Manual for a cat falling for a writer

He is like the scent of an apple, his voice like it’s juice when bitten.

Glasses, the cat wishes it could guess and see the projection of what they look at, but not even those glases know the secet mind crouching behind them, or that they might never touch the lips below, perhaps only if they could get to reach that skin, skin of grapes and jungle, the glasses might reach it, only if they could rest upon those lips with one side, as the brain thinks like a storm, floating still infront of the typewriter; the cat spends hours near the writer, dreaming of been under a treehouse watching and listening to the rain. The keys feel his finger tips, type, typing at the rythm of a music which reaches the membrane, those ears that listen to love songs without knowing what they say or mean; the cat wishes they knew, and that they were listening because of her, of her irresistible green eyes as she meows -Lift up, open up and say one thing and then two, followed by notes and poetry, and times of silence which mean more than all these songs, for they will be ours.

But the fingers they type, and the eyes stare at words made of the same ink as the writer’s lashes, same as the still line of his closed mouth. The cat stands and walks around, she knows it well -holding my cells from stretching up infront of yours, calming my whyskers from loosing elegance when light runs over you and through my eyes.

Her heart beats, screaming her sense, a window it’s opened. As that soul stays as serious as himself, without giving her a gaze, he choses a song and plays it, suddenly smiling; he types a letter and turns around. But she has scaped.

Tags: cat, Manual for a guy falling for a girl, writer

Missing my brothers and sisters, my friends.

At the beginning I didn´t know, perhaps I had never thought about it, even when I was warned… to my heartache and joy, every friend remains in my heart as an everlasting one. Those travelers. They are always making me love them, we share more than just same time and place, we share The Word, same passions, dreams and memories filled up with Truth and Life, and somehow we get to become friends. Many times, when I´ve finally realized how much I want to let them paint my soul, we have to say goodbye. And I understand they printed in me more than I thought I had allowed.

No matter if It´s a tender and strong Dutch friend I spent time with for four months, or if I just shared words in full and rare-as-me joy for less than a day with a guy from Georgia, the country. It´s the same if they are two guys and a psychologist from the north of my own country, or the ten warriors from Mississippi I so loved in a week´s challenge. No matter how many they are or what the stories we share together could be, I can´t even imagine how to forget them when we have to part. I haven´t met as enough YWAM teams as to not been able to count with my fingers, but from a teenager of Mazatlan beach who took me into his group when I was alone, to three cute Korean that showed me how to eat 3 pesos tacos and say “eres chido” in their language, I miss everybody in every team, and still feel so privileged.

Two Canadian girls showed me how to spend a weekend together, making it seem like so much more than just three days. Some people have told me that I should get used to it, because life as a missionary is always mixed with this hello and bye, but how could I? How could I not cherish in my heart each person I love even when I know soon we will have to say goodbye? People like my friends Terese and Rod from Australia, people like my teachers Mary Jean Powers and Joseph Watson, how could I love their heart in a way that mine didn´t weep when having to part. Is this space for them in my soul going to find a filling top? I hope it never does.

I don´t care if it feels like that at that point, because the joy of seeing how original, and creatively loving God is, trough each one of His daughters and sons, is so much greater than any pain farewell might bring when we don´t know if we´ll ever meet again. We all are brothers and sisters. I know we will find each other at least one more time. And that only one more time will be forever.

I don´t know yet if in our Brand New City we´ll remember each other, but what I know, is love will remain eternally. So I propose this. Let´s love each other as strongly as ever could we have imagined, let´s love each other in such a hughe way that we can meet again and rejoice together when it all passes away.

I thank God for the amazing friends I can always find in the staff from YWAM Pachuca México, and for Janyce and Kerry Olson. Los amo más allá de lo imaginable. Y si Dios quiere, espero que algún día yo también pueda ir y decirles a ustedes, see you soon! Y que siempre me recuerden.

Tags: farewell, friends, love, missionaries, Pachuca, three pesos tacos, YWAM

Fifty People, One Question: London

He thought of an answer, but felt unsatisfied and doubt for long minutes, without knowing what to say.

Piano music background. Humans, we move in rainy seasons and dark tunnels filled up with beauty and dirt. There´s a joy to soft sadness, which whisper can be heard trough the spirit and senses, it´s a joy of finding the music where there was only misery, and letting yourself be guided towards its light.

A girl smiles at the camera, she´s a private place, like all of us. We all have hidden hopes. “Where would I wish to wake up tomorrow…” that´s the question this time.

“Maybe the French revolution” says the historian. “New York” is the answer of a man who´s face is so difficult to understand, like if he was under a suffering he could only suffer better in a faraway place. For sure, some of them say by the beach. Another answers “With lots of money…” and laughs, and loses his charm, with an empty glance.

Waking up without the cast in my left leg, walking normally and sparing the three weeks I have left to heal… that could be an answer for me. But not, I have first written about something greater.

“A planet made of cheese” says a teen girl, and I say Yeah, that´s right! “In space…” answers a kid, then hesitates and changes the answer to not knowing where “In a pink bubble floating above the clouds filled with Ping-Pong balls” a man who´s carrying his kid on the shoulders, my final guess: he´s an artist. An honest young guy answers “In my own house… if there were no limits anywhere, I would still stay where I am now”.

ESTA ES MI RESPUESTA: I wish I could wake up surrounded by poetry, in summer season, linen curtains and white sheets; my love’s arm, which I don´t know yet, around me. There´s a flavour of pancakes and purple homemade scents floating up in beams of sun; our young children giggling at the kitchen of our home; I place my fingers in my husband´s hair, as if caressing the softness of a lake during sunrise. He´s already awake, and smiles. It´s Saturday. Cherry blossoms ever blooming in our garden.

That would be my answer

“Paradise”

Paradise was the first spoken thought and answer of the guy with deepest voice. I wish for paradise myself, and I have already known how it will be like, in a few years, before thoroughly going to heaven.

And now I wake up again, September 2011, my left leg heals under the cast, I´m enjoying my time; writing, walking bit by bit again. At ease, knowing my future is resting in strong, beautiful caring hands. I live in God´s guidance. Waking up each morning, growing strong and joyful right where I am. This as well, is paradise.

Tags: Cast, Cherry blossoms, Esta es mi respuesta, Questions