I came across a journal that was about two years old in the trunk of my car. I stated using the unused pages for random notes. However today I came across a journal entry that really made me smile. Sometimes I need to be reminded of certain things. Thought I'd share it with you all. I've tagged some younger friends as well because well it can sometimes help to see the mistakes that other's make to be aware that you don't make the same ones yourself. :)

Titus 2

What Must Be Taught to Various Groups

1You must teach what is in accord with sound doctrine. 2Teach the older men to be temperate, worthy of respect, self-controlled, and sound in faith, in love and in endurance.

3Likewise, teach the older women to be reverent in the way they live, not to be slanderers or addicted to much wine, but to teach what is good. 4Then they can train the younger women to love their husbands and children, 5to be self-controlled and pure, to be busy at home, to be kind, and to be subject to their husbands, so that no one will malign the word of God.

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December 4th 2007

Thank you Lord for Pat Lesser. Thank you Lord for revealing to me the truth.

THINGS THAT I CAN CONTROL

* My actions

*My choices

*My words

THINGS THAT I CAN'T CONTROL

*My future

*My past

*Robert

WHAT LIES AM I BELEIVING?

I am not good enough to lead CR praise band

I can do things that will "make me good enough"

I can keep Robert and I together

Robert can keep us together

THINGS THAT ARE TRUE:

I am made perfect through Christ Jesus

I am right just the way I am for God to use me for His glory

I deserve to be treated with kindness, gentleness and respect

I am worthy of love, respect, support and acceptance

Robert is responsible for Robert

I am responsible for me

I am not perfect

Robert is not perfect

I will let Robert down

Robert will let me down

I am quick to get defensive when Robert points out my faults

I am a spiritual being having a human experience

GOD allows me to lead praise band

I only feel guilty if I allow myself to feel guilty

God put Robert and I together

Robert and I are both capable of loving each other as God has commanded

WHO AM I?

I am to be held harmless and blameless by my husband

I am worthy of great love

I am capable of loving others as God does because God lives in me

I am made perfect by the blood of the Lamb

I am able to grow and change

I am destined to be a Proverbs 31 Woman.

Thank you Lord for your truth. Thank you for your strength. Be my shield and a lamp for my feet. I pray for your peace Lor and good rest tonight.

~Amen

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The Name Change Dilema

Now that I've married Robert, that will make me a Raymond. But what about my ethnicity that is attached to my last name? I'm pale enough as it is, that people forget I'm even Spanish. (Not to mention I don't tan all that well...) How can I be a Raymond?

Then of course there is the question of cleaving to my husband. The two have become one. But what does it say about name change? I have been thinking about hyphenating it to Sanchez-Raymond. But does this honor Robert? I don't know. So I asked Robert how he feels about this and he said he doesn't care either way. "It's your name baby. As long as I'm in there some where I'm happy," was his actual response. So he's no help. ;)

I know I'll still make hot chocolate on the stove with actual chocolate bars melted in... the real Colombian way. I'll still make my tostones and platano like I always have. I'll still answer my parents in Spanish when I don't even realize I'm not speaking English anymore. I'll teach my children all the children's songs my mom taught me like "Los Pollitos." But what about the name? I'm torn and really thinking the hyphen isn't looking so bad.

I'd be Marilyn Adela Sanchez-Raymond. My kids would be Blah Blah Blah Raymond. Socially I'd be Mrs. Raymond... unless I had to sign a legal document. And when I traveled my passport would be the hypenated name. It's probably safer for me to travel in Colombia, with my gringo husband Robert, with my spanish name still there on my passport.. ;D )

I'm just trying to work this out. Needless to say I've been in much prayer over this and haven't heard anything from the Lord about it yet. What do you all think about the matter? I could use some more input. 

A Sweet Aroma

I was making mental lists of all the things that I needed to get done by tomorrow evening at work. It caught me off guard as I walked home one night from another late night’s work. The smell wafted down on me in the cool of a city summer night. The faint sounds of the train in distance and the sight of city litter reminded me that I was indeed still in Astoria, Queens. I looked around and saw only my neighbor, the old Greek woman who was perpetually sweeping the side walk. She was muttering to herself in Greek, perhaps cursing the passers by who dared litter her sidewalk. I looked away and searched the gated front stoops of small houses as I walked. I tried to concentrate further on the origin of the aroma. Was that jasmine, honeysuckle? What was it and where was it coming from?

I breathed in deeply as I walked to the middle of my block and crossed the street. The sweet smell followed. The day faded into the recesses of my memory. I skipped up the front steps and unlocked the front door to my 2nd floor apartment that I shared with two friends. I was home alone. “They must be out somewhere,” I thought. As I closed the door and bounded up the steep wooden staircase, I was suddenly aware of the protest they made under my weight. I eased up; worried my landlord would complain about the noise at the late hour. I sighed as I realized that the garbage needed to be taken out. I didn’t need to look. I could smell it.

Readying myself for bed, I showered, brushed my teeth. I slipped into pajamas and picked up the book by Gabriel Garcia Marquez that was dog-eared on my night stand. I opened the window and was struck by the smell once more. I read for a while, unable to shake a feeling. Of what, I couldn’t be sure. It was a feeling with which I was unfamiliar. I closed my book an hour later and turned out the light. Sleep came immediately; a rare and strange occurrence.

Five years later, there I was. Packing the excess of my life into boxes, I thought about moving. I hated moving. I doubted anyone really enjoyed it, but I found myself annoyed that I had to start over. I’m resistant to change. It scares me, excites me and drains me. I wasn’t feeling well after all and the task at hand was a great stress. I decided that the rest of the packing would have to be handled by somebody else. I was spent and I was looking forward to a rest from the hectic weeks that had proceeded this day. I packed a few boxes into my car and drove off towards my new home. This was the 4th new place in 5 years. My head was swimming with the thoughts of unpacking and the dread of the thought of living out of boxes. I was mechanical in my driving and was surprised when I arrived at my new place in what seemed like record time. No one else was there. “They must have gone back to pick up the last truck load,” I assumed.

Unlocking the door, I stepped into chaos. Boxes were piled everywhere in random order. Power tools laid about the concrete floor, a reminder of the work still needing to be done. It was dusty and there was a faint smell of turpentine. I walked past the kitchen to look out the sliding glass doors. “This is home?” I asked myself. I went about looking for a glass that was clean. I turned on the tap and filled my glass with water. As I drank, I let out an exhausted sigh. Walking towards the bedroom I made an endless mental list of all the things I had to do the next day. I shook my head as if doing so would make it fade away. I was looking forward to taking a shower.

When I was done I crawled into bed and realized that the box with my glasses and books were still out in the car. I thought about leaving them there. I lay in bed trying to relax and find a comfortable position, but couldn’t. I swung my legs out of bed and looked for my flip-flops. Remembering they were packed away somewhere, I headed out the front door barefoot. Finding what I was looking for in the trunk of my car, I put on my glasses and picked up the box of books. I walked gingerly over the grass and suddenly stopped by the front door.

The smell filled my head with a rush of remembrance. I looked around trying to identify where it was coming from. The smell of gardenias had appeared out of thin air. I relaxed instantly and closed my eyes. “This is home. This is where He wants me.” I thought. I smiled to myself and walked inside. I put the books down in the overcrowded living room and proceeded to the bedroom. As I crawled into bed, I was suddenly struck by a feeling. The same one, that five years ago had no name. Ease.

I love gardenias. The sweet fragrant smell of them brings back a rush of memories and the reassurance that I am loved. I hadn’t known Him that night in Astoria, but He knew me. I know Him now. “Thank you Lord,” was all I could manage before I faded off into a peaceful sleep.