TROPICAL EVERGREEN WREATH: How I came to terms with feeling out of place

One of my favorite traditions since having my own family has been creating my very own custom wreath at Christmas. The making of my own wreaths in the Spring or Fall has also been a joyful and enriching activity for me.

This year, I put off making my wreath for various reasons, but once I did, I had to face something that I have been repressing.

Background:

I am originally from El Salvador, Central America and my parents fled at different times but during the turmoil of civil war. At the age of 5 years, I was no longer living in the land of my birth. We were “illegal aliens” in the United States. By age 11, my family was able to obtain refugee status in Canada and we moved to the diverse and culturally rich Vancouver Eastside in British Columbia.

I remember being a feisty kid who made friends easily. Thanks to the technology of social media, I continue to be blessed with contact with my childhood friends. I learned from these kids how to be “Canadian”. I felt more at ease in Canada than I did in the US. Even as a child, I felt a difference in the way my culture was perceived by the adults around me.

However, growing up as a first-generation Canadian means that when we travel to the “motherland”, people there know I am not from there. I am, but I am not considered to be one of them anymore. I live in two worlds. The one that I knew even as a child because the Latin American culture was very much a part of my home, and the new world I am a part of as a citizen. I constantly have 2 languages in my head and often forget words in both languages. Fortunately, I happily substitute whatever word comes into my mind. If that were not complicated enough, I married outside of my culture. And here is where I start this post.

Current Status:

There is no doubt in my mind that I have been blessed and that I have been spared. My child who was sick has been spared and my family has been tenderly, mercifully kept in the safety and love of a kind and gracious Heavenly Father.

I know, however, that we are now living with some of the side effects of a terrible couple of years and processing so much that we couldn’t process when we were in survival mode.

My kid who beat cancer: This year marked the end of my daughter’s cancer treatment and the end of almost 2 years of stress-filled roller coaster rides for a pansy like me who hates roller coasters!

Everything that I had planned and that I had implemented, to motivate my child with so that we could get through treatment was thrown out the window with a pandemic hitting us just as she was finishing chemotherapy.

If anyone needs lessons on how to explore resentment, hit me up, I have a-plenty! But resentment at who? The universe? Yup, pretty much everyone and everything made me angry and resentful.

My modified Muster Point Meme. 

My hardworking yet employment challenged husband: Aaron lost his job this September after finally having secured employment from a reputable company which actually paid on time, in full and had benefits after 6 months. We were blessed with extended medical benefits for all of 2.5 months. Well, we got to breathe easy for 2.5 months! Yay!

For many reasons my feelings of resentment and anger got to a whole other level. Aaron understood in a very personal way what it is to feel out of place. Together we decided that we would take this new challenge as a way to refine our spirits more, exercise our faith and patience and continue to trust in God's plan for us and our family.

What I needed when Aaron lost his job was what Lily demonstrated for Aven as she went through a rigorous treatment schedule. 

My faith community: If I were to share everything I have had to deal with over the past couple of years, it would be evident that anyone with blood running through their veins would/could experience a faith crisis. And when I did have an ongoing faith crisis, I was LUCKY (blessed) to have in my life amazing mentors who are women of faith. My fantastic women's leader that I worked with when I lived in Ft McMurray, who remains my friend and gives me WONDERFUL advice. My amazing friend from my days in the Spanish Ward in Vancouver, whose example of tenacity and faith can be likened to Abish of our Book of Mormon scripture. My patient and non-judging friends who allow me to ask questions and provide a safe place for me to share concerns.

Yet, I carry resentment in the area of my faith. As a feminist and a liberal minded woman of color, I have in recent years felt out of place.

And here walks in my beautiful, tropical land inspired fusion of two countries: Christmas Wreath.

What does my current status have to do with a Christmas wreath?

I am glad you asked.

You see, one of the trips that was postponed or cancelled was a trip to my motherland with our children so that they could spend time with their grandmother and great-grandmother. They were to have a family history experience and get to know part of their culture in the actual land of my birth! This place which I so clumsily tried to depict in my humble wreath is a place of solace for me. I needed to see my mother and grandmother as much or more than my children desired to spend time with their grandmother and meet their great-grandmother. Las Marias, the village where I was born, has on 2 previous occasions provided me with sacred learnings. I longed to go there like many believers long to go to their holy temples or sacred grounds. It was here that as a young woman, I grew close to and learned from the matriarchs in my family.

Instead, I painted a house with the colors and a few of the comfort items I remember about the little village where I was born. The house I added to my Christmas wreath this year is a combination of my grandmother’s home and my mother’s home which are a few steps away from each other on the same property. The Bird of Paradise is as tropical a flower as I could find in the cold, white North at Christmas time. The blue and white represent the colors of my original country’s flag and remind me of the ways bodies of water are often depicted blue. The summer before I met my eternal companion, I spent going between my grandmother's home in Las Marias and my great-grandmother's home in San Miguel. I even got to go to the remote volcanic mountains of Chinameca to see my paternal grandmother. I am named Margarita after my dad's mom and I get my love of nature and flora in part from her. She was a funny and gentle soul to me. Back in my village, my favourite thing to do after sketching was to swing on my Mama Rosa's hammock and listen to the river flow by. Mama Rosa is a fiery, no nonsense kind of woman of steel that shaped very much of my personality and perspectives. How I love the women who came before me.

Back to my wreath.

The evergreen boughs represent all the beauty that my husband grew up with. He has taught our children how to appreciate the beautiful forests that he and I grew up with. They represent for me all the lovely customs that we have created as a family and the fusion of cultures we are blessed to have in Canada.

And even though I originally felt the colors were out of place on this wreath, and even though I felt nervous by how “odd” it may look to some, I simply enjoyed putting it together, remembering my homeland and feeling gratitude for where we are now.

I was amused when I recently participated in a service project and a person came up to the group I was with and demonstrated what I perceived as an unconscious bias against me. She began to interact with my children and ignored my multiple attempts to make eye contact and my welcoming smile. She didn’t introduce herself until my oldest child mentioned that I was the person who would know the answer to the questions she was asking. Looking surprised that I was a member of the family, and not just a random Latina hovering around a Caucasian looking 4-year-old tornado, she excluded some of us.

Quickly this lady took a picture of the group and made sure the messy part of the group (my youngest and I) and one of our friends were not in it. It was a lovely picture, very tidy. But it did not reflect the truth of that day or include 3 very important people to all who were featured in the photo. I don’t know her reasons but I know she meant no harm. It likely just looked better. 

Here are some times I have allowed myself to feel out of place.

·       When people ask me “are those your children”. Once, when the twins were babies, I had just finished nursing Aven when a woman approached me to ask if the girls were my babies. I felt like saying, ”No, I just go around randomly breastfeeding babies I find.” But instead, I controlled my temper and smiled and nodded yes.

·       When I am the only one dancing to Latin music. Although the children are very much a fusion of two cultures and Aaron is very much invested in sharing and teaching both cultures in our home, often the children prefer the easier to speak English to the harder to speak Spanish. Understandably so, as it is my own fault for speaking more English than Spanish to them in the formative years.

·       When my Christian friends judge my liberal, left-leaning philosophies. Some Christians think that God loves and accepts only conservative minded people. This is not true. God loves all people and while he has certain leaders who will help him and Jesus judge humanity, we regular folk should not judge. We should not believe others who have different perspectives than us are less worthy or less faithful. If we all believed the same things, life would be boring and unrealistic.

·       When my siblings wait until I round them up to stay connected. I love my siblings. There is a good chance that I have the best siblings in the world. Each in their own way has saved me on more than one occasion. Each is uniquely talented and holds a particularly important role in the sibling hierarchy. There is the first born go- getter who is an Alpha powerhouse that ALWAYS lands on her feet. She has taken the hardest roles for a first born and excelled in them. Her compassion, generosity and emotional intelligence are some of my favorite things about her. Then the quiet and reserved only male who grew up possibly isolated but with more freedoms and perks than his female siblings. I trust him with my life. He lives his faith with exactitude. An amazing example of what an honest man looks like, he is a blessing to me and to his beautiful family. My youngest, my baby sister whose talent is only matched by the purity of her heart. This child that I mostly raised and whose challenges are likely the result of having had me as preteen and teen be her primary caregiver, still she shines onward with such a bright light that leads and inspires.These guys are self-sustaining, self-reliant. They don’t seem to need me the way I need them. They love me but they are not needy like me. (I want to add here that I sent my siblings this piece before publishing to get their opinion. Each expressed encouraging words and shared their thoughts)

When I was medically evacuated out of Ft McMurray when the twins almost came early at 33 weeks. My brother drove from BC to Alberta to comfort me, make me laugh and strengthen Aaron and I.

The time my sister Yancy treated my younger sister Emery and I to a relaxing weekend away in Whistler, BC.

I hope you noticed that I said, I allow myself to feel out of place. The reason I own this is because I do have a bit of wisdom after so much hardship and I know that others can only make us feel what we allow them to make us feel.

After giving myself space to feel out of place, I sometimes indulge in a super fun pity party. Timed, mind you. I learned that in my therapy sessions after one of my children’s births. My amazing counselor suggested I give myself a place to feel uncomfortable truths, and then I allow those uncomfortable feelings to leave my being the way that they came in. I developed several strategies that allowed the negative to flow away from me. It isn’t an exact science, but I am always finding new ways to fight my demons.

Conclusion:

So, what is moral of this story?

Choosing and placing the colors you see on my wreath, and the house that is mediocrely yet lovingly painted on it, allowed me to create a space to explore my repressed feelings. I have enjoyed placing uncommonly (at least by me) used colors on an evergreen wreath. Like me, they may seem a bit out of place to some. But seeming out of place hasn’t stopped me so far. And if you know my character, you know it won’t stop me. There will always be those who prefer a tidy picture with all the “right” colors instead of the beauty of diverse colors and a messier truer image. The way we treat others, especially those that seem out of place is a reflection of who we are.

Through those windows, I inch my resentment forward to be enveloped into the beauty of this wonderful world we live in. I will not lie and say I don’t have negative feelings, and everything is just fine. It isn’t. It likely won’t be for a long time, if at all. The life changing things I have survived, our family has survived, may be with us always. But I am comforted in the fact that I have never been truly alone because I have always had the strength of my faith in God, an eternal plan, Jesus my Saviour, my family, extended family, and the friends who feel like family.

This year has provided unprecedented experiences for so many people. Many of us who never experienced a loss of freedoms, have now had an opportunity to feel powerless. There have been issues with the COVID-19 pandemic that experts cannot explain and may not know the answers to for a long time. There have been changes to the way we interact with each other and disruptions to daily living. It seems very appropriate that many have felt like me out of place in some way. My hope is that more if not all of us will use the challenges of this year to grow in some area of our lives. To improve on something, to reach out safely to those that are often forgotten or overlooked. Anyone who might feel out of place. So with these thoughts, I am happy to share my Tropical Christmas Wreath this year. Merry Christmas 2020!!!

Find out more about my husband's industrious nature, check out his new business: Cadenza Group of Companies.

The last time we were together as complete sibling group with our families was in 2017.

My first born daughter's depiction of matriarchs.

A precious and rare photo of 5 generations. From left to right: My mom- Noemi, my great-grandmother- Mercedes, my grandmother- Rosa, me and Gigi my first born daughter.

Here I am cross promoting. Check out these sites:

https://www.facebook.com/MiCasaGiftsandDesigns

https://www.facebook.com/MusterPointMemes

http://cadenzagroup.ca/

https://www.facebook.com/cadenzagroup.ca

NUNCHAKUS vs. NERVE: A Wannabe's Detour To Face Injustice

The kid and I lived to see grad day and beyond.

Background

There is an event that happened in my youth that has stood out for me all these years. I grew up in East Vancouver and went to Tupper High School. At the time I did not know the term diversity, but looking back I can say we were a diverse population of students. I was unaware of how poor my family was money wise, until one time that I invited my friends over for a birthday “party” and seeing my tiny cake, one of my friends refused to have any. It was then that I began looking around and noticed that many of my friends’ families owned the homes they lived in. It had not occurred to me that our family always renting a suite had to do with my parent’s inability to be approved for a mortgage.

There was a blend of students at the school and I could see that along with a variety of groups with diverse value systems, there were also gangs, drugs and underage sex. I was blessed to have several groups of friends who were wonderful and kind and many of them knew what they wanted to study in post secondary. Then there were some like me who did not have a clue. I was so clueless, I thought that my parents would be able to pay for me get a higher education and I was put out when I discovered I was on my own. I am grateful I had friends who talked about college and university, nemeses who seemed to always beat me at grades, sports and student leadership. It was because of them that I found a way to continue learning after high school.  Being active in different clubs and activities at school, meant that I had a range of friends.

Nunchakus Day:

One day there was a crowd gathered outside of my school. I was on my way home when I came upon a kid I knew, surrounded by a bunch of the rugby guys and other students. They were looking on almost gleefully waiting for a couple of uninvited "visitors" with nunchakus get ready to beat on him. My self righteous indignation took over my sensibility and I stepped into the middle of the circle, with this kid. Instead of lingering in the crowd of onlookers, I stepped forward and told the two “visitors” to our school that they would not be beating on this kid that day. They looked around defiantly but also with a bit of nervousness in their eyes. And they completely ignored me and continued to prepare the weapons. It was clear they would not be listening to me. Who would? I was a short and dorky Latina with absolutely no muscles and no defensive training. When they kept getting ready to beat on this kid, the thought entered my mind that it was gonna hurt to get a beating with nunchakus. I thought this because I was committed. I figured if they did not get me then, they might follow me home or come back another day with more guys. 

Anyone who knows how low my pain threshold is knows that preparing myself for a beating would have taken all the courage my little soul could muster. So, I was terrified and probably my fear of getting hit with metal bars jump-started my brain and I told the two guys with weapons to look around. I said something like: 

You two have the rugby team surrounding you! These guys are used to playing hard and are tough. You think they are going to let you come to our school and beat up on one of our students! They are not going to let you take this kid down! 

AND, if they do not stop you, I am going to go and get the principal. So, you can go home…. 

Obviously, not exactly my words because I am so old, I can not remember but it was something like that. 

And you know what, by some miracle, the rugby guys realized the important role they could play in this scenario and they remembered the values they had been taught by their parents and our awesome counselor/rugby sponsor Mr. Patterson. So, the rugby guys then also told the nunchakus wielding fellows to be on their way. Although they were the only ones with weapons, seeing themselves surrounded by a bunch of athletic Greeks, Poles, and Italians who now seemed ready to throw down, they figured they better not try to fight the rugby team. The "visitors" left instead. Those of us in the circle lived to see another day.

Some of the Rugby guys

I turned to look at this kid, who was my friend, waiting for a hug or a thank you or a happy nod. Nope, nothing happened. He seemed to look at me with some irritation and maybe a hint of disgust on his face. Not perturbed by his reaction, I realized he might not have been a feminist and may not have appreciated a girl “coming to the rescue”, or at least a girl "volun-telling" the rugby team to help. The other thought that crossed my mind was that maybe he could have taken those two down. He likely could have taken two of them on, he is talented. I just did not want to be part of the onlookers watching two guys with weapons beating on an unarmed youth for no reason. I also could not just walk past and go merrily on my way to the safety of my home. The choice to look away or just look on without stopping an injustice would have haunted me later.

Today:

I have attempted to share my experience with violence and injustice in a lighthearted way. However, this was a pivotal, truly perspective changing afternoon for me. I recognize that for so many in the world, violence and injustice are part of everyday life.

Why has this memory come back into my mind? Because I am tired, I am weary of seeing the news where people in a position of power are taking advantage of that power to intimidate, hurt and even kill. There is no excuse for the violence. 

I am repulsed by the actions taken so often by people with power to inflict pain and violence to so many people of color. Like African Americans, my people are targeted simply because of the way that we look! We cannot change the color of our skin! And even when injustice occurs to the white people, it is still not okay. IT DOESN’T MATTER WHAT YOU LOOK LIKE, WHO YOU ARE, WHERE YOUR FAMILY ORIGINATES FROM, WHAT YOUR FAITH IS or WHO YOU LOVE, there is no excuse for brutality in our society in 2020! Period.

I am not advocating for all of us to take the law into our own hands or for us to put ourselves in harms way. Clearly, my decision to step in, would have had disastrous repercussions for myself and my future if things had gone a little differently.

I AM advocating for people to step up. ESPECIALLY those with power or influence or who do not belong to a marginalized group. USE your privilege and do something good! Do not be a by-stander or a passerby or worse, the kind of soul that is entertained by witnessing the pain of others! Anytime that you can help, DO IT!

Woman up!