us good night. My guess will be that yes, she did. How can a mother not want the comfort of looking at her offspring when they’re at their best… sleeping…

Mom had to work that hard to keep us together. Dad died in a car accident at 31 years of age, leaving her with five children to support, the oldest being twelve, and the youngest being me, one year old Bela. I remember missing her a lot. Now that I am a mother, I understand, or at least try to comprehend how suffocating her days away from us must have been back then.

Somehow, we managed to be happy.

When I left Portugal to marry and live in the United States fourteen years ago, she had a hard enough time. She would come to understand and accept and love my husband later on. We tried to visit once a year, which was just enough to cheer her up a couple of weeks. When we decided to move to Portugal after ten years of marriage, I can only imagine her joy… when we decided to move back to the United States just a few months ago, I didn’t have to imagine her pain. I saw it stamped in her eyes. I could see the sadness, the loneliness, the longing for the days back when she had to work so hard but at the end of the day, she had us all under her roof. I hugged my mother and told her I loved her. I saw the tears swell up in her eyes and she walked away to her room, now shared with another lady in a nursing home. All those years of hard work are giving it’s fruits now… illness has her captive in a world that’s not her own, and if I could only have this wish come true, I would take you out to lunch today mom, like I did the past four years… I would buy you your favourite colour roses, red; a dozen of them. We would then talk about memories and probably laugh a lot. I am sorry I can’t take you out for lunch this year… what I can, and will do everyday of my life, is love you and be grateful for the great sacrifices you have made in your life, so we could stay together as a family. You did well… we all turned out just fine. I’m so very sorry you are lonely today.

Happy Birthday mom.

Perspectives...

I guess it all depends on how you look at it!

I want to thank blogspot, facebook and photobucket...

.. for keeping some of my most precious memories safe. I just recently got robbed, and of all that was taken, the pics and videos in my camera and laptop were by far the greatest lost. I'm so grateful I can still keep what was published on these three sites...