Dad's New Book

It is with incredible pride that I report the coming out of dad's new book, 'Aguas Mansas.' This, his second novel, is special for a few reasons. First, the book is dedicated to my grandfather, who passed away before dad was able to get the book finished. Gpa was a fan of my dad's writing, not to mention a great editor. Second, thanks to dad's success with his first book, 'Senales,' Barnes and Noble decided to take on the second book. Now, the book is just a click away, making the whole buying process easy for everyone. This is a major accomplishment for my father because it will allow him to share his writing with people all over the world. Third, this new book shows how versatile dad's writing can be. The setting, characters, moral dilemma and plot are radically different in both novels. 

Getting a hold of the books is easy: go to barnesandnoble.com, and simply type Acosta Uribe. A second later both novels will pop up. If online shopping is not acceptable, I have some books at my house that I would be glad to ship myself. 

A lot happens in a WEEK

I sent the last entry to my father, and I nervously awaited for his answer.

Two days later he answered: I received my father's blessing. Dad also taught me about the snapshot. The moment in life when God turns on the light, and we see what were created to do. Dad talked about seeing the snapshot and having the strength to follow through.

A month has gone by, and I have seen my snapshot. I have realized the calling; I have embraced the call. I have taken in the information. And I say YES, God I will go to seminary. Yes, God I will go back to school regardless of the fact that I am scared beyond words. Thank you for the snapshot. Thank you for softening my heart to the point that I could see the snapshot. I will start paving the way-working towards this goal that you have given me for my life.

However, I like closing chapters of my life in excellence. God had called me to teach, and I now see how it was important and why it was important. I do NOT doubt that he wanted me at MP, and I am in the middle of an important process of community building at the school. I need to finish what I started. I will give them all I've got for one more year, and with that I will kiss teaching good bye and start seminary. I have put in place an “Angelica is closing this chapter of her life strategy” in which I will save money to pay for seminary while I teach my last year & find someone to take over my lifegroup...I cannot multi-task. I stink at it. I cannot do two things at once, and do both well.

Seminary is too significant, life altering & loaded of a process to share it with something else like teaching. I want to give God my full attention when I go. I know I will be covered in manure as I attend seminary since God likes cleaning house before building something new.

So after a month of doubting out loud, I am saying YES God I will go. YES, I will drop everything for you. YES, I will pick up my bags and move to the end of the earth for you or stay in town if you want me to. As in today, I am paving the road to get there, and He will show me where to go and how to get there. I have seen the snapshot, and I am ready to start the road that leads to following through.

For the road:

"Soul this fretting is absolutely useless. You are not only messing up your own day, but a lot of other people's as well. Leave it with God and get on with your work." Anxiety accomplishes nothing worthwhile. - John Piper

A lot happens in six months

I don't even know where or how to begin this post.

I was asked to lead a women’s life group at church by the end of December. My initial response was to oppose this idea with all of my being. Who was I to lead a group of women in their spiritual walk? Moreover, I did not feel ready to commit to growing spiritually in the way I needed to in order to lead other women. I went to see my parents for the winter break, and I prayed for a sign- a big sign. Upon my return, I found out that most of the girls in my group had gotten engaged over the break, except for the two that were already married. I was the only single one left. I knew well the call for singles- to serve others wholeheartedly during this time of our lives. Singleness is to be a time of complete and absolute service to God, not a time to wait for ‘the one.’ I understood this was what I had asked for: God’s sign. And it was big, four diamond rings? No small sign. I was to step up and lead. The church opened the group to new people and soon the group had ten girls. It was, and it has been the most humbling experience of my life and yet one of the most rewarding. I have grown spiritually with great effort, and I have seen God at work in my life. In a sense the growing pains I described in December have continued.

In February some of my girls asked me to come with them to the women’s retreat that the church was hosting. My initial reaction was to say no. A retreat seemed like a ‘churchy’ activity, and I was not too crazy about being a part of it. I decided, however, that as a group leader I was to attend to support my girls. I paid the fees and registered for the retreat without knowing what the retreat was going to be dealing with. Low and behold, a week before the retreat – April- I get a retreat brochure in the mail. The weekend was called ‘the makeover.’ In short, the weekend was going to deal with self esteem and self image. The topic sent alarms to my head; my heart was beating furiously as I was staring at the brochure. I had to pull out of the retreat. I was not going to put myself through all that, and I was not going to have my girls witness that. From the eyes of an individual dealing with eating disorders, the thought of spending three days dwelling on the topic self image was excruciating.

For eight years of my life I had struggled with self image, to be precise with Bulimia. Many days-months and years spent worrying about pounds, inches, and diets and not measuring up to the standard. Some years were more difficult than others. Some years involved heavy diets, laxatives, diet pills, throwing up and complete and absolute despair. Some of the early images are of my parents transfixed with pain and shock after realizing what I was doing. It did not seem to make sense based on how I presented myself to the world: strong and in control. Other images include my roommates in College who saw the despair. I remember Marcela cradling me as I wept in front of the closet. I could not find something to wear and kept telling her in between sobs that I was bigger than a whale. I had blisters in my mouth and had holes on the roof of my mouth due to the lack of vitamins in my system. I lost a lot of hair and my finger nails did not grow. Despite it all, I hid it well. Most people did not know. I never talked about it, and my curvy body shape allowed me to hide the disorder, and even more, the pain. I felt inadequate; unattractive and insecure, but I hid it well. I created a wall and hid comfortably behind it. I presented myself as secure of myself, independent and capable of accomplishing it all: super woman. A big mask; I was afraid.

I was afraid of relationships. I pushed men away. I felt inadequate, fat, and not good enough. The thought of being a wife scared me to death. I did not want anyone to see me. I was afraid he would leave me when he realized my inadequacy. I masked the fear by being Ms. Wedding planner and a wedding connoisseur. But in truth being married was as scary as being obese. Not to mention my biggest phobia: getting pregnant. The thought of expanding for nine months made me feel anxious beyond comprehension not to mention the idea to be a mother to daughters. How in the world was I going to teach these girls to like their bodies? I could not even stare at my reflection while getting dressed.

Back to April, a week before the retreat.
At this point, I realize this retreat is an ambush. I try to pull out, but decide to stay in to be a supportive leader. I called Keith and laid the problem on the table. He told me it was time to face my biggest fear and ‘slay the dragon.’ I had to come clean with Parker and tell him my biggest secret; I asked him for daily prayer. Last, I scheduled a counseling appointment. I went to see Buffy, and as I sat down on her couch, I put it all out on the table. I told her, “I love God. He is by far the most important entity in my life. I have surrendered my life to him, and I want to do HIS will. I do not know how to accomplish this in practical way in two areas of my life: self image and relationships.” I explained to her the situation, and as she stared at me with her big, beautiful eyes, she said to me “God has called us to go to battle. He is there waiting for you, and the battle has already been won. But you have to go.” With intense trepidation, I packed my backpack and went to the beach. “God, here I go”, I said to myself.

Many things happened that weekend; all of them blew me away. God was ever present; in every corner. And he wanted to be heard. And he wanted to be seen. My heart had been softened, and I saw and I heard. The second day of the retreat I attended a session titled ‘the purse.’ It dealt with the topic of emotional baggage, and we were asked to choose from a list of many words the words that described negative traits in our personality. I chose perfectionist, untrusting, people pleaser, super woman and insecure. By the end of the session, we were supposed to choose one. I ended up with the word untrusting. This was a revelation. Untrusting? That was a new one for me; I thought of myself as trusting. At the beach during my quiet time, things started to make sense.

I did not trust God. I was under the impression that God would leave me. I believed, as a result of past hurts and scars in my life, that God would realize after a while I was not as good as he initially believed, and he would leave me. Wow! The realization left me speechless.
With this new found appreciation for my lack of trust, I went to the night session titled ‘makeover of the heart.’ We studied the bleeding woman in the Gospel of Mark. The woman had been cast away from society; the world with the doctors and all the science had nothing to offer to her. She heard about Jesus and traveled for miles to see him. She believed she would be healed; she TOLD herself that she would be healed if she could only touch his robe. And she went on this long, difficult journey after Jesus. She was healed, and she was called daughter. In the midst of the study, Rebecca, who was leading the session said the most liberating words I had ever heard. She said, “God said that he would never leave us never forsake us- Hebrews 13:5.” My heart skipped a beat or two. What??? God will never leave us, never forsake us. No matter what????

And then, it all made sense. I was untrusting, which led into me feeling inadequate, not worthy, not whole, and not good enough. I was masking these feelings with an erroneous sense of independence, superwoman style; I can do it all and on my OWN – thank you very much. The truth, I was just realizing, was that I needed to trust God and believe in his promise. I needed to trust he would never leave me. He was my father and my maker. Even more, he had made me perfect, fearfully and wonderfully made, and he had a plan for my life – Psalm 139:14. If the God of the universe had made me, unique, who was I to tell him that he had messed up? Who was I to tell the God of the universe he had gone overboard in the hip department? He had made ME; perfect, according to his plan. As I realized this immense truth, Rebecca was talking in the background about laying down at the cross the issues we were dealing with. She explained how we were covered by God’s righteousness. I sat there waiting my turn to go to the cross. I was sitting there waiting and savoring my new understanding.

As I was waiting, I heard the following words: You are covered in my righteousness; it is over. I was startled. I looked to the people sitting next to me. They were both quiet with their eyes closed waiting their turn to go up to the cross. I sat there. And the message came again, this time I wrote it down on my planner: “I am clothed in his righteousness. It is OVER.” I started crying. I went to the cross and told God, ‘Yes, It is OVER God. It is over.’

Later that evening I approached Rebecca and told her my experience. She asked me to share with the group. The next morning courage had deserted me, and I found myself playing games with God. If you want me to speak, I told him, you will have to get Rebecca to ask me again. And I was sneaky about my plan. I did everything in my power to avoid Rebecca. God had a plan, and Rebecca found me. During the morning session, I was to share what God had done in my life. Shoot! I was about to tell over 400 women that I had struggled with an eating disorder. I was about to become eating disorder chick in their minds. This was my biggest secret. I took pride in hiding it so well. But then, the secret has no power if it is forced to be in the light. I had surrendered my life to God, and I was going to obey. He wanted me to share, so I got myself ready.

Nicole game me the courage to stand in front of four hundred women after finishing her talk by saying, “sharing is counter cultural, but so is God.” I asked God to take over and went to the stage. I vaguely remember what happened. I saw many women crying. I remember telling them that I had been told by many counselors that I was to live with the eating disorder for the rest of my life. Yet, God had told me it was over. I was perfect in his eyes. He had beautifully, fearfully and carefully made me. More things were said, but I do not recall them. I stepped down scared of my own vulnerability and my extreme honesty.

After the morning session many women came to speak to me. They wanted to share with me how God had spoken to them through me. It was so overwhelming, but it showed me how much God is in control of all situations. I understood that there was a purpose to the suffering. There is purpose in all suffering. Even more, God’s healing power does not have limits and his grace is infinite. If sharing with the women that Sunday was the only purpose of eight years with a disorder, I would go through the pain all over again.

After meeting all these women, I went to the beach to pray and think. As I was writing on my journal and processing all that had happened I felt God calling me to ministry. The vision became so clear: I wanted to work for God. I wanted to encourage, teach and lead people into a closer relationship with God. I wanted to speak on behalf of God specifically to women. The call was clear: go to seminary for counseling. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! I almost screamed. ME? Seminary???Imagine that.... if a women's retreat felt churchy to me, how much more seminary - God school???What would my parents think? My friends? I still owe graduate school! Since this was my lame interpretation and my myriad of excuses, I knew the idea to go to seminary was not mine.I went to see Buffy to talk to her about it. I have been praying about it. I told my mother about it, and she said I was born to do this. I have been looking into it, but I am SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO lost. I have told God that I want to be open to his plan. I want to OBEY him without hesitation. If he wants me to go, I will go. I am praying for a sign, a little greater than a burning bush, and with financial aid too. I keep joking with God telling him that a neon sign or perhaps the parting of Lake Norman would do…hehehe. I got the application to Gordon this week, and I should be getting the one for Dallas Theological this week.

Where do I stand now? I am so full of joy. I finally see myself through God’s lens. I have a new found appreciation for my hips and curves. I am enjoying who I am, and I am delighting in my identity in God. I am a DAUGHTER of God. He loves me; he is in control, and he has a plan. I know that there is nothing that can happen that he cannot use to deepen my relationship with him, and I have submitted my life to his plan and his authority. My prayer is that he will let me see a bit of the plan so that I can walk accordingly.

“Fear not for I am with you, be not dismayed for I am your God, I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you, with my victorious right hand.” Isaiah 41:10.

Farewell 2007

As the end of the year comes near, I sit back and analyze the things that I have learned about myself. Here are some of the most important ones.

1. I really love teaching. I also enjoy teaching government and helping students figure out where they stand on various social and political issues.

2. I have also realized that I am in great discontent with the educational system of the US. The focus is on the non-essential, like passing a standardized test, and critical thinking is on its way to extinction.

3. Parents are a new mystery to me. I have been called ‘unfair,’ ‘difficult to deal with,’ and many others for being strict and having high expectations. I have been bullied and cornered for being tough, and I keep wondering since when parents decided to chew on teachers and not their kids.

4. I have understood that I get restless when I am in one place for too long. Traveling is my greatest passion; the thrill of a new place and the excitement over the new sounds smells and tastes has no comparison. I like traveling in a basic and simple type of way: backpack, little belongings, music, a few books, a journal with my good pen and my coffee cup. My next desired move is for the long term to China. While the pieces of this puzzle come together, I will travel the US. Next place: West Coast. I am backpacking through California, Oregon and Washington State for a month during the summer.

5. I am heavily addicted to coffee and politics. I cannot begin the day properly without my triple espresso, and my afternoons are filled with overflowing cups of coffee. NPR wakes me up the morning and keeps me company while I get ready for my early morning- I am at work by 6am.

6. I really do not like children unless they are in my family. My nieces and nephews are the exception. I LOVE babies, and I could be surrounded by millions of them. Children, starting at age three drive me up the wall.

7. It is possible to sing without an accent. I grew up singing, and it is by far one of my favorite activities. I had stopped singing altogether since my move to the US, intimidated by my Spanish accent. I got over my fears and started singing with the Worship team at church as one of the vocalists. It has been one of the most freeing and rewarding experiences of them all.

8. Regardless of popular opinion, Hispanics can be rednecks. Maybe I took my goal of Southern acculturation too far. I now find great joy in watching NASCAR races, and strongly believe there is more to racing than going around a track in circles. Country music is my top choice when it comes to finding a radio station.

9. Loosing dancing to a hip-back injury has been painful. I used to work out and release stress with my crazy dance sessions. I love all kinds of dancing from the obvious- Latin dancing, to belly dancing and other rhythms. I also lost my ability to go on short runs for the sake of clearing my mind. My hips and I miss these exercising sessions greatly.

10. My beloved Robert, the red tomato died after I got t-boned at a busy intersection. I got hurt and experienced first hand the hassles of workers comp paperwork. Since the crash, my left hip has not been the same and my sciatic joint is rotated causing my left leg to pop in and out, which ends up causing great pain. My little VW grey rabbit is filling Robert’s shoes.

11. I have found that growing spiritually is as painful as growing physically. When I was little my legs used to hurt a lot, not that I grew much, but my mom would always tell me these were my “growing pains.” This year has been a long and painful spiritual journey. I am comfortably bigger though. I am no longer intimidated by conversations in which my spirituality gets ‘grilled,’ and God is, now, by far my one priority in life.

12. I am ready for my next intellectual challenge. Teaching has been hard, and becoming comfortable teaching government has been difficult, but I am ready for more. I am ready for endless nights of writing, and mornings filled with coffee and Socratic circles surrounded by people way smarter than me, As in January, I will begin prepping to take the LSAT. I am looking into going to law school in the fall of ’09.

13. I realized this year that being single is a big blessing as it is the best time to serve others wholeheartedly. I have realized that my single status has allowed me to come face to face with God simply asking him to put me in the places where he needs me most. It has been refreshing to acquire this new perspective as my close friends continue getting married.

Christmas Eve- all images

My mom's table and decorations. Dad and I were in charge of all the food.


The family: The cousins, the girls, grandma.


Karaoke time as usual, a big family tradition.

Supporting the Arts

Kelly is back. I have mentioned my twin Kelly many times before. She is a wife, a mother and a great artist. After a leave of absence to take care of her adorable baby girl, Calliope, Kelly is back with her sets of gift cards. Each set has five cards, and each packet is $10. If interested, email kelly directly at redclayhome@gmail.hom, or buy them online at http://redclayhome.etsy.com/.

The Reasons why Baby Jesus kicks Santa's butt

In Colombia, the Catholic country where I grew up, there is no notion of Santa as the Christmas gift-giver. However, Santa is a relatively known figure. Because we live in a ‘global village,’ important people like Santa, a man who lives in the North Pole and flies around on a sled, are well known even in a country where snow never falls. In the mind of Colombian children Santa is a jolly, fat, old guy whose job is to go down the chimney to deliver gifts. He is accompanied by a group of reindeers who “fly” and magically take Santa all over the earth. He is a ‘gringo’ guy who delivers gifts to little gringos.*

*term of endearment used to describe a US Citizen, aka. American.

Santa is a foreign figure. Who is then the one that delivers gifts to Colombian children? The answer is simple: Jesus. Not Jesus the Christ, the one who was nailed to the Cross. Not that Jesus. Christmas brings a milder, softer, less intimidating version of the same Jesus. Baby Jesus is the one with the magnanimous task of delivering the presents, on Christmas Eve, and leaving them on the beds of millions of Colombian children. Baby Jesus is a world traveler. He has to collect the wish letters himself, and then, he has to deliver the gifts without the help of flying reindeers.

How does the process work? When December starts, mothers and fathers in Colombia get their nativity scene out and display it in the living room. Children are then instructed to write a letter addressed to Jesus. On the letter, children are asked to write down their Christmas wishes on the front and their list of wrongdoings for the ENTIRE year on the back. The weapon for parents during this season is to urge their kids to remember that Jesus knows it all, and thus, one MUST write down ALL of one’s wrongdoings. My letters were rather dramatic. I took it seriously and included all kinds of faults, from wrong doing to wrong ‘thinking.” Funnier than the list of wrongdoings is the subsequent apology and promises to ‘never do it again’ that make it to all Christmas letters.

After the letter is written, children leave the letters by the Nativity scene where baby Jesus, more like infant Jesus, picks them up a week before Christmas. This is a rather exhilarating moment in one’s Christmas. No one knows when Jesus is coming for the letter. The wait is the most difficult part. Once Jesus has collected the letter, one prays for Jesus to be able to bring all the goods - mom has previously explained that maybe Jesus will have to choose from the list, for after all, he has to give gifts to all the kids in the world!

Colombian families get together on the 24th at night to celebrate Christmas. There is always a big dinner party, heavy gift exchange, food and dancing. After midnight, families return home. Children go to sleep quickly as they do not want to hinder Jesus’ delivering efforts. Baby Jesus spends Christmas Eve delivering gifts and leaving them on the beds of awaiting children.

All Colombian children who bear the gift of curiosity wake up at about 4am to check out the gifts on their bed. This was my childhood vision on heaven: beautifully wrapped gifts at my feet. After finding the gifts the screaming match begins as one has to show off one’s gifts to the siblings and soon after go show them to the parents. “Oh, that Baby Jesus is so sweet. He brought you all you asked for,” my mother would always say.

It has been eight years of missing baby Jesus. How could I trade a gorgeous looking baby, who personally collects letters and deliver presents, and who can fly thought the entire world in one night, for a jolly, fat old guy who is taken around by reindeers while screaming ho,ho,ho???”

It is the beginning of the end

Gustavo Acosta

Jan 11, 1932- November 29, 2007

If I had to come up with a list of items to describe my grandfather, it would look something like this: terrifying loud snoring, ‘piel roja’ cigarettes, a grey fiat that never worked well but was fixed millions of times, daily grumpiness followed by a smile, a pair of famous jeans worn at all times, a round bald head, big hands constanlty covered with paint, glue or something, and the ability to fix anything and everything.

For eighteen years, I spent every single Saturday at my grandparents. I stopped going not because I was grown, but rather because I moved thousands of miles away.

There is nothing better when one is a kid than to think one is a genius. This is what happened during my childhood. I was not a genius child by any means, but I had a grandfather who took me seriously at a very early age. He wanted to know my opinion about ‘adult’ topics like politics since I was a little girl, so I became intellectually curious very early in life in order to be able to 'show off ' to my grandpa. One of his hobbies was to take a tape recorder and spend whole afternoons recording his grandchildren and their opinions about the world. He created his very own talk show in which we would ask us to discuss the state of the world, create jingles and radio ads for the in between programming, and sing for the audience as we would play the ‘artist of the moment’ role. I still have these tapes; they are hilarious.

Many times Gpa would pick us up after school in his beat up grey fiat, which would have the back seat covered by snacks that gma would send for the drive home, and then, he would spend the afternoons fixing things at my parents’ apartment. He taught us to ride bikes, and he helped us with all imaginable and unimaginable school projects. He built a volcano for my little sister, Maria, and spent hours drawing birds with my sister Natalia. He made costumes, glued flowers, made posters, held study sessions and even reenacted battles. I once convinced him, when I was in 7th grade, to help me build a machine that would wash- dry-and iron clothes all at once. Even though he knew it was impossible, he worked with me for two weeks on that project. We created drawings and even drafted proposals. He never said no.

Today I look back and I realize that ALL of my current achievements have his imprint. Thanks to his Saturday music sessions, in which he would make me close my eyes and guess the composer and name of a given piece, I became the classical music lover that I am. His infinite passion for soccer, and his urge to explain every move and rule at the same time as we attempted to watch the matches, made me the soccer junkie that I am. His never ending desire to share stories and suggest books for weekend and break reading allowed me to become fascinated with words. He was the one who screamed and cheered when I announced I was going against tradition and studying history. It was my biggest joy to see his face filled with pride when I was walking down the stage getting ready to receive my history degree.

This afternoon as I allowed reality to set in, I was saddened by the realization that he is truly gone. I really wanted him to meet my ‘other half;’ I wanted him at my wedding feeling grumpy because he did not want his girl to truly grow up; I wanted my kids to meet him and learn from him. I wanted more karaoke sessions with the two of us screaming Mariachi songs at the top of our lungs. I wanted more reading afternoons when we would sit next to each other with a cup of coffee and not say a word for hours. I wanted more debates about God and religion. I wanted more heated discussions over a soccer play. I wanted more afternoons playing word games and hearing him tell his childhood stories.

I have to say good bye today to one of my favorite people in the entire world. My grandfather was more than my dad’s father. He was my mentor, my friend, my cheerleader, my super hero, and someone that really understood me. I thank God for taking him because he was dying slowly and painfully. I celebrate the life of a man that taught his family to work hard and never stop fighting. He had it all; he lost it all, but he never stopped trying. Above all he was a family man, devoted to all of us. And for this he will always be remembered.