Un Tercio del 3028

Dad's New Book

2008-08-08T00:10:00.006-04:00

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

2008-05-30T18:01:00.003-04:00

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

2008-05-26T19:25:00.002-04:00

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

2007-12-30T23:02:00.000-05:00

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

2007-12-25T15:10:00.000-05:00

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

2007-12-23T15:10:00.000-05:00

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

2007-12-23T14:28:00.000-05:00

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

2007-11-30T22:59:00.000-05:00

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.

Out of Character

2007-08-14T19:18:00.000-04:00

I was on the plane coming back to Charlotte this morning, seat 8E, which means I was stuck in the middle of two people, when this out of the ordinary story happened. As the snob that I am- I am working on it- I told myself I was simply going to read my Vanidades magazine and 'enjoy' the two and a half hour flight. As I opened my magazine, I heard this heart felt sob. The woman on my left was crying furiously! I looked left and right for signs of help-maybe there is someone on this row nicer and better equipped than me to deal with this meltdown- I thought. No such luck; the other women were ignoring the sobbing woman and not acknowledging my wide eyed stare. I took a deep breath and though of my friend Jill. I remembered a story about a lady on a plane, and Jill putting her "gift" to play. I put my hand on the woman's shoulder and asked her, "are you alright?" My hope was that she would nod and stop crying so that I could stop feeling awkward and continue reading my gossip filled-juicy magazine. She turned around to face me and said, "not, really. I am sorry. I just need to cry." Thank God somewhere deep down I got a sensible wire and told the woman, "you cry all you want. I am here. And... we are strapped to these seats for a good long trip." She smiled and took my offer. There was no way back: the woman was CRYING. I asked her what was going on , and she proceeded to tell me that her daughter was in Florida preparing to deliver her five month baby, who was not viable. She, the woman sitting next to me, was on her way to accompany her husband on a last minute emergency colon surgery. She continued to explain that she had flown to Florida to be with her daughter for the painful delivery of a still baby - due to a genetic fluke the baby had formed without lungs- and that the night before of her daughter's labor, she had gotten the call about her husband. As I was listening to her, I got this urge to pray and tell her that God had a plan and everything was going to be alright. For those that don't know me that well, this is considered ODD behavior. I do not like to pray in front of strangers and definitely not in a plane packed with staring people. Not to mention that I struggle with being 'openly Christian.' I decided to ask her for her daughter's and husband's name, and then I asked her if it was ok for me to pray for them. The woman said yes, and right there and then, I put my hand on her shoulder, lowered my head and prayed.

Then, I decided to speak to her from my heart, and I told her that I was a firm believer in things happening for a reason. I told her that perhaps her daughter's induced labor was a blessing in disguise. This baby not being born meant that this little child would not have to suffer a painfully short life hooked to machines and heavily medicated. I also assured her that her daughter was getting a second opportunity to get her life back - She is only 19 and a recovering drug addict. I proceeded to ask her questions about her life, her other children and else, and this woman, and I talked for the entire flight. As we walked away from the plane, I pulled her aside and gave her a big hug. I told her her husband was lucky to have a woman like her and assured her everything was going to be fine. I also promised her to pass her story along to 'my girls' - my life group friends- because I knew they would be delighted to pray for her and her family.

I see this story as another step in the long road of being comfortable in my Christian skin. I have learned this year not only to accept my Christian beliefs but also to speak about them freely, not downplaying them but rather embracing them. As for my life group girls. aka, my praying buddies, I am glad to know they have my 'spiritual' back. Why else would I assure this crying woman that 'my girls' would pray for her?

Lost in Translation

2007-08-13T14:10:00.000-04:00

I vaguely remember my first interpreting job: I was sitting in an immigration office mediating between a US official and the man, who will remain unnamed, who was trying to gain political asylum to stay in the US. I was younger and much more naïve and so the job felt more like an adventure than anything else.

At the start of this summer, I found myself with an endless pool of job opportunities. I was jobless for two months - consequence of the unpaid vacation that comes with teaching, and I decided to email all the interpreting offices in Charlotte. I figured using my bilingualism for pay was a smart move. I landed a free-lance interpreting job with a company that specializes in medical claims and at that moment my summer begun. To the inexperienced eye all Hispanics look the same. We are for the most part a little shorter, curvier and tanner than most, and we all pronounce, with vehemence, consonants when it comes to speaking. Yet, for the Hispanic connoisseur the layers of diversity are visible and rather palpable. I dove- head first- into these layers of diversity this summer as I started working inside the ‘Spanish only’ community of Charlotte. For two full months, I have worked interpreting, mainly, for construction workers their many aches and pains. I have a newly found respect for these men, who both hurt and broken, attempt to be understood. Their stories are often terrifying: these are men who have fallen four stories while installing roofs and with the fall break their wrists, collar bone, and ribs and puncture their liver. Men who, while installing concrete, get hit by metallic hoses on the back of their neck and become numb in all four extremities or start seeing double. Men whose left hand gets trapped under a metallic box, which fell from the top of a ladder, and while retrieving the hand from under the box, pull their skin and muscles to the point that the hand has to be surgically reconstructed. Men who are hurt, but still have small children and wives to feed, as well as rent and bills to pay. Some of these men crossed the border illegally and consequently have no one to turn to.

I spend most of my days in a rehab room serving as a bridge between the dedicated PT specialists and the broken patient, who in many occasions, due to the lack of daycare, has to bring his little child to the therapy session. Hours of “it hurts here,” “I lifted 8 on the left and 5 on the right yesterday,” and “remember to do ‘tres’ sets of six for three minutes” roll by. I listen to both sides. I see how the people on each side of the bridge scramble their brains trying to construct grammatically acceptable phrases that the other side will understand. When a little child comes to therapy, the gulf between the two worlds becomes invisible as both patient and physician get down to the child’s level. Conversations solely based on ‘Dora the Explorer’, the colors in both languages and children songs take control of the hour long appointment. When the child is absent, the conversations are more difficult. All of the therapists I have met until this day try practicing their Spanish. Some of them, like Patty, have the art of r – rolling completely conquered. Others, like Mary, are more than therapists; they are helping hands and loving care takers. I was present two weeks ago when Mary thought one of our patients was getting dismissed from PT on his next doctor’s appointment. She had a gift card and a good bye card for her patient’s wife. I witnessed the exchange of gifts, sloppy goodbyes, and the hand-shakes. Mary is one of a kind, she smiles warmly at me at the end of every appointment and shakes my hand with the usual “thanks for your help today’ while behind her pictures of her ‘dismissed’ patients decorate the room.

Some days I get to interact with the case managers: they are the true heroes of these sad stories. These men and women are the voice of the broken men; they have to provide accurate care for these workers that are hurting. The question is not whether these men flew, walked, or swam here or whether they were simply born on this soil- that is an entirely different story. The issue is that these men are in pain, broken, alone and they are completely lost in translation. The case manager fights the fight every day to ensure these men get glued back together, and in the process, make sure the men’s families get taken care of.

Today I am starting my last week at this job. I have to get back to the surface and return to the world of teaching. I walk away from this post thrilled by the many layers of the culture that I belong to. Humbled by the experience after so many patients and doctor’s asked me how I had crossed the border. Thankful that I never had to cross it. Grateful that I am no longer lost in translation.

The reason why I am not considered 'HANDY'

2007-07-20T22:40:00.000-04:00

ADD is an interesting thing to have when on vacation. I am always trying to find something new to do. I am incessantly walking around my apartment trying to create a mess to later have to clean it up, or I come up with all kinds of insane projects just for the sake of not getting bored. In one of my 'I need to come up with something' attacks, I decided to paint some walls in my apartment. I went to the paint store and showered John, the store manager, with really silly questions, like 'what would like for a wall that looks like this and that.' He found me fascinating, alien like fascinating. After three trips I was ready with the paint. The night before the paint job, I decided to relocate the pain containers so that they would not spill. HA! They spilled alright. A quart of gold paint fell on my cream colored carpet. I spend four hours scrubbing paint wearing just my underwear (I had to throw away my formerly black pants and socks), and by 12am I was all yellow and tired while the stain smiled at me victoriously.

Thinking about ditching the project seemed logical, but then the stain would win. And I do not like to lose. Jess came over the next day, thank God because she kept me on task, and we got the job done. I like how my little apt looks with the new paint, and I feel rather accomplished for having gotten the project finished.

The stain? Well, it kind of grew on me. I see it as a reminder of why I failed pre-school when I was little...

Oh! It is over...

2007-06-13T20:11:00.000-04:00

Roller coaster would be the best way to describe this crazy year: ups and really low, lows. I had many days of enthusiasm and love of teaching followed by many more days of complete and absolute disgust over the educational system of this nation. I was challenged intellectually, spiritually, emotionally and physically. I am a new person altogether, and I feel that I grew up a decade instead of ten months. I am thankful for many of my students that touched my life and left an indelible mark. I am also saddened by my inability to be the best teacher I could be on many days when I just wanted to live under a rock.

Some of my students inspired me to seek a different approach to teaching; some of them encouraged me to get out of bed and give my all. My T.A will never be forgotten. He is a young man of immense promise, and he will accomplish great things. All in all, I was honored to be their teacher.

Our Help is Needed

2007-06-04T19:05:00.000-04:00

I went to a fund raiser for the Sudan last night, and I had the opportunity to hear from Sudanese refugees and from ministers and missionaries that work in the field. This organization, CSI, works directly in Sudan and they do four things: they pay to free slaves (non-Muslim Sudanese who are enslaved); they help the slaves travel from the war infested North into the so called 'peaceful' south; they give them a kit aka. sack of hope to equip them for the trip to the south, and they also provide seeds and else for families to be able to sustain themselves once they get to the southern region.

The sacks of hope are $40 a piece, and each sack contains: a mosquito net, cooking pot, blanket, plastic sheeting, plastic water jug, fish hooks and a hand held sickle. There are NO administrative fees or middle man fees. The $40 cover the sack and the direct transport of it. There is no going of the resources to the government or government agencies. CSI is in the Sudan; we met the people last night and we saw the pictures. The content of the sack might sound weird, but these people have nothing and they have to walk a LOT, not to mention malaria is the number one killer - hence the mosquito nets.

The webpage so that you can see first hand is http://www.csi-int.org/csi_sack_of_hope.php.

On Memorial Day

2007-05-29T14:01:00.000-04:00

“Today is yet another impossibly hot day here in Iraq, and I am working toward making appropriate use of this time. As you have gathered, I am certain, the military here is fulfilling more precisely what may be considered a peace keeping mission rather than the initial assault/combat mission. This is good. The only major drawback seems to be that these days of separation stretch into near infinite lengths of time. I am distracted increasingly by dreams and waking thoughts of my family and friends and home in general.” Iraq, July 11, 2003.

Yesterday I found myself digging through all my letters trying to find this one letter that Erik had written me while he was in Iraq. I felt a cold shiver reading his stories, and I was thankful. Thankful to know that he returned to us safely after his time in Iraq; thankful that his long days of separation from his family and friends are over; and thankful that he has reunited with his lovely wife.

My big Scottish brother today is your day. I thank you for fulfilling your duty and for serving your country; I salute you for having the courage to put your life on the line. Most importantly, I thank you for being a wonderful husband and friend to my Michelle, and I also thank you for being the wonderful father you are to Jack and Ian. Those two wonderful creatures reflect your character and selfless love.

May you keep growing as a father and husband, and may you find strength in unbelievable places and people as you continue to settle in a foreign land. In less time than you may think, you will feel at home.

A loaded MOTHER's Day

2007-05-13T16:13:00.000-04:00

Michelle and Momo

Katie and Mason

Kelly and Calliope

Michelle and Jack (waiting for Ian)

Amy and Marlow

In the last eight years I have seen these women become mothers, and I continue to be amazed by their innate ability to raise smart, lovable, energetic and God loving children. What I have liked the most of this transformation is the complete and genuine loss of self. Their children come first regardless of the circumstances. These women are, in their unique ways, a pleasure to watch. Michelle D. builds houses for her sons out of the craziest materials, and the boys get to enjoy the luxuries of a 'gated community' in the middle of the living room. Sometimes as I watch the pictures, I wish I could be one of her children. Michelle Bollman is disciplined, which I love, and an amazing teacher: Momo is by far one of the smartest little girls I have EVER met. She can carry a conversation without worrying about her lack of world experiences, and she is a genuinely noble spirited little girl. Amy is the mom all people want: she is laid back and crazy about her kids. After all the yearly Halloween pictures, I continue to be amazed by her ability to create the coolest customes. Her children are adorable, cute and have the greatest personalities. Katie is the perfect mom for boys; she is hands on and not afraid of getting dirty or running around like crazy. I have yet to see Kelly in her maternal role, but I beam with joy thinking that my twin has a child of her own. I cannot wait until I get to see Natalia, Maria and Jamie in their motherly roles.... For now ladies, I raise my usual cup of coffee to you. I admire you all very much, and I pray I get to be a little like all of you when my time comes.

Three amazing little girls

2007-05-13T15:51:00.000-04:00

Calliope Anne Wilkes

Gemma Claire Nichols

Madelyn Isa Bollman

I know some of you have been following the family saga, and might be wondering what happened with all of those babies that were due this year. Well, I present thee with three adorable little girls who are very dear to my heart. I was thrilled every time I heard the baby being born was a GIRL; finally some girls were added to the bunch of little ones.

The oldest of these three little girls is Calliope: Kelly and Micah's first little munchkin. The second oldest is Maddie: Jeremy and Michelle's second baby girl. The youngest of the grandchildren is Gemma, Amy and Joseph's fifth child.

I have met Maddie, and she is ADORABLE. She looks like her mom, Michelle, but she has her dad's eyes. She has a very calm spirit, and she is going to be a total beauty. I have yet to meet Gemma and Calliope, but as soon as school gets out, I will drive to TN to meet these new additions to the family. Yes, the family keeps growing and the babies keep getting cuter.

Super Hero scores again!

2007-04-28T13:20:00.000-04:00

http://amazon.com - Senales by Mauricio Acosta

Growing up I always saw my dad as my super hero. He could do no harm; he knew everything that was needed to know, and he was wicked cool. His only mistake during my childhood years was so big that I still remember it: he decided to get me a bright blue superman lunchbox instead of the strawberry shortcake one I was dying to have. My dad is a wholesome man. He has faults like all humans do, but his qualities are greater, so one tends to forget his shortcomings. He is sharp with numbers and critical thinking; he is amicable and a people magnet, and uncommon to many other engineers, he loves to write. Dad grew up surrounded by books, my gpa is a reading addict, and in his young age, dad, was blessed with an awesome imagination. He developed his gift all of his life, and he finally got the wheel moving. His first novel, Senales (signals) was published little longer than a month ago.

Wen I first heard of dad writing, I was not fully convinced. I mean the man has an imagination, but a long novel? He sent me the draft to edit, and I couldn't put it down. I finished the book in one seating. Was it daughterly pride and support? Not at all. The book is exquisitely written with lively descriptions. The prose is so delicate that one feels, smells and sees what the characters are experiencing. The book is real in the best magical realism way. The setting? Miami, Florida. The plot? A Colombian man who leaves his motherland with the hope of becoming economically affluent, after fulfilling the American dream, so that he can go back home and marry his sweetheart. The reality? Well, reality bites. The main character struggles and so does the reader. I found myself in tears; filled with anger and expectation, and yet at the end of the book, I felt vindicated and fulfilled.

And I had thought my daughterly pride had been fulfilled after this man had managed to move a whole family across the ocean and had provided food, shelter and three college educations. He continues to surprise me, and I am left breathless at the character of this man that I am blessed to call dad.

For those of you interested in supporting this new adventure, the book is now available on http://www.amazon.com/. search for Señales by Mauricio Acosta Uribe.

Of crashes and driving phobias

2007-04-07T23:00:00.000-04:00

I was in a big car crash two weeks ago. I got t-boned, or so my students called it. In a matter of seconds, Robert, my little red Ford, and my companion of many years collapsed and was declared total loss. The windshield shattered; the airbags popped out; the doors were broken and the paramedics could not get me out of the car. I was lost and could not breathe, and yet I found the energy to keep asking the hovering medics to call Mr. Wiggs, who happens to be my boss, and I snapped at the sweetest medic guy, who kept asking for my full name and date of birth, for not wanting to get my lesson plans from the trunk. I guess teaching is truly a full time job. I spent a few hours waiting with my principal, Kate, and my close friend Jessica, in the ER to see if I had fractured my left arm; thank God I did not break a single bone. My neck, back and left shoulder hit really hard, and I couldn't walk properly for a good week. I have recovered, but now I owe a lot of money because in America ambulances are for the rich - $500 a one way ride, and emergency rooms charge $300 to take a person's vitals, never mind the person was not seen by a doctor. Thanks a lot to state officials who decided not to include emergency coverage for state employees.

It was a scary experience, so many people, memories and moments flashed trough my mind. Scary to realize, after seeing my car, that I could have died in a matter of seconds without saying many things and many goodbyes. I have been petrified of driving, and I have avoided all detours. I thought I was in for a long driving phobia until this weekend, KT, a good friend of mine gave me the little push I needed. With his share of wisdom under my belt, I accomplished a great task: I drove in the interstate. Well, I first asked my mom to take me to have dinner with my former roommates and closest college friends and she refused...I ended having to drive to down town Miami on my own. I was SO scared. I was sweating, and shaking, and I had never hugged the steering wheel so vehemently. In the end, I made it to my final destination. Granted, I almost wet my pants, and I cried when I saw Marcela, but I did it, and I felt accomplished. I am going back to Charlotte tomorrow, and I really hope my courage lasts me at least 'til after I drive home from the airport!!!

Getting ready for the New Year Fiesta

2006-12-30T19:07:00.000-05:00

New Year is by far my favorite holiday; it has been my favorite since I was a little girl. This holiday has always involved tons of family, games, loud singing and dancing, crazy competitions between nuclear families, and of course the odd rituals. 2007 is right around the corner, and we, my immediate and extended family, are ready to 'throw the house out the window'-Colombian style to kiss 2006 good bye. It is a big celebration, and this year we are celebrating with over forty Colombians. My cousins flew in from London for the feast, quite a treat, for we had not seen each other in three years, and we used to celebrate this holiday together. It was their family tradition to fly from England to Colombia every year. As always, the suitcases are packed, so we can all go running around the neighborhood at midnight for traveling luck. The yellow underwear has been purchased for luck in the love department, the potatoes have been pealed for financial luck, and of course the grapes are ready to be eaten as soon as the clock hits 12am: 12 grapes, 12 wishes, 12 months. I am resting tonight in order to be prepared for the feast tomorrow. Pictures will come soon. Happy New Year!!!

I lost the bet...It was a beautiful BOY!

2006-12-10T13:48:00.000-05:00

Katie rocked the house, as usual, and she and her husband Ryan welcomed son Gage the Friday of Thanksgiving weekend. It was a long wait for Katie, and she worked really hard. We are all happy and proud to show off the new addition. In the pictures, lovely Gage and his big brother Mason and dad Ryan. The last one? All the munchkins minues Ian and Gage, who are the newest family members. And this picture is about to change, and get larger... three more babies are on the way!

My first visitors: El 3028 re-unites

2006-12-09T15:56:00.000-05:00

One of the hardest things about my move to Charlotte was losing my roommates. After all, Carolina and Marcela had become a vital part of my everyday life. After three and a half years of living together, they had learned to recognize all of my idiosyncrasies, and they even knew how to handle me even in the worst of my days. Carolina bought the plane tickets, and they came to see me last weekend. I was so excited when Carolina told me the news. My first visitors! All I have to say is that it was heavenly. They helped me to grade and did a good job at i; (lately it seems that all individuals who want to hang out with me have to pitch in and grade); we saw the city north&south, east&west; ate good food and had a great time. It was hard to see them leave, but we will soon re-unite in Miami, as I prepare myself to go to my parents’ for the Christmas break!

Waiting

2006-11-24T10:35:00.000-05:00

Two summers ago in Fl when Mason was a baby

At Kelly's wedding sporting her 'bean'

Last time I saw her: at Jamie's wedding

All the girls centuries ago with no babies

Katie is in the hospital right now delivering her second baby. It has been two days of hard work, and all of us are praying and waiting. Kate is a strong woman, and she has Amy with her to help. I am excited and thrilled to have a new baby in the family. Michelle is betting for a boy; I am going against her and betting is a girl!!! Katie, we are praying and waiting.

Being Thankful

2006-11-24T00:49:00.000-05:00

Turkey day is indeed a big day: a day to be thankful for many, many things. I am grateful for the family I have, and for the strength that we have been given to deal with the many struggles and hassles that have come with our lives as immigrants. We have had to ‘fight the fight’ as a team, and this road would have been impossible to travel if we weren’t so close. The best illustration of how this family rocks my world comes on Turkey day afternoon as my whole family sat down to grade with me. Dad took care of the essays. He read them two and three times checking for everything from grammar to historical accuracy. The rest of the bunch took charge of the number department: they calculated grades and put them on the grade book. So much work was done this afternoon. I am beaming with joy as I look at my graded papers with dad’s comments on the front. The evening was spent eating delicious food, for we continue trying to imitate the American tradition. They turkey has been the norm, but the side dishes are a tad more colorful and ethnic than the traditional. After dinner, we played cards for a while and we suffered a few injuries- mom is quite competitive. It is good to sit back and watch. See them interacting, listen to their conversations, and thank God for the blessings that they represent in my life. I am blessed to be a part of this bunch.

The Chase for the Cup

2006-11-19T15:45:00.000-05:00

“Ms. Acosta, you can’t like Nascar; that’s for rednecks and... and... well... you are too ethnic for that.”

Well, I am indeed a bit too "ethnic" for most of my kids, but I am in a process of hard core acculturation as I become a real southerner. I am lovin’ fried chicken, country music and Nascar, no doubt an interesting blend when thinking of myself in ‘ethnic’ terms. The point is that this weekend the infamous Race for the Cup, that has had me glued to the TV and screaming at cars on Sundays, comes to an end. To celebrate such joyous event, I created a game called chase for the cup in my civics class. In order to close the unit on state and local government, I had the kids in teams competing for ‘the cup.’ They had to accomplish a variety of tasks from graphic organizer and venn diagrams to cartoons and ads. The game was fun. The kids got into the competition, and the ‘racing’ was fabulous. The winning team received the cup, which contained brownies, gummy worms, extra credit points and ‘out of homework’ passes. But RELAX, the losers also got some prizes (lollipops in the shape of skulls) because in AcostaLand everyone is a winner -that is my slogan, hahaha. Here are some pictures of the event.

Feeling like an outsider

2006-11-12T15:37:00.000-05:00

So after reading Sarah’s blog, I realized that I have been dealing with the ‘outsider complex” too. Lately I have been thinking about loneliness a whole lot especially because the majority of the people I know are seriously dating, engaged, married or waiting for their first, second or fifth baby. I love all of them dearly, and I love to see them happy in their various life stages. I also treasure their encouraging words when my relationships end, which happens every so often, but the truth is that no matter how sensitive and inclusive of ‘single’ people they are, I feel like an outsider and well, I am. I don’t know what it is to be in a long and committed relationship; I don’t know what is to be married. When friends get married, they stop being ATM style accessible. No longer can they travel, eat out, stay the night or go out. They have to go back home to their new nest. When your closest friends have babies…well, that is another story all together. They are no longer individuals; they are moms and wives. I love to see this transition; they have something of their own. They have a life to nurture and love. They are forever changed, and it is beautiful but it feels lonely.

I wonder if I am cut for marriage. I feel anxious most of the times when I think about being 24 pushing 25 and without a prospect.I long for the relationship but it scares me. Committing to someone for the rest of my life? Just the thought gives me the chills. I can’t even get pass the four month mark in my relationships! On my American-white side of the equation that is my life, I am the only one of my sisters that remains unmarried, and of course without any children. It feels really lonely. I remember hiding in the bathroom and crying during Jamie's reception...Now all of them but Jamie are pregnant or with kids.http://gypsy.chattablogs.com I love the munchkins with a passion, and when I feel I couldn't love anyone as much as I love them, one more comes along, and I realize that I sure do have more room. As selfish as it may sound, I breathe with relief when I think my sisters Natalia and Maria are not yet married- though they will probably walk down the aisle before me. I keep ‘psychologizing’ myself concentrating on my need to embrace this stage of my life: starting my career and joining the labor force. I should rejoice in the fact that I have a job, and I am slowly working on standing on my feet and providing for myself. I know I must treasure this moment because perhaps one day I will wake up surrounded by kids hoping I could remember how it felt to be alone.

Treatment started today

2006-10-09T19:24:00.000-04:00

Saturday morning; I decided to spice up the day with some
Mariachi - Karaoke. Mom and G'parents were really good sports!

My dad and his dad -G'pa at my graduation. Spring'05

As most of you know, Gpa has been diagnosed with cancer. This news has been hard and difficult to handle, but there is a plan for us all, or so I hope, and my family and I are choosing to trust God on this one. At the beginning doctors were not positive at all, but now they have offered G'pa the option of treatment: chemotherapy. G'pa is a trooper, and he has decided to take the chance. The treatment started today. Please keep him in your prayers and thoughts. He is very strong (I like to think I got that from him), but this illness has taken a toll on his spirit. He needs as much prayer and postivie energy as possible. Thanks beforehand for your prayers :)

For those of you that don't know, my grandfather is sort of like my super hero. I am extremely close to him and consider him one of my best friends. He taught me all about classical music, history and politics. I became a historian because of him, and he was the most excited out of my whole family when I chose my major. I took after him in my infinite love for reading and writing. He is a sarcastic, smart and loving man, and he occupies a big, big place in my heart. I admire, love profoundly and respect this man, and I feel immensly honored to call him g'pa.

Gold fish what???

2006-10-08T21:52:00.000-04:00

My mom wanted a good explanation for my classroom rules, and I think she has a point. If you are not me, or my kids, you have no way of understanding them. Mom, this is for you.

1.Gold Fish - Mechanism to ge them to be quiet. They need to be so QUIET that if I wanted to, I could hear a gold fish fart. Kids love this one, and all I have to say is gold fish. No 'shhhhhhhh", "guys!!!!," "excuse me...."

2. Gigo - Garbage in / Garbage out. Kids are allowed to drink water, soft drinks, or COFEE in my class. The condition is that they take their trash to the trash can or somewhere else. I am the teacher NOT the housekeeper.

3. You get it / You read it: I hand out a lot of articles and handouts because our textbooks are not the best. I tell the kids that I don't kill trees for the fun of it, and so it is their JOB to read all I give them. They are to INTERACT with the paper. Make the tree's death worthwhile.

4. Read them and Weap: I have a graded folder and the kids collect their graded stuff. They are not allowed to look at other people's grades or comments.

5. Pay the price: If you don't abide by my simple rules, you can switch to another class. Better explained: "my way or the highway."

Now you are a part of my learning community...watch out!

My cave- S17

2006-10-05T20:20:00.000-04:00

Finally the computer stopped acting up, and I am being able to post pictures of my place of residence. I spend at least 12-13 hours a day in this place. It is my little hole, and I love it. It is still a work in progress; my kids are illustrating the bill of rights tomorrow, so the walls will be more colorful next week!

The Killer

2006-10-01T22:38:00.000-04:00

A lot of people have written me telling me how awesome the roach drawing is. Well, I thought that it was important to clarify the information. It is not a drawing. What I posted was the design for a machine that exists. Justin made me a roach killer. He designed the machine and built it (see attached pics). He took a small industrial vac and somehow attached the killer blades to the ending hose, so whenever I suck a bug, particularly a roach, it chops it into little pieces, leaving roach dust as the end result.

Of course the machine works wonderfully if the user has a brain. A week ago I found a roach on my bathroom ceiling. It was 5am, and I was trying to get ready for work. I freaked out as usual and decided to deal with the roach myself without calling people. Well, I plugged the hose in the wrong hole, and instead of sucking the roach, the machine started to blow the roach all over the place. It was like super-roach with incredible flying capabilities: from the ceiling to the floor, to the toilet seat, to the tub. I was screaming like a mad woman and crying while cussing Justin in all languages. He had promised a working machine, and not the machine was making the moster even more powerful! I finally turned the machine off, and immediately, I realized the mistake. I switched the hose to the right hole and charged against the roach for the second time. This time around I got it! I was shaking, crying and still screaming….

After work I called Justin, who almost died laughing at my mistake, and I asked for his rescue. I was unable to open the machine to figure out if it had killed the monster. Well, I loaded the machine in my car and drove to Justin’s. He opened the machine, and guess what???the roach was not there! I am hoping it got stuck in the internal engine, which we cannot reach. Anyways, as predictable, upon hearing the news of the missing roach, I lost it, and once again there were the tears and terror.

A few snapshots of my life in NC

2006-09-24T18:57:00.000-04:00

I am still adjusting to this new life, and all I have to say is that managing my time is the greates hassle of all. I am most of the time grading, planning or reading what I am suppossed to be teaching. I am, as a result, tired beyond words. Some days I wake up with the sudden realization that I want to quit and work at a normal 8-5 job that allows me to have a life. But, then I have glorious 'aha!' moments that tell me this is the right path. Last week one of my students told me that he was proud of me because I was only hispanic he knew that didn't work in construction, and he said that I gave him a real life example of the fact that he could go to college. Other kids now come to me for love advise (me???), after school tutoring or breakfast and morning coffee. I have come to realize during these past few weeks that I may be exhausted, but it is worth it. It is all about the relationships and serving those kids. After all, that should be the main purpose of my life: to serve those that need to be served the most, for keeping God's blessings locked inside of me would be a waste of grace. So, here I am in front of the computer planning for next week. I have not had a break, but I am being a positive camper thinking that it is all for the better. I am sharing a few pics that Jess took during her bday and during one of the gator games. Thumbs up for my fellow Charlotarians who make this journey so much more bearable!

The Latest technology to deal with my irrational fear of roaches...

2006-09-12T00:14:00.000-04:00

I have been attacked by roaches three different times during the last three weeks, and I have been close to having a heart attack. The last life-death encounter took place on Sunday at 12am in the morning, as I was trying to go to bed after a great day at the lake and a crazy night of planning. As I approached my bathroom, I found the great grandmother of all roaches lounging on its back on my bathroom floor. I freaked out, and I am still a little embarrassed at the childish manner in which I reacted. This drawing comes from Justin, who has suffered the consequences of two of the three of my irrational panic attacks. As the good engineer that he is, he has devised a plan to help me overcome my fobia. I am still waiting for the device and crossing my fingers so that I do not get attacked ever again!

Brian's Wedding

2006-09-04T09:52:00.000-04:00

My cousin Brian got married this weekend to his lovely girlfriend of two years, Erin. The wedding was at a gorgeous estate in Charlotte, and the food was delicious. My grandfather wanted me to represent the Carvajal family, and because my parents could not come, I had to go by myself. I thought the event was going to be a bit boring-due to the alone factor- but I ended up having a blast. Nothing better than an Italian-Colombian wedding, I danced so much my feet still hurt.

A month of falling for Charlotte

2006-09-03T09:29:00.000-04:00

Well, it has been almost a month in this new city that I now call home. This Friday I paid my rent for the first time, and following I made checks for the phone, utilities and a variety of other goods. This adult life business is interesting to say the least. Ok, let’s see if I can tell a few good tales in the abridged version. I am now working on being less wordy and more direct and to the point. I have come to realize that I talk a lot, and although my stories tend to be colorful, my verbal downpour is not appreciated by many…

1) My department is thrilled to have a Hispanic on board. They have sent all their Spanish speaking kids to my room to greet me and talk (a lot). I find it amusing. The other teachers are also sending kids my way, and the office has started to page me to translate for lost parents. Nice. There is a big sense of accomplishment in the fact that I am the only Hispanic (out of 3) that teaches a subject other than Spanish. My department is AWESOME and supportive, and they are starting to understand the fact that I refer to myself as the brown woman. Good times.

2) Kids are great, and I love them. I have two sections of C&E for 10th grade, a section of home room with 9th graders, and two sections of AP geography for seniors. Fun. The senior kids are angels. There is power in being young and female…they will do ANYTHING I say….so far not a single discipline issue. Pray to God things don’t change. I am overwhelmed by the amount of work I have to do. I pull 10-11 hr days at school followed by little food and heavy studying. But as they say, this too shall pass.

3) Having Liz, Jess and Laura (my girlfriends from grad school) nearby is heavenly. We established our ‘weekly family dinners,’ so we see each other + everybody’s special other, every week. It is the best replica of family time. It is a relief to hear they are going through the same chaos: the county wide system crashing and not having class list s the first day; the schedules being all messed up and else.

4) Developing a southern accent, listening to country, watching NASCAR races, and eating southern food is a plus. Yes, imagine adding a southern flare to my already thick Spanish accent, funny falls short describing this phenomenon.

Ok, so this is as abridged as humanly possible for me. Pictures of my classroom will soon follow. I still have to recruit a tall person that can help me hang the last three posters. Having pony leggs is rather annoying when hanging stuff in those classroom walls.

My new Apartment

2006-08-18T10:17:00.000-04:00

After a lot of moving around and re-arranging everythig, this is how my new house looks. Most of the art comes from Kelly who has showered me with really cool gifts for the last six years. Her webpage is redclay.chattablogs.com. The look of this little apartment is thanks to my parents who worked really hard to get this ready for me, and I am beyond thankful. There are a few things on my whish list i.e. stools for my kitcken counter, a night stand, acool chair for my studio...but I will be getting these as the paychecks start coming.

Good Bye to Gainesville

2006-08-11T14:53:00.000-04:00

I graduated, and consequently, I was forced to become an adult and get a real life job. I got a high school teaching job in Charlotte, and next week I will start officially planning for AP Human Geography and Civics-Economics. With the new job came the move to the new city. I left Gainesville on July 31st: the packing up and moving process was rather hectic and chaotic. Thank God my parents and sisters came up to help me, and Maclau and Marce, my roommates, were also around to help. Dad got his greates wish; he rented a U-Haul trailer and we packed the 5 by 8 monster to the limits. It was sad and difficult to say good bye to so many memories. After all, three years in the same place is a lot of time. I cried emptying my room and painting the walls, and I had a hard time driving the seven hours to Charlotte after all that crying. My parents, the best in the world, spent a whole week with me in Charlotte. Dad spent his entire vacation working hard on my new place. We got new furniture and decorations in Atlanta, and both Mom and Dad worked 24/7 for a whole week to make sure the place was ready.

Celebrating Mike Solich

2006-07-17T14:42:00.000-04:00

A week ago one of my closest friends from the M.Ed program passed away. Mike drowned after jumping into the Estero River on the west coast of Florida. Solich graduated from the Proteach program with me, and he had planned to move back home, Cape Coral, to begin his teaching career. Mike had a full life. He loved the outdoors, fishing, line dancing (even though he was very bad at it), boating, fishing and most importantly teaching. We became friends one afternoon as he, Jessica and I prepared our interview with teach for America. Mike loved his career choice. He was able to convey his love for social justice and his passion for teaching. Solich was a fun guy; he was genuine; and he found humor in every situation. I have millions of shared memories that bring a smile to my face, and I will always remember how I almost got arrested for agreeing to jump in the school fountain with him to celebrate our graduation from UF. Aside from being a frustrated dancer, Miguelito was a Spanish learner, a loyal friend, a great companion for soccer watching and a match maker. Mike may be gone, but his spirit and influence will live in me for years to come. Michael Solich, you will never know how many lives you changed.

(Aug 13, 1983 - July 6, 2006).

Angelica Acosta, M.Ed. hehehe

2006-07-17T14:13:00.000-04:00

After ten months and a a few thousand dollars of debt, I say good bye to the PROTEACH program at the University of Florida. I walk away with a cool suffix after my name, many great memories, and the satisfaction of having met incredible people and having learned to be a better teacher. I was pushed to the limit, but I feel that I not only became a better educator, but also abetter person.

Good Bye to GHS

2006-07-17T13:44:00.000-04:00

I definately took a leave of absence from this blog writing business, but I have been reminded by some people to keep up the writing job. There are so many things to tell. For starters, the internship ended, which means that I completed my greatest requirement to finish the master's in education. I cannot begin to explain how much I miss my kids. They were crazy, energetic, funny and full of life. It took me a couple of weeks to get used to the whole- you are not a teacher anymore. I have gone to visit them twice, and their crazy response when they see me, lets me know that we truly bonded. They scream, jump on me, and I have seriously felt my back breaking...