Tuesday, April 12, 2011

There Was Sorrow, There Was Dancing

In the time of my life, the title of this entry is true. If there was sorrow in your heart, dancing would cure it.

We didn't have much during our first year in Arizona. We pretty much only had each other, a rocking boom box and music. We gained confidence when we danced salsa, cumbias and merengue. We felt feminine and empowered. My sisters and I weren't the greatest of dancers but my mom sure made us feel like we were. I remember those muggy Arizona nights when we would turn on the music and open up the windows and dance into the wee hours of the night. Have you ever really felt music and get lost in it by dancing? If your answer is no, then I recommend that you try until you do.

The songs we listened and danced to were about life, redemption, loved lost and found strength. I'm sure all people hear are horns and drums but there were some very inspiring words in there too. It took me a long time to realize how sad some of the songs were because they were masked with great melodies. It didn't cost us anything to dance and I appreciate the genuine quality time that we shared as a family. It was a fun thing to do that took our minds off of thinking about the things we didn't have. My mom could be behind on bills but when she dances, its as if nothing affects her. She's untouchable; immortal on the dance floor. She is the best dancer in our family. I bet she's had to dance the most sorrow out of her life.

Shortly after I had my daughter, we were all at my gramma's house just hanging out. My sister drove in from out of town to see the new baby. As the night pressed on the music started and we danced. I was almost brought to tears because the last time we had all danced together was all those years ago, in our too small house, dancing to rid our minds of our trials and tribulations. Yet, here we all were, all grown up and my mom was dancing, now just for the fun of it.

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Reaching Towards the Sunshine

I am not a plant person.

I have what people may call a black thumb; meaning I am the murderer of plants. You know when you have a dying plant and these little white bugs start to fly around the deteriorating plant? My plant doesn't get the chance to live long enough to develop the tiny white flies.

As I perused the dollar section of Target a few weeks ago, I came across a little tomato planting pot. It came with seeds and pellets and it said right on the
package "guaranteed to sprout." It was only a dollar so I bought it because tomatoes are so darn pricey.

Last week I found the little pot I bought as I was clearing space from my craft table. I crushed the pellets and planted the tiny tomato seeds. I gave it water and then forgot about it until Monday. I looked at this tiny pot and there were sprouts! I watered it and pushed it a little closer to the windowsill.

As I cleaned up my kitchen last night, I pulled my curtains closed and before I went to bed I decided to take a picture of my plant so I can chart it's progress.

I noticed that the sprouts were tall and looking very full of life. I am completely pleased.

This morning, I opened up my kitchen window and scooted my little plant as close as I could to the daylight. This afternoon I noticed something about my little plant.

As you can see, the sprouts are reaching towards the sunshine. Now, I took basic biology in junior high and I know that plants will do this to get the most nutrients necessary from the sun for photosynthesis...yadda yadda yadda. So I wasn't blown away by this alone, but for some reason, I came across a deeper understanding of what is needed in life for a long, full life.

I started with a question.

Is there something I'm willing to stretch and grow towards that will give me nutrients for life? How much time do I stretch for? At the end of my day do I stand tall and decide to do it again tomorrow?

There were times which I kind of felt like my faith was like this tiny tomato plant kit. My faith was waiting on a shelf, hoping someone would come along and start to nurture it. My faith was picked up with hopes of planting a seed but then left in some clutter. Then, after a long time, seeds were planted. I fed and watered my faith and slowly my love and testimony grew in small tiny steps. To live my daily life happily, I stretch and reach towards the keeping true to what I believe in. I've known that by following the covenants I made when I was baptized I would be a happier person but to realize that I am a better self by observing this little tomato plant is mind-boggling. I don't know if this little plant is going to sprout beautiful tomatoes but I know that if I nurture it along with nurturing myself, I have nothing to worry about.