•December 8, 2011 • Leave a Comment

Today I was talking on the phone with my mother and she said one of the most condescending things a mother can say to their 33-year-old daughter, she said Hattie you are growing up.  Now growing up to my mother means I finally said something she agrees with, but it made me think.  First I was annoyed, I mean I am 33, I have an 8-year-old son.  I have been married for 2 years and 10 days(YEAH).  I have been out of her house for 8 years consecutively lived with my then boyfriend now husband for about 3 yrs, and I was in college before that.  So why was it I was just in her mind “growing up”.  I sat in my room annoyed by the audacity of her words.  I know they sound harmless but when said by a mother to anyone who is as old as I am it sounds like an insult wrapped in a compliment.

After taking out my computer to thoroughly document my annoyance I thought about what she said in 2 other ways. I thought I seriously do not wish to grow up, at least not in the way where my thoughts simply agree with my mothers. If God had wanted us to always agree why did he make me and not some other daughter for her.  No! I was placed here to challenge her.  To make sure she always has a reason to pray and so her mind stays sharp.  I mean you must have a quick wit to keep up with me.  The other way I thought is I am growing, each day I learn something new,  something about myself, about the world, about life.  So if I am constantly growing, how exactly can I say I am grown.  So I guess in some ways mom is right, I am growing up. I just want her to know I will constantly be growing up for the rest of my life, and I am glad she is here to challenge me and keep me praying often.


In the end we win/

•December 7, 2011 • Leave a Comment

Years ago when I was a young teenager, My father did a sermon in which he told a story about a little boy.  The little boy was reading a book about superheros and villains.  Somewhere around the middle the villain was running the show.  He was tearing into the hero with a vengeance that looked like it was going to be the end.  The little boy was upset by this, his shoulders were tense, his mouth was cast down in a frown that looks as if his heart was breaking. He turned to the last pages of the book, read quickly and turned back to the section he was reading.  As he began to read this time the villain is still making processed meat of the hero but the boy seems to be more relaxed.  He reads a bit and then lets out a confident laugh “haha in the end we win”

Our lives are just like this story sometimes it seems as if all the evils of this world are attacking us and or countenance is cast down.  We are being ripped apart by the villans claws, we are being tricked by the villains mesmerizing lies and deceits.  We stand in this space where it seems we are doomed to lose this battle for our souls.  But I have read the last few pages of my story and know the author of yours, I will tell you “In the end WE WIN’.

Prayer for a friend

•December 5, 2011 • Leave a Comment

When I can do nothing, when I have done all I can, when I have cried to many tears, when the sleep does not come but the worry does. When all seems lost and defeat seems to mark the horizons.  I am turning my eyes to the one who knows all, sees all, and is in all.  I am turning to the one who is not the universe but who made the universe.  I am asking the God of all things, of Self and of Spirit.  The only true God and Savior of my soul, I am begging him to not show me his plan but to fulfill his promise to never leave nor forsake me and my family.  Into your hands oh God of all, I place this battered family and those around may not see you but you are here in the midst of all things even the sorrow and suffering you are here.  I thank you for letting me see this day, for bringing me back to you and for blessing this family.

Foundations (please understand this is an off writing day)

•December 5, 2011 • 1 Comment

Ever had a dream where you are walking around in circles looking for a way out.  You go to the right, to the left, to the front and back, you look up and down and all around.  Yet somehow each turn you make brings you back to the place you are trying to leave.  Today as I talked with my husband I believe this is how I felt.  I wanted so much for him to empathize with me about something.  I tried to tell him in adult terms baby terms. teenage terms, book terms, ignorant terms, movie terms, smart terms,   I tried using analogies and allegories and still nothing.  I tried linking it to his childhood.  I tried talking about his college experiences and still he did not understand how I felt.  At this point I  decided to give up he was fundamentally unable to understand how I felt.  So what does this have to do with foundations.  I don’t know but I do know that if you are fundamentally unable to empathize with me then I guess our foundations are not as strong as I thought

Made in the image of God

•January 6, 2011 • Leave a Comment

The bible say that God made man in the image of himself.  That sounds really awesome.  I mean I knew all my life that there was something God like in my mirror. When I was old enough to read it in the Bible, I knew I had been right all along.  Now when I look into the mirror and I see myself I say you are such a beautiful God creature.  Some think that saying I am a God creature makes me blasphemous but I know that this is not so because I am called a daughter of God.  I sprang from his mind and he knew before my birth what I was to look like so that is why I can like myself more than the average person.  I know that when God looks down on me he says to his Angels there is a woman made in my image.  Her lips are full, her eyes are big and her skin well is a mixture of the mud from the Nile and the stars in the sky.  When God looks down on on me he says to himself, “this is good”. 
    Some one recently said that I was racist for saying that my Santa is black and my Jesus is black.  However Since I am made in the image of God I imagine that he looks like me and thus his son also has some of my features.  As for my Santa his name was Dennis L Waters Sr.  he is black and he is the only Santa that ever came to my house.  In the movie THE TOOTH FAIRY, The Roc plays the tooth fairy.  He is not a pretend tooth fairy he is a real tooth fairy and he is one of many tooth fairies.  No one got upset because the tooth fairy became a man and wore tights.  We took our children to see the movie in the theaters.  We laughed at the screen and we had fun.  So it should be when I stat that my Santa is black.  My Santa is one of millions of Santas in this world and he does his job just as well as any other Santa you may know.  As children we teach children to embrace possibility so why not just offer the possibility that Santa is a name just like James Bond it comes with the suit.  My sons Santa this year was Puerto Rican and he looked like a very handsome man I know but on Christmas Eve at 11:30 his name was Kris Kringle, St. Nick, Sinterklaus or Santa Claus.  Each child should know that any Santa Claus they see in the home is the real Santa Claus and for anyone to say differently is selfish and insensitive and wrong. 

  My husband is the real Santa my father is the real Santa, My grandfather was my hero and my brothers are Champions.  My Son is my littlest God creature and I am perfectly imperfect waiting on my Savior no matter what he looks like (he looks just like me) to take me home to be with my Father, where race and color no longer will even matter although I think even God agrees that the darker the berry the sweeter the juice.

My Santa is Black, My Jesus is Black, My easter Bunny well he is pink but I will make him black too

•January 3, 2011 • Leave a Comment

What if Santa in my imagination looks like me and not like you?  What if he isn’t white?  What if in the imagination of one child or in the homes of 42,000,000 people Santa Claus was a dark-skinned man with no rosy cheeks just a kind heart and a sweet smile? Would you tell your children of the wonderful things he does?  Would you tell of how he loves all the children in the world and brings presents?  Would You leave the chimney open when you knew he was coming?  Would you leave your shot-gun behind the bed when his dark hand reached down to leave a present.  Could you imagine a world the way I see it where the super heroes look like my people and less like yours? 

If your Jesus were different from what you imagined would you be able to serve him.  If Jesus where not the brown-haired blue-eyed white man who so many people  see could you abase yourself in front of him?  If Jesus came to your house and he looked like my son grown up, could you smile and thank him for dying on the cross for you?  Could you say to yourself this brown-skinned man died, so that I can live?  Could you do as Mary Magdalene  did and bow down and wash the dark brown toes of Jesus.  I am not trying to say that Jesus is Black even if history and genealogy could tell you that he was a melting pot of races and ethnicities in one body.  I just want to give you something to think about.  If we all say we are not racist or prejudiced against people and yet find it hard to accept Barrack Obama as president, could you thank my saviour for being your saviour, even if he looks more like my people than your people want to believe?

Lost home

•December 14, 2010 • Leave a Comment

Hi my name is Hattie Pacheco and I am an AKOD.  It has been 18 days since I spoke with my father and about 1hr and 23 minutes since I spoke with my mother.  Before this I had not spoken to my father in months and well I talk to my mom everyday ( not by choice).  I feel broken and put back together completely wrong.  I am married and I have a beautiful 7 year old boy.  I am happy when I see my husband and my son.  However even in the midst of this happiness I am an AKOD and I feel like art by Picasso.  I find that I am torn with the feelings I have regarding both my parents.  I also find that I am angry. 

I am angry at my dad mostly.  I love my dad and this is why such anger disturbs me.  My father was always the one I trusted more than anyone.  I believed him to be a good man, I believe he still is.  My belief system is on shaky ground these days.  How can you trust and believe someone that has caused you to question all that they taught you to believe in.  Not about God and who he is but about life and why we live it.  I find that I resent my father and deem him a coward for running away from his vows instead of trying to renew the love he once had.  I find that my father’s reasons (excuses) give my head tremors and cause me to have nightmares in which he is a person I have to annihilate in order for all to be right in the world.  Sometimes I see every man in the actions of my father.  Did I mention  I am married.  Yes I think their are times that I hate my father and every male creature that God chose to create.  My husband I fear must love me through these moments.  he must hug me, kiss me, whisper sweet nothings in my ear.  He promises to love me and only me forever and not to hurt me and to want me physically for the rest of our lives.  I curl up next to him.  I feel safe here for a moment or minute, hour or sometimes a day.  Then I think how can he promise things that my father after 35 years decided were worth naught and walked away.  My husband can not make such promises I think to myself.  So I, for a brief moment , I resent my husband because my father was faithless. 

I am a daughter, I am an AKOD.  I love my mother though her voice makes my ears bleed and her controlling nature causes me to be uncontrollable.  She calls me more now.  She is crying about everything.  My brother tells me it is the MS.  People with MS also battle with depression.  Yes I know but it is not depression over MS that she is dealing with it is the depression over my father.  My mother used to be a force to be reckoned with.  I was at times afraid to cross her path for what she might do to me.  Now I am afraid to cross her path for what she might tell me he said to her.  I am angry with my mother.  I am angry at her for having MS.  I am angry at her for filing for divorce and then crying.  I am angry because she calls me crying.  I am angry because she chose to love someone so much it is as if she gave him her soul.  I am angry because she has never known the touch of another man.  I am angry because she needs a friend.  I am angry because although I love her I am not able to be that friend.  I can only be a daughter.  I can not listen to things my father has said to her.  I am his daughter as well and I love him too.  I am angry because he took her only friend in this area away from her.  I am angry and I am scared.  I am an AKOD. I  look at my mother and no matter how hard I try to close my eyes I see myself.  I am angry because love was not enough. 

I am an AKOD (Adult kid of Divorce.) My parents divorced this year and I am 32 years old.  I have been married for 1 year and less than a month.  I am hurt and confused.  Once a question was asked “what do you do when the foundations fall.?  My answer is, I get angry.  I wish I had a magic wand to erase the mistakes of my parents to make everything right.  I wish this wand could take away my mother’s medical problems.  I wish this wand could restore some sanity to my world.  But I don’t have this wand.  So I am angry with God or the universe or who ever it is that you reading this have as your deity.  I am angry because if the marriage was going to end in divorce it could have done it a lot sooner.  It could have happened before my 1st birthday.  I would rather already know what Christmas would be like this year instead of grabbing at broken glass trying to put together the resemblance of years past.  If they had divorced sooner I would already know where I would be.    I will be fine I am sure because I am an AKOD and I will inevitably find a way to cope.  But I will never be the same.  I will never feel as invincible as before.  I will never feel as lovely.  For you see I look just like my mother and if she was not enough for my father will I be enough for my husband.  I dont know .As it is now I feel like I must go visit my husbands family because I feel as if my family died in the hospital when my mother got sick.  I feel like I am stuck in a nightmare or a lifemare and I have lost my way home.

If you are reading this and you are my father or my mother I beg of you do not comment.  There is nothing you can say that can make this better you could only make it worse.  I am an AKOD and right now I do not wish to hear from you.