The Elizabeth

This post might come as a surprise from someone whose recent posts talk of great years and amazing memories. Yes, that's all very true. BUT (you all knew this "but" will come) not all of my days are like that. Not everything in my life is perfect. Not everything in my heart is in its rightful place. I choose to count my blessings and focus on all the wonders God makes in my life but I do suffer. I do feel pain. I am brokenhearted and it's not easy to live with. I face things to. I battle them. And I lose. BIG TIME. But through all of that God is blessing me with the grace to see His love above all and be happy in my life as is. And no, I don't like talking about it, I choose not to talk about it, and especially not to anyone. So, as the new year unfolded I experienced some gloomy days. I just felt sad for all the things I lost, the people who weren't in my life, the memories I couldn't relive, the new ones I couldn't make. You know, just one of those moments when you start eating a lot of sweets and watching TV shows. And as I made my way through this I had colleagues tell me I was "sour" and I had to smile and nod through their "well intentions" just because I didn't know what to say. I do pour my heart out in this blog, but if you ever met me, you're either one of those few who know what's in my heart or you're in the group who can't say much more about me than the fact that I drink a lot of coffee, tend to be very arrogant and sarcastic and have the language of a sailor. I just don't answer "How you're doing?" with "I'm falling apart, eating my feelings, missing my loved ones and I basically have no wish to leave my house." - you know, I say "I'm fine, doing my job, taking every day as it comes, nothing much."
As I lived through these past few days I was a bit disappointed with myself. I had a plan of how I wanted to spend my next weekend, I had quite some hopes gathered up, but God stepped in and changed the plan. And that was alright. But however well we learn to navigate this life doing God's will, getting our hopes up for things which aren't meant for us seems to be in our nature. So a part of me was disappointed and sad. Very sad. All I could think about was how this isn't what I had planned and I kept imagining how things could have been if I would've done what I intended to. And I was disappointed with myself. I started to wonder where the girl who was happy with her life and God's doing went? Why couldn't I be happy with the new situation and let go of my silly dreams? Why couldn't I remember how content and peaceful I was just a few days back? And I prayed to God that He would help me get that feeling back. And then something unexpected happened: a simple, unplanned walk with a sister in faith. We hardly ever have time to just walk and talk. But this time we did. And she listened. She listened to as much as I was willing to tell and she didn't interrogate me. She didn't say anything out of the ordinary. She didn't try to fix me or change the way I felt. And just letting some things off my chest was so good for me! As I started talking to her I remembered I was happy with my life. I felt peaceful again. I didn't feel the need to change anything, not even the things which hurt me and make me sad. I accepted them as part of my story. And feeling this great relief and this weight being taken off my chest I realized something: she was my Elizabeth.
You see, when Mary was told by the Angel she was pregnant with Baby Jesus (though she had never been with a man), he also told her about Elizabeth, her cousin, who was also pregnant in her old age. And Mary must have been very frightened at that time, because probably no one was going to believe her and she could've been stoned in the street for it. So Mary left to visit her cousin Elizabeth, hoping that what the Angel told her was true, and that through that she would gain more confidence and clarity. And when Elizabeth saw her, she knew, without Mary saying a word. She knew and she understood. And just being with her and having someone validate her story I think gave Mary a lot of faith and confidence. So this sister of mine was my Elizabeth. And I can only hope I can be that Elizabeth for someone else. And I hope that if you go through something you can't really speak of, or if you feel like no one understands you or validates your story, I hope you find your Elizabeth. I hope you keep your eyes and your heart open for those people you might not expect but who can give you so much peace and courage. I hope you walk all days of your life with courage and faith and you always find that person that helps you re-put everything into perspective.

P.S. Dear Elizabeth, thank you! I am blessed to have had you that day. :)

Haggadah 2017

2017 has been the best year of my life. No doubt in that. And I have nothing in my heart but the greatest gratitude towards the Lord. It’s been amazing, beyond anything I dreamed of. I traveled so much and had my heart filled with so many beautiful emotions. It was miraculous and I want to do this traditional “Haggadah” even though it’s not Easter and recount all the wonders that God has shown to me this year.

BUT

Before we get to that, I want to do a small detour, a short trip down Memory Lane.

You see, last year when I posted my New Year’s Eve picture I wrote something like this: “I beat you, 2016! You broke me, but here I am, standing on my feet!” And some very well-intended friends felt I was being too melodramatic, some people thought I was exaggerated, others began to worry what had happened to me that was so terrible and so on… A special thanks to those who took the time to write and say “Don’t worry, it’s not the end of the journey. This will turn you into your own superhero.”  But to get to the point: sometimes it seems like society doesn’t want to hear about our troubles, our hardships or how broken we get every now and then. We use social media to paint the pretty picture and feel lame to say anything different from that when we stop feeling so perfect and amazing. But this past year I learned I have the right to tell my story when I feel it’s time or to not say it at all if it doesn’t feel right. It was a harder lesson than it seems.

Last December (2016) I had my major breakdown. I got to a point where I was tired beyond logic, incapable of waking up to go to my second job, frustrated with everyone around me and depressed. And when it came to say that, I just couldn’t. Because it wasn’t logical. I didn’t know why I was so tired. I didn’t know why I was failing. I didn’t know why everything was falling apart, much less how it could be fixed. So I tried to work my way around it. I tried to make excuses. And I ended up disappointing some people I had worked very hard to earning their respect and prove I wasn’t just shit. And guess what? When my breakdown happened, someone made sure I remembered I was shit. And failing like that and breaking down was very hard to accept. It was brutal. I couldn’t understand how after so many years of trying to please everybody and having it all under control and being able to work myself into exhaustion I was breaking down. I had to give up everything and stop because I couldn’t do it anymore. Of course, the next thing that followed was a deep spiritual crisis. January 2017 was the only time in my life I had seriously considered leaving my Church community because I couldn’t bear the weight of my sins, my deceptions, my broken heart and identity. And God knows that community is my life! That’s probably why after 2 months of trials and tribulations, on the 22^nd of March (one of the most symbolic dates in my recent history) me and God finally got back to each other and decided to hop on this crazy roller-coaster together. BEST DECISION EVER.

What I want to say through this detour is that it’s ok to say we are broken. It’s more than ok. It’s healthy. It’s necessary. It’s helpful. It’s irrelevant if other people have it harder than us. We are not in this life to compare the depths of the shit we’re in. The important thing is to get through it and find support. Be it in God, family, friends, loved ones or tourists we meet in hostels. It’s important to share our burdens, acknowledge our hardships, our problems and our hard times, and also, like I’m about to do, count our blessings. Yes, it’s been hard. I’ve been through a lot. A lot more than I’m willing to talk about. I lost people I still can’t go a day without thinking about. I’ve lost battles I didn’t know I was going to fight. I had to reshape my entire life and identity. I’ve lost that one too. I lost my faith and my connection with God. I’ve lost the desire to please everyone. I gained peace. I gained a vocation. I gained tranquility and happiness in solitude. And I am very thankful for every step of the way. After the hardest year of my life came the best one. I am living proof that however bad things seem right now, however broken or sad, with just a tiny ounce of faith and just the right amount of letting go, life can turn around in miraculous ways. So here they are, some of my favorite moments with God from this amazing year:  

• Looking at this amazing Christmas tree and remembering from whom all these ornaments came from: family, friends, charity or the year when I myself bought some of them.
• Baking Christmas cookies and sharing them with others and seeing the joy on their faces
• Finally sticking to my Advent Calendar :) (it was about time!)
• Attending a George Balanchine ballet!
• Travelling alone and feeling His presence always with me
• AVISHAI COHEN! - my comfort, my soothing go-to artist: an incredible concert and that amazing picture together!
• Being a christian missionary for a week: the people we met, the silent moments of prayer, that hour we spent together in the garden under the apple trees, the way in which He provided for us every step of the journey
• Surviving Vienna.
• Writing my story in many beautiful places and having the courage to upload it on the blog.
• The trips to Cluj, where I've experienced everything: I've been happy, sad, tired, excited, bleeding, laughing with friends or completely alone, listening to concerts that changed my life and trying to figure out that life. Cluj was God's gift to me for which I had asked with desperate prayers!
• Israel: the home of my spirit :) I have to specially mention our trip up on the deserted hill and all the thoughts and conversations we had for 2-3 very long hours of walking through thistles; the small cheap hostel in Tiberias and the beautiful plantations down the roads
• All the postcards I wrote, some sent, some not, which helped me realize so many things about myself, my heart and my life.
• Bartok, Gustav, Enescu, Wagner, Ceaikovski - the concerts that filled my heart.
• Anca and Ana - the 2 As that keep me on track and turn any frown on my face upside down :)
• The kids I work with, the many things I learned about disabilities and autism, the people who take the time to teach me.
• The good food, good coffee and great friends to share it with
• The lovely home we created together and the silent moments we spend praying together
• The peace He gave me in the hard times, the happiness He made possible in every small thing
• The many beautiful moments with my parents, the fantastic relationship we have
• The fact that He listened to all my prayers and made me understand His answers 
• The fact that we now have an everyday relationship which led to countless memories and blessings which would make this post unbelievably long.
• Last but not least, the courage to write my mind and speak my voice when I feel it's right and the wisdom to know when it isn't.

I am more than thankful for this unbelievable year and I can only hope for a 2018 just as great! Thank you to each and every one of you who take the time to read my blog, you're not just a number to me, my heart rejoices for every view (that's all I get, the number of views, haha) and I can only hope that you enjoy these posts and pray that all of you find what your heart is looking for and are "completely and perfectly and incandescently happy" in all that life has to offer! Happy New Year and thank you for being the small number that brings me great joy! 

The Story of Almah - 6th Chapter

Not far from Almah's home there was a hill. On its top there was a bench facing South and from there Almah could see her Father's Kingdom stretching in the sunlight. Many times she would go there to think and be alone with her thoughts. After a couple of months away from home she went there. The snow had melted and one could see the grass trying to make its way through the earth and into the light. Almah's mind was voided. "Come home" said a familiar voice. J snuck behind her and was circling the bench to come sit beside her. "Come home. I miss you and I know you miss Me. We've always been together. Never in your life have you gone two months without talking to Me. Please, come home." Almah laid her head on her brother's chest. She did want to go home. These two months were necessary and helpful but she missed her family. Any thought she would have, she was used to running it by J. There was nothing He didn't know about her and His presence alone was the most comforting thing in the world. It was impossibly hard to live without Him, she felt horribly incomplete. "You coming home?" He insisted. "Of course I am." she said. "Promise never to go away again? It would break My heart, you know..." - "I promise. But I want to talk to Father. I have complaints to make about my upbringing." - "Complaints? Really?" - "Yes, really. What is this thing that I grew up dreaming of a family of my own, obsessing over finding a husband and getting married and having children? Do you find that normal? Do you have any idea how hard it is to find someone, in this Kingdom or outside of it? It's excruciating. People are losing their minds trying to find their soulmate. They get together and compromise to the point where they forget who they are and then they break up and drink their minds away, or get married but then are faced with the hardships of life and the diminishing of love and the absence of care and they get divorced and feel pressured to start it all over again. It's incredibly hard. It breaks my heart to see it happen to others, let alone to have it happen to me. Happy families and marriages are a miracle. They truly are. And they should be treated that way. We should be taught that finding a soulmate and living a blessed life together is a miracle and it's based on faith and loyalty and not just affectionate love, but true love, authentic love, self-giving and self-sacrificing love. And we should be taught to be whole by ourselves. To be contempt with who we are on our own. To be happy on our own. To cherish our lives and have a vocation. A meaning that is enough for us even if we may never find someone to share it with." Almah was barely catching a breath while delivering this speech. J looked at her with His big brown eyes. "I'm sure Father would tell you that He's been trying to teach you that your entire life." He said. "Well, I didn't get it. I didn't get it until now and it's been a very very hard lesson to learn. And most parts of it hurt." - "Al, the greatest lessons we get in life hurt." - "Fabulous world we live in, love. Fabulous world." J laughed. "You're still sarcastic... which means you're fine. Oh, and you better put that ring back on. A promise is a promise. We're in this together and no matter where you go or how you break your word, My word stays. So keep that ring on your finger." - "Will do, big brother, will do."

"It's good to have you home." A gentle voice was heard while Almah was roaming around a still garden with shy shades of green making their way out of the Winter. "I wanted to speak with You, Father." she said. "I know, I heard of your speech." He replied. "Come, sit with Me." They sat on a wide cold stone bench around which little white flowers were dropping dew on the earth. "You know," Almah started, "sometimes when I'm out there it feels as if everyone's having it better than me. Everyone in my circle, you know. More talented, more skinny, more beautiful, much more respected and admired, wanted by everyone around them, all of that. It feels like I'm stuck being the sidekick in the corner, never fully regarded or looked up on. And standing there it makes me feel like I haven't got much. I'm not very talented, not very successful, pretty much average in everything, just an anonymous, little weird and socially awkward virgin." Her Father chuckled. "I hate going out there and looking like I ain't got much. Like I'm not really worth much. I have all this. I am a princess. I'm just not a very shiny one." - "Almah, this Kingdom will never appear as a fabulous Instagram story that the world will die for. In fact, it's pretty much us dying for the world. That's how it goes around here." - "I just don't understand why I still feel this way. How did I turn out like this? Where did we go wrong, Father?" - "Wrong? You think we went wrong somewhere?" - "Well, it must be. I mean, I'm not cut out for the world, yet I struggle to be a good daughter to You too. I'm constantly fighting my feelings and desires because they rarely match Yours and sooner rather than later we always end up fighting and I end up feeling like I did everything wrong my entire life." - "Almah." - "What do You see when You look at me, Father?" - "I see my daughter. I see that I've made you good. I did nothing wrong, Almah, I never do, in fact. Everything is as it should be." - "I want to ask You something." Almah said with a breaking voice. "Send me somewhere. Send me somewhere to work for You. I need it, Father. I need to start doing something worthy of this Kingdom and inheritance. I need to start focusing on You and us and our home. I want to." - "Where do you want to go?" - "Somewhere warm and where they speak Spanish." - "So Finland, then." Almah laughed. "I'll think about it. When the time's right." He said. "Whatever that means..." - "Almah..." - "Well, Father, we have different views on time, don't we?" - "You know, I remember this Christmas when you told Melchior you were missing perspective. You were right." her Father said with a hint of a smile. "Thanks, that's great to hear. Really." Almah replied with a frown. "I'm happy you're willing to go." her Father added. "I'm happy too. I'm happy to be home, first. And just so You know, deep inside I also think You did everything perfect. I just get distracted sometimes... most of the times. But I know You make everything good. I count on it. I count on You for everything." - "So you should." Her Father concluded with a smile.

The Story of Almah - 5th Chapter

The night was cold and Almah's hand was freezing on her cigarette. Warm tears were leaving soft marks on her cheeks. She stood silent for a while, trying to gather her thoughts. Through all the fog in her mind things were starting to catch shape and contour and slowly she could see them more clearly. She felt there was only one way out, and that was out of everything. She couldn't go on like this. Melchior, as always, was right. She was divided and she needed to get herself back together. This could not go on. She was bringing shame to her Kingdom, disappointing her Father and using Joe as a tool for her affectionate needs. It was too much. Her heart grew heavy thinking about what she had to do, or more accurate, what she wanted to do. Leaving everything behind seemed so radical and painful. She had never in her life considered leaving her Kingdom. Who was she outside of it? But the same could be asked about who she was inside of it. Her sense of identity was completely lost. Nothing from her history made sense anymore. It was all just a big whirl of neediness and confusion and mixed feelings and false hope and desperate love and it felt suffocating. How would she ever get out of it?
"Father?" she said, focusing her eyes on the dark night. "I'm here, Almah." her Father's voice sounded calm and soothing. "So Joe's out?" He asked. "Yeah. It has to be. It's not love. It's a need for companionship and affection but it's not love. And it's not going anywhere, but You know that." - "I do" He replied. "But it's still up to you. I never forced you into anything." - "I know. But even I know this is the right thing to do." Her Father put His hand around her shoulders. "I have to go." she added. "Are you sure?" He asked her. "I can't do this anymore. I have to realize who I am. Who I want to be. And when I come back, I want to truly be here. Be more worthy. More aware. This is not how being Your daughter is done. I am failing You. I am a failure. I screw up. That's the truth, Father. I'm a screw-up. And it's not the kind of daughter that I want to be. If I live in Your Kingdom and call myself Your daughter, I should behave like one. And I'm not. And You know that. I can't keep failing You. I have to leave." Her Father looked her in the eyes with deep love and a sense of compassion. He needn't say anything. "I do love You, Father." ... "You know," he finally said, "every time we would get to a point where we would disagree and you, as you have all your life, would feel like you want to walk out and leave, you would always ask me one thing: Don't let me go." Almah looked into her Father's eyes: "I know. I remember. That's why I have to ask you now: let me go. I beg You, let me go. I need to go." - "You can go, Almah. You are free. But we will miss you. This is your home, this is where you belong. Yet you are free. I let you go."
Almah turned from her Father with a broken heart and left. She didn't want to face J., she simply couldn't. She took her ring out, the one they had bought together, the one that symbolized that they would always be beside each other and their bond would always come first, and put it in a safe place. Until she would return home (and deep in her heart Almah wanted to return home) she couldn't wear that ring. By leaving she had broken that promise and she would put it back on once she would make a new and lasting promise to her brother.
"You let her go?" J. stormed to His Father. "She's free." He answered. "She's dumb!" J. shouted. "She's gonna get hurt!". And J had tears in His eyes. "You can watch over her from a distance. But let her experience what she must. Trust her. I gave her all she needs. She'll figure it out when it is time."

The Story of Almah - 4th Chapter

4th Chapter

Almah rushed into her home, trying to organize herself as quickly as possible. While at it, she briefly texted J I'm sorry I got in so late, I have to run now, Dominic's mother is in town, they want me to join them for a walk. We'll catch up later. Dominic was sort of Almah's friend, with the only mention that his associate, Jack, was a jackass. Sorry, that's what Almah would say. I'll formulate it again. Dominic's associate, Jack, was the only man in the Kingdom who managed to conquer and then break Almah's heart. All others were from outside the Kingdom, so Almah found in herself the excuse and the power to forgive them. But as much as she tried, she could never forgive Jack. Sometimes she thought she did, but other times, it was just so obvious that she didn't. Jack was a great guy. He had a lot of fire. And a lot of blood. He drove Almah really mad and crazy, he pissed her off half of the time. But the other half, he supported her and understood her. He made her feel special in her own way and appreciated for who she was. And she hated him for it, because he was never supposed to make her feel that way if he wasn't going to stay with her on this journey. So Almah had to meet him, while her relationship with Joe was on the rocks and her mind as foggy as a cold December evening.
"We heard you have a boyfriend" Dominic's mother said. "Yes, I do", Almah said with a forced smile. She hated talking about Joe to people from the Kingdom, for they always inquired about Joe's intentions. "He's not in the Kingdom, is he?"- Great! The questions continued as Almah's anxiety was already to a boiling point. "No, he's not" she replied. "Hmmm, that will be very difficult" his mother continued, "but then again, a woman has a lot of power." - "Yes, but this one is kind of dumb" Dominic interfered on a joking tone, which, with all the love in the world, made Almah feel like shit. She knew very well Dominic was right, just as she knew she did not have the power of which his mother was talking. But while she had no idea how long will she remain with Joe and this torturing uncertainty was driving her nuts, this conversation was the worst. And that Xanax pill (a whole one, this time) did not wait for long. Jack seemingly added "You women can make a man suffer very easily. You just tell him, whether you're in or you're in." Right. Like that ever worked for Almah. The main reason all these conversations were so painful for Almah was that she always felt none of this was her choice. She didn't choose a man outside her Kingdom on purpose, he was the only one to want her. And when she did choose a man from her Kingdom he became her greatest disappointment, leading to a year of anguish and disorientation. She didn't choose for Joe to be completely against her Kingdom and her Father. She didn't choose to be neither a rebel and a failure, neither a princess. It all happened to her, and the only thing that was her choice was not fighting it. Because she couldn't. She couldn't fight it anymore. She wanted Jack. She wanted someone like Jack, at least. Someone in the Kingdom, who would stand by her side in all matters. It was so easy for people to presume things went smoothly for Almah outside her Kingdom. Or that it would be just so easy to give everything up and live outside. Or just as easy give Joe an ultimatum and tell him that if he wanted Almah he had to follow her. Or keep a "by the Book" relationship with Joe. Yeah, people talked like all these decisions were a piece of cake. Maybe for others they were, but not for Almah. And now she was pissed. Very pissed. She bared the 2 hours walk and then head straight for Joe's house. She was sorry she didn't defend their relationship better, but how could she when she herself didn't believe in it anymore? She needed so bad to hear those stupid I love you or at least You're precious to me or You're valuable to me words but these never came. She would question herself every night she spent in his house. She would also feel so drawn to him. She was so divided, just like Melchior said, that it felt like it was going to kill her eventually. And this meeting with Dominic and Jack had been a terrible idea. And because no bad day could end well, after a lovely dinner with some friends, Joe had fallen back into his bad mood, leaving Almah with no conversation and therefore no other choice than to get into her mind and analyze this awful day. But she couldn't do it alone.

The Story of Almah - Daughter of The King, Chapters 2 and 3

2^nd Chapter

“Still here?” J asked on a friendly tone. “Nah… again here.” Almah replied. “How come You only come to me when I’m doing laundry?” she asked. “Your mind is more clear. And you pay more attention to me. I don’t know… laundry makes you think better, so I prefer to come to you in moments like these. So things got better, huh? You melted Grinch’s heart?” – “I don’t know if I melt it, but yes, things are better.” Almah said with a smile. “Yet you’re still concerned.” J added. “I’m iffy.” – “Is that even a word?” – “Actually it is… I’m having mixed feelings. I’m happy things are good with Joe, but that doesn’t mean they are right.” – “You’ll figure it out when the time comes. Just remember, my birthday is still about Me.” J concluded with a smile and kissing her forehead like always, left.

Almah was the youngest and wildest sister of J. She did not choose to be a princess. She was born one, but there was something in her personality that made her rebel against this faith very often. She lived in the happiest Kingdom of all and her Father was the best and most powerful King, but even though He wished all people would live in His Kingdom He would never force anyone. That meant that the only way for the Kingdom to expand was by sharing the experience of its inhabitants with the rest of the world. And Almah had been born to do that. It was her mission to let the world know that the best place to be was in the Kingdom. And although she believed it with all her heart, accomplishing that mission was something she felt she was failing to do.

“Come, let’s take a walk.” Said a familiar voice. “Coffee?” – “Always” Almah replied taking the paper cup from her companion’s hand. “So, how are your preparations going?” – “Behind schedule, of course.” – “What’s missing?” – “My perspective?” – “Ha ha ha… well, only you could know that.” – “I got your first two letters yesterday, you know.” – “Oh, cool. Kids still asking for a bunch of Noriel stuff to increase your anxiety?” – “Not these ones, you’ll enjoy these, they have drawings.” And taking two letters out of her purse, Almah gave them to him. “Remember what I told you last year?” – “Yeah…” – “Did you do that?” – “Melchior…” – “I’m serious. I was serious last year too.” – “I know.” – “So?” – “So I didn’t find what I was searching for, but I managed to lose what I thought I had, too.” – “Good.” – “Good?” – “Good. Losing what you thought you had is the first step to finding what you need to find.” Almah stared into Melchior’s eyes, her old wise friend. “You’re going out again, right?” – “Yes.” Almah said on a serious tone. “Be careful. Compromise in faith is never good. Yes, I know, people will say we are fanatics. But it’s not about that. Compromise in faith makes you crippled, divided. You have one foot here and the other one outside. You coming and going in and out of your home would be nothing bad, if your heart would not be divided. But your heart is divided. I can hear it break inside of you right now. I see how your eyes are tired and your mind is tired, because you cannot make your own mind - it’s tossing and turning caught between two worlds. You want to be happy, but you also have to stay true to your identity. And, like it or not, you’re a princess. You were born to be a messenger to your Father, to this Kingdom. You tried many times to escape this, but this is who you are. And going out there and denying yourself, that’s what’s breaking you.” – “I’m sorry, where’s Balthazar? He gave me pistachios.” Almah asked while trying to smile. “Everybody here wants what’s best for you, Almah. And even if it doesn’t seem like it, we do want you to be happy. All of us. And especially Your Father.” – “I know. But I still feel stuck.” – “I’m afraid you’ll be feeling like that for a while. You’ll be feeling like that until you figure out deep inside of you what you want and make a decision. The right decision will make you free.” Almah nodded but was incapable of saying anything. “Be good if you can.” Melchior added.

Almah headed outside. The Kingdom didn’t have clear borders. And it didn’t have any fences. It was open for everyone to come in and out as they wished. Some lived right at the joining point between the Kingdom and the rest of the world. Some lived in the man’s land, but very close to the Kingdom. And some, like Joe, lived a bit further away. Joe was a good man, a righteous man, one that sought justice and peace. He had a big heart, and like all men with a big heart, he was disappointed by something and he never talked about it. He was intelligent, and like all smart men, he was skeptical about the Kingdom. For intelligent men don’t want to listen to somebody else, even more so, they don’t want to listen to a King. Almah had to stray far from her home to meet him, passing through all sorts of areas. Usually, she would leave her true identity behind and go as one of the travelers. Some knew who Almah was, some always wondered. Almah, herself, always wondered. She felt good in the world. She connected to so many different people and she loved all of them. But as she was walking the long distance to Joe’s house she would always wonder if she could ever get used to living so far away from her home. If she could ever settle for not being who she was meant to be. If she could ever forgive herself for giving up her heritage. All these thoughts roamed around her mind. She liked the world. She loved Joe. She loved his house. But a still small voice always reminded her that she wasn’t home.

…

“What’cha doin’?” J asked on a cheery tone, appearing out of nowhere behind Almah. “Just because You can resurrect people doesn’t mean You have to scare them to death.” She replied while her heart was pounding. “Haha, good one. What are you baking?” – “Nutellotti.” – “I suppose that means they’re made with Nutella…” – “D’ooh!” – “Sounds good. What’s wrong?” – “I’m behind schedule… I didn’t get everything done yet AND I never know what cake to bake you.” – “I like everything you’re baking, you know that!” – “Yeah, but it’s Your birthday and…” – “You’ve been away for long and you want to make it up to me?” – “Yeah, something like that.” – “Al, relax. The only thing that matters to me is for us to spend this evening together.” – “How are things around there?” Almah asked while her hands were molding small balls from a very brown dough. “You know, same old. I had to prevent Nick from a meltdown.” – “Freaking out over the Santa Clauses?” – “Get a saint with OCD to face one of history’s biggest inaccuracies… How’s Joe?” – “Busy. Cleaning the house, stuff like that.” – “Did you invite him over?” – “You know he wouldn’t come.” – “D’oh, but it’s important that he knows we love him. And we care about him.” – “I don’t think he believes that.” – “Then show him.” – “What?” – “Show him our true nature. Show him that he’s important to us. Al, you’re my favorite sister. I wouldn’t give you to just anybody if I didn’t have a plan, wouldn’t I?” – “What? J…!” But J already turned and left the kitchen. J was just like His Father. He never revealed His plans completely, and most of the times, His plans were very different from what anyone would imagine. Almah continued her baking and her feelings about this Christmas were getting more and more mixed up.

            

3^rd Chapter

Almah was in her room finishing her make-up when she heard a knock on the door. “Come in!” J opened the door and stopped in front of it, measuring Almah. She was wearing a dark blue dress with a small white wool vest. Her hair was falling on her shoulders and you could see a bit of blue around her eyes coming out from behind her glasses. “You look so pretty!” J said. “You think?” – “Always.” He smiled and walked straight to the table where the nutellotti were placed on a tray. “No, no, wait!” Almah shouted behind Him. “What? Don’t tell me you won’t let me eat them until midnight!” – “No, I just need to add a little something” and she went to take something out of her drawer. “Oh, did I tell you I sent some milk and cookies in Nick’s room? Just to tease him…” and they both started laughing. “Poor Nick…” Almah added. “Here!” – she took one of the nutellotti and put a small candle in the middle of it and lit it. She continued while giving J the cookie: “You’re not just my brother. You’re my best friend. My life companion. You’re the one who’s always there for me, whether I’m doing good or complete shit. You never give up on me, no matter how many times I give up on both of us and all this Kingdom. You always loved me. And I love you first, no matter how far from home I ever get. Happy birthday, J!” J took the cookie, blew the candle and gave Almah a hug. “Wanna dance?” He asked and turned on a song. “Fairytale of New York?” Almah asked surprised. “You like this song?” – “No,” J answered. “I find it very offensive, actually, but I know you like it. And it’s good for dancing. We can play roles!” Throughout the song J would ask her “You really like this?” – “Yes, it’s bittersweet. And I’m used to bittersweet Christmases, You know!” – “Haha, ok, I’ll give you that!” – “Thanks!” When the song was finished, J took Almah’s hand and said “Let’s go, or we’ll be late again!” – “Yeah, yeah, I also have to confess before the Mass starts.” Almah added. – “Oh, trust me, I know you have to confess!” J said chuckling. “Merry Christmas, J!” – “Merry Christmas, little dove!”. J

The story of Almah - Daughter of the King

            First Chapter

It was the 22^nd of December and Almah was sitting in the middle of the laundry room. She had just taken her first half of a Xanax pill and tears were streaming down her cheeks. Clothes were scattered all around and the washing machine was waiting suffocated to be emptied. J, her Brother, walked in. “I did not expect to see you here.” He said. “I told You I’d be home for Christmas…” Almah replied without looking Him in the eyes. “Al...” J started while kneeling down beside her. “This is not how it was supposed to be.” Almah said, and her eyes got even fuller with tears. “If anything, I would have never thought you’ll flood the laundry room with tears…” J said. Almah smiled but her crying got even worse. “This is not how it was supposed to be” she said again. J continued on His joking tone: “By now, you should have known that things in this Kingdom don’t go as people planned them. We do have a King.” – “And His first born Son has a very fine sense of humor” she replied. “Al…“ J continued, “every year you try to make this big fuss about my birthday only to get here 3 days before and freak out on everyone for everything that didn’t go according to your plan. I hate to ruin this for you, but My birthday is actually about Me.” This time Almah was really laughing. “Yeah, I figured… but then explain to me, why does everyone feel the need to make such a big masquerade about it when they don’t even have a clue who You are?” – “Why does it bother you they do?” – “It never bothered You?” – “Why would it bother Me? Most of them do good. They try harder. They care about the others. They do nice stuff. They don’t do it for Me, but I’m not jealous like that.” J concluded smiling. “Well, I found Grinch. And trust me, he couldn’t care less about You and apparently about me either.” “Al, you know that ain’t true.” “Ain’t?” Almah repeated with a disapproving tone. “Did you go visit your bros in the Bronx?” she asked while laughing. “That’s all you got?” J replied. “Yeah, well, you’re the Big J.C.” and she put out her tongue. J rolled His eyes, took a deep breath and continued: “I was telling you that what you said IS NOT true. Joe’s a good man, and you know that. But “each shall seek its own kind”. “You’re seriously quoting Fiddler on the roof to me?” Almah asked while taking a pause. But she knew very well what J meant with those words. Each shall seek its own kind. In other words, a bird may love a fish, but where would they build a home together? J got up from the floor and started folding the laundry. “I know you wished for a different Christmas. Last year you wrote me a letter that you’re skipping my birthday.” – “But I changed my mind afterwards…” Almah interfered. “Yes, you did. Though I know you did it more for the Three Kings than for me” J winked. “Shut up.” Almah said with a smile in the corner of her mouth. “Stop interrupting me, I had something to tell you.” J resumed. “You wanted to skip my birthday last year because you were sick of coming alone. This year you hoped you’ll have a perfect Christmas with Joe. But turns out you’re dating Grinch, haha… you gotta love our Father’s humor” J said while turning to see Almah’s reaction. “Yeah, I love it, don’t I?” she said while trying to keep a straight face.” “Al, you know very well that the problem is not that this Christmas is gonna suck for you just like all others. And I can’t believe I’m saying this! The real problem is that you’ve been away from home for too long. You don’t know who you are anymore. You don’t know where you’re going or what you want to do in this world and in this Kingdom. You are not happy. Al, you went out to find your happiness and although you had it for a little while, now it’s gone. And you feel lost. And that’s ok. But if you want to be happy this Christmas you have to trust Me. And you don’t really trust Me, don’t you?” J looked Almah deep in her brown eyes. They had the same eyes. He kissed her forehead and said “I have to go now. I’ll see you later.” And Almah went on with her laundry going over and over the last words J said to her. She didn’t trust Him. Why couldn’t she trust Him?

Me before you.

I've waited 2 months to see Me before you. As in I waited a month for it to appear, and another to have the courage to watch it, because I already knew the ending and I knew it would give me all the feels. First I saw the trailer: a love story between a caretaker and a man with disabilities (after Mozart and the Whale and Adam, I was looking forward to a new production). But then I found an article (SPOILER!!!) that emphasized on how the message sent by this movie might be very wrong for society (the protagonist decides ending his life in favor of living with a disability). Maybe I'm not entitled to talk about it, but I definitely need to. I've met amazing women in love with men with disabilities. I've read their stories, shared their struggles. They are by far the strongest, bravest, most powerful women I've ever met. I've cried for them. I've worried for them. And I've empathized with all of their stories. 
So let me tell you a little something about my own story: I can't put on a red dress and make it all better. I can't put on a green dress, a blue dress, or no dress, for that matter. I can't do anything to make it better - but I did succeed making it worse (but that's a different topic). I don't have to change. I don't have to learn and I don't have to do anything, because the truth is, I can't. The life of someone with a disability is not mine to fix. I can't fix this, because I don't have to. All I can do, all I did (and it seems I still do) is love. And yes, it did change me. It took my life and spin it completely until I didn't even know who was starring back at me in the mirror. And I read books. I joined a support group. I learned. I wanted to do my best to adjust and adapt. I tried to figure it all out. I tried to be the best version of myself because I thought that if I will make it my life's goal to do better, to make it better, I will prove that happiness is real and possible, I will prove my love is real. And I'll share with you a little secret: it was all about me. I grew. I loved. I cried and despaired. I learned. I know so much about it that all I want is to become a professional and my life will never be the same again. But it's still all about me. I made myself better. And I made myself stronger. And I loved. And maybe I still love. And maybe I'll love until the end of time. But the other one's life is his own life and I was nothing but a pit stop. Maybe I helped, maybe I didn't. Maybe I made it better, maybe I made it worse. Maybe I'll never know. But it's "me before you". I remember the girl I was a year ago. I see another girl in the mirror.  And I'm thankful. 
There was literally nothing I wouldn't have done to make it better. But one day I realized the only way to make it better was to do nothing. To let go, to give up, if you will. Yes. I had to bite my heart and eat it up and give up. Because I realized it wasn't about the other, it was about me. I wanted the other to be happy so that I could be happy with him. I wanted the other to feel better so that I would feel better with him. I wanted good things, wonderful things, never-ending love and happiness. But implementing those was not my job. Creating those was not in my hands. I chose to love because I wanted to. I chose to wait because I wanted to. That was my resolution. But the other's decision to live, to try, to fight, that is not my call to make. To live and let live, to love and let go.
And most importantly, to be thankful. Very very thankful. Having someone with a disability in your life is the closest you can get to loving without any conditions, without any measure, without any expectations, to love beyond the power to love. It changes you, it transforms you, it betters you in every way. But what you give to the other, how it affects them or how it transforms them, that is theirs and theirs alone. You have no credit, you have no call. 
It's me before you. You made ME better. What I have given you, only you could know. But the only thing I have left to say is: thank you. You weren't just the North of my life, by which I sailed. You have been the Northern Lights: the most beautiful thing I've ever encountered. And I am forever grateful.

Daienu - the Easter post

Every year for Easter we sing a song called “Daienu” – it tells the wonders that God has made with His people, and after each one of them it’s said “That would have been enough, that would have been enough, daienu, daienu, daienu.” – meaning that if God had done only one of the wonderful things He did it would have been enough. But He always surprises us with more miracles.

So, I too like to think about all the wonders God has made with me. And not just the big miraculous things, but especially the small ones, the moments we spent alone, the moments when I know He was there and He sat right next to me, like the loving husband He is. Like 2 years ago when I took a trip along the Inn to a small German village and there was waiting for me a Church full of sunflowers, which are my favorite. Only He could have done that.

So I sat yesterday, before leaving for the Easter Vigil, in front of my Beloved’s tomb. And in those silent moments of gratitude for His love and His death, I thought of all our beautiful moments from last year. The big ones, and the small ones… especially the small.

·When we held the catequesis in the Church and had to preach His word

·Every time we went to 1 Mai and sat on our favorite bench watching the Sun over the meadow and talking about my life

·When I was crying before my final exam and He sat with me and then walked me home

·When I left for Chisinau, scared and terrorized and He stayed always by my side, waking me up at 6 am and helping me study

· When we were in Israel, and I got my purity ring saying “I am my Beloved’s and my Beloved is mine” and we sat together in the chapel of the garden where He met Mary Magdalene

·When in Israel, on mount Carmel, He was the still small voice in the wind and He colored the entire horizon in blue, just because it’s my favorite color

·When He was holding my hand through the hard sleepless nights

· When we sat on a rooftop in Jerusalem, feeling so close to Heaven we could almost touch it

· When we visited Sibiu alone and enjoyed our time together

· When we were in Venlo and sat by the river in the sunlight and He made me feel I was beautiful to Him

When He helped me finish a special gift for someone we love
 When He renewed my strength, my faith and my hope

·When He made me feel I belong with Him and He will never let go of me

· When I read Him the whole Song of Songs on Christmas Night

·When He understood I need to wallow and encouraged me through my days of tiredness and depression

 When He told me it’s ok to let go, and reassured me He will make everything good

·Every time I feel sad and hopeless and He makes me laugh or smile about something

·When He told me I had done everything I could and sustained me through the hardships

· When I sang to Him

· When I would put Benedict to sleep and fantasize about my future wondering what He has in mind for me

·When we discovered Arad together and prayed in the Maria Radna Basilica

 And so many cups of coffee that I drank in my flat thanking Him for providing for my every need so that I could enjoy the sunlight going in through my window

My Lord is my Beloved. He died for me and resurrected for me and He is my first husband. He will make everything good, even if I don’t see it or understand it yet. One day, when I’ll look back at all we’ve been through I’ll see crystal clear that His plan is perfect and all that He does is wonderful. I am thankful for every moment we spent together, even if I let Him down so many times, even if I lost my hope and my faith, even if I didn’t accept my troubles and my pain, even if I shouted at Him many times. My sins do not surprise Him, it is His love and forgiveness that surprises me. Thank you, my Beloved, may this year make my love for You grow more and more each day!

Melchior, where or how do I search for God?

I wrote in a previous post how I love the Feast of the Three Kings. And I do. This year though a lot of work and stress gathered up and since I had to postpone my own work to prepare for the Feast I experienced a bit of frustration and anxiety. But once I let go of that and realized that my contribution to the Feast was helpful to a lot of people I was really looking forward to meeting the Three Kings (yeah, they actually come and they barely speak Romanian so I'm their translator). And since it's my third year as the Kings's translator I too, just like the kids, write a letter to the Kings. Tradition says the letter should contain a narration of an event of the past year in which I experienced God's love and that I should also ask for a special grace and a gift.
I'm not gonna tell you all that I wrote in my letter. But after the kids met the Three Kings and spoke with them it was time for the adults to approach the Kings... not many adults were willing, which is quite weird - why we grown-ups have such little faith. But since I was there translating and I had written a letter (which, with my lack of faith I left at home for I feared actually showing it to the Kings) I asked the Kings whether they wanted to talk to me too. And Melchior asked me what did I ask for in my letter. And I said I wished for grace to see the will of God. And Melchior asked me again: "Do you seek God?" and I hesitantly replied smiling for I was very off-guard: "I try... I think so, yes..." but Melchior asked me once again: "Do you seek God seriously? Seek him, with seriousness, and all other things will be given to you." And as I tried to smile and nod "Yes" he kept on repeating "Seek God, seek Him, seriously." And he said that several times and I kept feeling smaller and smaller... There I was, the translator of the Kings, always smiling and joking and amusing, looking like one who does not search for God with seriousness. This fact makes me feel very small and altogether outside of faith. Like one who does not know God at all. And as I came home I kept replaying the scene in my mind "Seek God. Do you seek God?" - "What should I have answered? Do I seek God? I think, I mean, I don't know, I try to do His will, but I don't know what it is, so how do I know? How do I search for God?"... Truth is, I don't think I searched for God much. I think I kind of took Him for granted. He's here, he's always with me, we're in a relationship, why would I search for Him? But if I'm in a relationship with God how come I have no idea what He wants from me and my life? How come I always feel this foggy, like nothing's really clear to me and I'm never quite happy? How come I have no idea which way my life's going and if I'm doing the right thing and going in the right direction at all? Maybe it's because I don't really listen to God. I'm not really trying to find out His will. I'm just trying to see if His will is going to be doing mine. If He's going to do things my way and grant me my wishes. And that's not searching for God. And that's not faith. So now I ask "Melchior, where and how do I search for God?"...

Dresdner Stollen or how I try to give Christmas a second chance

So... I started writing this yesterday, but right now I am at my workplace which is beautifully decorated, and there's an artificial fireplace and a nice big natural Christmas tree and a lot of decorations, and I'm tired and on my 4th cup of coffee and it's been a bit of a hard day and I would like to talk about it to someone but I can't so all in all I am still having very mixed feelings about this Christmas. But let's just say I decided to give Christmas a second chance and let myself be won over by all those beautiful things that happen around this time of the year.
This Advent, as I was looking towards Christmas I began to realize more and more that I do not wish to celebrate it this year: not another Christmas sad and alone, not trying to fill the void and the absence of the one I love with decorations and chocolate. I don't want to celebrate Christmas not even a little bit, not even at all since it is clear to me that I will be alone, yet surrounded by too many people. And since I can't spend these days with the one I love the most, all I really want is having the possibility of going somewhere where I don't know a soul. Somewhere I am completely alone and I can go to Mass, then take a long long midnight walk around a pretty burg. But out of various reasons that is not possible. So here I am, caught between moaning about this year's Christmas and swinging and singing to Benedict, the 6 months wonder I babysit.
So I decided I needed to do something special, something I wanted to do in a long while, something that would make me feel better. So I decided baking a Dresdner Stollen. Because it's Jesus's birthday, and though I said I wouldn't go, someone wise told me: "That's perfectly fine. But you can't stop Him from coming to you." And that's true, and I kind of hope He'll come and I thought it would be nice having a piece of the most wonderful Christmas cake in the world on the table. And there's another thing: I like to make-believe. So I just pretended that one of the Stollens will get to the one I love. I just pretended he'll love it, I just pretended he'll be happy to know I made it and to know I made one for him too. Oh yes, and I made the marzipan myself, too.

I love backing. I simply love that. The oven (which I don't possess at home) is the only thing I miss about my parents's house. So yesterday I went there and I started preparing: to me, that has the value of a ritual. I just enjoy every little moment of it, every small detail. I love getting my hands in the dough and molding it, I love the smell of raisins sunk in rum and the scent of freshly grated lemon and orange, and naturally, the smell of almonds which was all over the place and all over my clothes. It's just a very pure bliss. And I cover the dough and put it in a warm and dark place and put a blanket on top of it and I say a prayer that the cake will be good and I don't enter that room for two full hours. I just like doing this with piety, like a prayer, like a healing process. And when I put the cake in the oven I like staring at it for a while meditating about the reasons behind this act of love. To me, baking sweets is an act of love. I usually do it for those people who are special to me, friends, family or the most dear ones. This time too I split the dough in two: one for my parents, one lovingly made Stollen for my most dear one. And even if I would tell him about it he probably wouldn't accept it, but it's even more probable that I won't even dare to tell him about it, because he's not really a Christmas person. But that's ok. Even if I never give this Stollen to the one I made it for, that's ok. I needed to bake it. That's how I am. I am very selfish like that: although I try to accept the other one's freedom of not responding to my feelings, I always feel the need of expressing them even when facing rejection, sometimes, even at the cost of the other one's comfort. That's how I'm made, and it's a bit stupid. It's stupid baking a cake no one's going to eat, it's stupid believing "almost six impossible things every morning before breakfast", it's stupid preparing and anticipating a miracle that might never take place. And in the end it's bitter. It's very bitter to be alone, it's very bitter not to be able to talk to the one you love, it's bitter always being far away, it's bitter not knowing if it will ever get better. But through all this bitterness I pray every day for hope and love and faith. And every night when I go to bed I check myself to see if I still have hope. And that small fragile hope, that tiny tiny, so so tiny belief that this what I feel is right, that is just the right amount of sugar to this bitterness. And that, my dear ones, that's how marzipan is made. Because not everything that's bitter is bad, and sometimes bitterness can have a wonderful taste if you add to it a tender bit of sweetness. So my Stollen is about that. About accepting this bittersweet Christmas. About realizing that God loves me even though I'm foolish, and stupid and subjective, even though I exaggerate and I am very emotional. This Stollen is about me trying to let go and spend this Christmas in silence and peace, accepting that even though I am not "incandescently" happy, I am blessed and I am thankful. I am thankful for all the miraculous things that have happened this year, I am thankful for having such a beautiful soul to think about while baking a Stollen, I am thankful for loving. What's bittersweet about it is that I love in solitude. But that's ok, I would rather love from the distance than not love at all.
Oh, and P.S. this is my favorite bittersweet Christmas song :)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j9jbdgZidu8

Will You be upset if I skip Your birthday this year?

This year I didn't celebrate my birthday with a party. I was too busy and too stressed studying for the project that changed my life completely. I had lunch or dinner (can't remember) with my parents and that was it. And I really don't mind and I don't regret it at all. And so was 2 years ago and 4 years ago when I had an exam on my birthday. I'm just not obsessed about having a huge party or celebration.
But I do love Advent. And please note, Advent, not Christmas. And the Feast of the Three Kings on the 6th of January. I love that too.
I love Advent because it makes me believe a miracle will happen very soon. It makes me prepare and anticipate (and I loooooove anticipating!) and it makes me wait with excitement and hope and feel like happiness is just around the corner, just 4 weeks, then 3 weeks, then 2 weeks, one week, a couple of days... today... and it doesn't happen. I am sad, I am sorry, and as a christian I am ashamed to say, the last time I was completely happy on Christmas Day was 4 years ago in 2011, but then on the 27th of 2011 I started writing the most painful piece of prose I ever wrote. And since then, although I waited for it, although I prepared, although I made everything (not just silly decorations and sweets, I fasted, I prayed, I did "my job") and I was O.K. for Christmas, I wasn't truly happy. And no matter how much I tried to make it about Jesus and His birthday and His birth inside my heart, I still felt alone and sad.
So here I am, in the second week of Advent, on the night before waking up at 5 am to go to the Rorate mass, trying to picture how in the world will I be happy this Christmas, praying with all the strength I have left for a miracle, trying to figure out how the miracle will be (see the stupidity???) and in the end crying my eyes out that I just want to skip this Christmas.
Yes, my dearest Jesus, I want to skip Your birthday this year. I can't. I'm sorry. I can't celebrate your birthday alone again, I can't spend Christmas Day trying with all my guts to smile and to be happy and to make it about You when I know, and You know, and we both know, that I'll wish I was somewhere else. This year I don't care about decorations, I don't care about sweets and carols and presents and snow. I like those things, yes, but they don't matter anymore. They can't fill the void anymore. All I wish is that I wouldn't be alone, I don't need anything, I don't need one little led light, not even a candle, not the smallest one. I just don't want to be alone in my home looking at a Christmas tree that won't mean a thing. Instead I prefer an empty house, as dark as it can be, but knowing that I hold the hand of the man that I love in mine.
And this is very selfish, but it's the sincerest thing I've ever told You, my Beloved: I don't have enough faith to think You'll make me happy. And I don't want to celebrate Your birthday being sad, I just can't cry another Christmas through again. So can we skip Your birthday this year? I just don't think I can make it. I'm so so sorry and I do love You, but I don't want to come to another birthday of Yours alone.
Always Yours,
C.

The Lighthouse

I am the lighthouse.
I may seem far away and outside the trembling sea,
but my grounds are always firm and my light will never fade out.
No matter how strong the winds that shake you and how dark the storm,
no matter how violent the waves that toss you and how deep down you sink,
look at me.
I am always there and my light never gets tired and the sand never moves beneath my feet,
I am your lighthouse.
If you remember the night is always darker before the dawn,
the shore will be closer than you think. 

I wrote this a while ago when I was in Israel. And then I printed the picture of a lighthouse and put it on my coffee tumbler to remind me of it every day. And there are days when I feel I'm losing my faith and then I ask myself a set of questions and I answer them and they all sum up to this: "We are here to love: not much else matters" (Francis Chan). And there is another quote I think about every day: "Yes, feeling loved is very important. But loving, my precious girl, that's the necessity." We should never regret loving. Because that would be as if the lighthouse would regret being on the shore casting its light over the sea. Because yes, there are times when I feel sad if I don't feel loved the way I would like to be, and yes again, I feel alone every now and then. But even if all seems lost, I never regret loving and I know, with all that I am, that I do not wish to do otherwise. When I started writing this I was having a moment with God like one has with her only best friend, talking about all my fears and insecurities and how all feels hopeless. And I looked at my tumbler and wondered where does the lighthouse take its light from? I am given mine from God. All this fragile love I feel, all the poor strength I have, all of it, comes from Him. I can't pretend not to have a relationship with God, I can't avoid the subject and act as if all I feel is from myself. "We love because He loved us first."  If I want to keep being a lighthouse I need to be given my light. I need to feel loved, but by God. I need to talk to Him about the things I can't even spell out loud. I need to know Him by my side so that every day I can go on and on without ever feeling like I have nothing left to give. He's the first and He will always be first. Because all the good I have to give He gave it to me first. That's where the lighthouse takes its light from.

Since Advent started I felt the need to get back to this blog. I missed it :) 

Fiicelor mele, cu drag, mama. :) (with English Translation)

Unul din motivele pentru care am început acest blog de realitate sensibilă, care de fapt e un alt fel de a spune „realitate creștină”, pe lângă faptul că eu însămi sunt creștină și am nevoie să vorbesc despre experiența asta, este acela că sper ca într-o zi să am o familie creștină și poate câteva fiice. Care fiice, cel mai probabil, vor trece și ele prin experiențe similare cu ale mele. Și cu toate că sper că voi știi să fiu alături de ele, există șanse mari să devin super-protectivă și să vreau să le închid într-un turn în care nimeni să nu le rănească vreodată. Și nu cred că le va plăcea asta. Așa că m-am hotărât să le las experiența mea scrisă, ca să le arăt că și eu am avut partea mea de zbucium și tristețe și să îmi amintesc că nici mie nu mi-a fost ușor să mă confrunt cu toate.

„Dragă Rita sau Maria-Amparo sau Debora,

Una din cele mai enervante, frustrante și triste experiențe pe care le vei trăi va fi aceea de a-ți plăcea, sau și mai rău, a te îndrăgosti, de persoane nepotrivite. Dacă vei semăna cu mine, înainte de a te gândi ce mai exact îți place la el, te vei gândi la toate modurile și felurile în care o relație cu persoana asta nu va funcționa. Te vei panica instant la gândul că poate vei reuși prin absurd să-l faci să-i placă de tine și apoi va trebui să îi vorbești despre tine și despre felul în care trăiești tu viața ca fată creștină. Așa că, cel mai probabil, nici nu vei știi dacă să fii tristă că nu te cheamă în oraș și nu iese cu tine, sau să te bucuri că măcar așa nu trebuie să îi explici că tu n-o să dormi cu el, n-o să te culci cu el, și practic, n-o să faci cam niciunul din lucrurile pe care el se așteaptă ca o fată de vârsta ta să le facă într-o relație. Și cu toate că în tine va fi mereu o voce care îți va explica frumos și rar că există cineva pentru tine și că nici măcar nu îți place așa de tare de tipul ăsta, vor fi momente când te vei îmbrăca cu o rochie frumoasă, te vei machia drăguț și vei veni singură acasă și vei vrea să spargi oglinda și să dai foc la tot dulapul, pentru că adevărul e că în seara asta nu vrei să fii singură și ai vrea ca cineva să te scoată la plimbare, să te țină de mână și să te sărute. Da, și te enervează cumplit că de fiecare dată când te gândești ce să mai faci ca să-i atragi atenția revine vocea care îți explică că nu are niciun sens să îi atragi atenția pentru că dacă îi va plăcea de tine, va trebui să îi explici cine ești și asta e cea mai sinistră și traumatizantă discuție pe care ți-o poți imagina și ți-e frică de ea și știi că nu va duce nicăieri, pentru că te uiți la omul de care îți place și îți dai seama că nu există nicio șansă pe pământul ăsta prin care el chiar să fie fericit numai să te țină de mână și să te ia în brațe. Și da, ești tristă și suferi. Și da, știi și tu că într-o zi va fi bine și le crezi pe toate persoanele care încearcă să te înveselească amintindu-ți ce tânără și frumoasă ești, dar în momentul ăsta vrei să le bați pe toate, pentru că tu ești singură și plângi și vrei ca cineva să-ți spună lucruri drăguțe și amuzante și să se joace în părul tău și să te ia în brațe și pur și simplu nu vezi persoana asta nicăieri. Și poate vrei atunci să te rogi să nu mai simți asta niciodată și să nu-ți mai placă de niciun băiat care nu e pentru tine. Dar nici asta nu va funcționa pentru că după un timp îți va fi dor să simți și dor să-ți placă și să râzi și să te aranjezi. Chiar dacă acum toate complimentele te lasă cu un gust amar, pentru că știi că nu au nicio valoare. Chiar dacă acum toate ți se par fără sens și fără rost, pentru că știi foarte bine că tu nu te poți conforma cu societatea în care trăiești. Pentru că tu nu-ți regreți deciziile și nici nu-ți regreți credința. Regreți că ești cam singură în asta și că eșuezi în a le arăta celor din jur că e frumoasă viața de creștin. Regreți că lumea în care trăiești te vede ca pe o persoană pedepsită, nu binecuvântată. Regreți că nu reușești să dai cuiva curaj să încerce viața altfel. Regreți că oamenii te admiră, poate chiar te doresc, dar nu te acceptă de fapt așa cum ești. Regreți că încă nu ai reușit să treci peste toate astea, regreți că încă suferi și cazi în deznădejde. Dar asta-i viața, Maria, și povestea asta probabil se va repeta de nenumărate ori până în ziua când îl vei cunoaște pe acela care trebuie să vină. Dar dacă tu citești asta, vreau să ieși din camera ta, sau din baie, de unde te-ai ascuns să plângi și să mergi să te uiți la tatăl tău. Dacă nu îl găsești așezat la masa din bucătărie mâncând lucernă, să știi că nu e un bou, e acela care s-a uitat la mama ta și a văzut o comoară, nu o pedeapsă, acela care l-a lăsat și pe Dumnezeu să mai facă din planuri și care s-a încrezut în El, că nu-l va face nefericit și nesatisfăcut, ci
îi va da cu adevărat harul iubirii, de a putea trăi cu adevărat o poveste minunată. Curaj, baby, Dumnezeu te-a ales din ziua în care eu am scris aceste rânduri, El îți va da tot ce îți dorește inima și încă mai mult.

Cu drag,
Mama.

P.S. În cazul în care nu te-a ajutat cu nimic tot ce am scris, am ceva folositor pentru tine: este înghețată în congelator.”

















English Translation:

To my daughters, with love, Mom.

One of the reasons for which I started this blog about "the sensitive life" which is just another way of saying "christian life", besides the fact that I am a christian and need to talk about this experience, is the fact that I hope to have a christian family someday and maybe a couple of daughters. Which daughters, most probably will experience similar stories as I did. And even though I hope I'll know how to be there for them and support them, there are chances I'll turn into an over-protective mother wanting to lock them in a tower where no one will ever hurt them. And I don't think they're gonna like that. So I decided to leave them my written experience, so they will know they are not the only ones who had to go through all this stuff and I will be able to remember I had a hard time coping with everything too.

Dear Rita or Maria-Amparo or Deborah,

One of the most annoying, frustrating and painful experiences you will ever have will be liking, or worse, falling in love with someone who isn't right for you. And if you are anything like me, before thinking what is it that you like about him you will start thinking about all the ways in which a relationship with this person won't work. You will panic at the thought that he might like you back and then you will have to talk to him about yourself and how you live your life as a Christian girl. So, most probably, you won't even know if you should be sad that he doesn't ask you out or just be glad that in this way you don't have to explain him that you won't sleep with him, have sex with him or basically won't do any of the things he would expect a girl of your age would do in a relationship. And although there will always be a voice in your head that will explain to you nice and slowly that there is someone out there for you and that you might not even like this guy so much, there will be times when you'll put on a pretty dress and a beautiful make-up (not you, Julia, because you don't do any of these, but my daughters might) and come home alone and wishing you smashed the mirror and burn all your clothes because the truth is that tonight you don't want to be alone and you wish there was someone there to take you out on a walk and hold your hand and kiss you. Yes, and you hate it that every time you think about what you could do to make him notice you the voice in your head reminds you that it would make no sense getting his attention because if he might like you then you will have to explain him who you are and that is by far the most traumatizing and sinister conversation you could possibly imagine and it won't lead anywhere because there is no chance on this Earth that he might actually be happy with only holding your hand and "slightly" hugging you (I felt the need to emphasize "slightly" - men nowadays have skills in hugging too). And yes, you are sad and in pain. And yes, you know one day everything will be alright and you believe it when everyone tells you that you are young and beautiful but right now you just wanna tell everyone to go to hell because you are alone and crying and wishing someone was there watching the game with you and telling you funny things and nice things and holding you and you just don't see this person anywhere. And maybe then you wanna pray that it all goes away and that you never ever feel again and fall again for the wrong person. But that won't work either, because after a while you will miss feeling and liking and laughing. Even though right now all compliments leave you with a bitter taste in your mouth because you know they are worthless. Even though  everything seems pointless right now because you know you can't conform to the society you live in. Because you don't regret your decisions or our faith. You regret being a little alone in this and failing to show the people around you that life as a christian is very beautiful. You regret the fact that the world sees you as a punished person not a blessed one. You regret that you can't give someone the courage to try to live life differently. You regret that people admire you and even desire you but don't really accept you as you are. You regret that you still haven't figured out how to get over all this and you still suffer and lose hope. But that's how life is, Maria, and this story will never get old until the day you meet the one who is yours to come. But if you are reading this, I want you to get out of your room or the bathroom where you've hidden to cry and go look at your father. If you don't find him sitting  at the kitchen table eating hay then you should know he's not an ox but a man who looked at your mother and saw a treasure, not a curse. He is a man who let God make some of the plans and who trusted that He will not make him unhappy and unsatisfied but will give him the power to love and be truly happy. Courage, my little baby, God has chosen you since the day I wrote these lines. He knows your heart and will fulfill all of your wishes and even more.

I love you,
Mom.

P.S. If nothing of this helped, here is something helpful: there is ice-cream in the refrigerator.

God's Photo Album (English)

Right before leaving my house for the Easter celebration I looked in the mirror and I was pretty happy with the results of my "not so spiritual" preparations. (I was very happy with the spiritual ones too.) And I smiled and asked God if He liked it too, after all, it was only for Him that I had put on a white dress and a pretty make-up. And I imagined Him saying He loves it, just like a true fiance would say. "You're beautiful. And late. So get out of the house and don't forget anything." - that's pretty much what He said. :) And when I came home and undo my make up and my hair I realized I didn't have a picture of that night. So I said to my Fiance "I hope You took a picture, because I didn't." And somehow I knew He did. And the story repeated itself last night at Pentecost when again I put on a beautifully blue dress and have no picture. So when I came home and realized this I thought "What if God has a photo album of us?" - Think about it, what if He has a photo album, carefully crafted, filled with all the memories when we were together? Filled with all the Celebrations and moments when we loved each other deeply? Filled with the proves of every time He carried us, every time He took us in His arms and told us He loved us? Every time He made us completely and incandescently happy? Today I really wish He had one and showed it to me, page by page. And somehow He does. I can think of Him standing next to me and telling the story of how He chose me, how we met, how many times I tried to run away, how many times He pulled me back, how many times we took a strong hold of each other and promised never to let go. Saying "Remember that Church you visited on your last day in Austria that I filled with Sunflowers because I knew you were coming and you were so happy to see it?" or "Remember your first Celebration of the Pentecost eight years ago? Remember you were wearing that brown skirt of yours and when you got home you wrote Me a couple of lines on a very thin piece of paper?" or "Remember the pink flowers you used to put in your hair in Israel? Remember when you knelt beside my tomb?" or "Remember the fireworks at Loreto? Remember all the cups of coffee we drank together talking and laughing, or when you were crying and I had to find something funny around you to make you smile again?" - And when He says all these things, when He shows me all these memories that only He has a picture of, I know He is here with me, I know He loves me, even though I feel so sinful and alone, even though I worry for so many things, even though I lose my hope and maybe stop talking to Him for hours... I know He is still there, still coming up with a thousand new ways of making me fall in love with Him, because He never gives up, He never stops fighting for me, never stops loving me and perfecting me even when I'm at my worst. Thank You, Beloved, I may not feel happy right now, or feel joyful, but I know You're still by my side even when I feel completely alone and lost.