Diversity Of People And Their Culture

Rarely was fast food an option, as I was raised in a humble family with high standards for nutritious homemade foods. My grandmother would be turning in her grave if she knew. In his happy meal frenzy, before we even started out he counted how many toys he would be getting. Just before we departed at the bus station our dear friend Nancy gave me a packet for our trip. The trip did not start out as planned. Since he was hardly ever sick, I did not bring proper medication. Having this happen made me question how wise it was to undertake this trip. As we rode on he barely ate. The first stop was only 30 minutes long. Not nearly enough time to find medicine. In answer to my worried prayer, a gentleman seated next to us noticed my distress. He attempted to comfort me and offered to look for medicine at our next stop.

The Inner Light

In doing so, he generously walked two blocks from the bus station to find a store. That gentleman was definitely an angel. The next day he woke up feeling better and looking for the toys and Happy Meals he missed. In looking for activities to occupy us, I bought a map to learn about the states as we drove through them. As we passed through each state we crossed off all leading to Florida. The trip started to feel more like the adventure I planned. It was fascinating to see the diversity of people and their culture. How could there be so many differences in people from one state to the other? We stayed in Florida for one night and the next day boarded the plane to Venezuela. Everything felt so different, from the traffic to the people and the economy. The political winds of change that originated a mere year ago had taken hold. The feeling in the air had moved from hopeful to agitated. I sensed division even among family members and friends.

Sleep Just Isn't Sleep Anymore, It's An Escape

There was no longer a place for us there. After we had spent almost two months in Venezuela, the property sale had not yet gone through. After almost a year without work, while waiting for my visa and learning English in Idaho, my funds were at a low ebb. Time and money were running out. The reality of my circumstances would have scared anyone from leaving, but staying was not among my options. Deep in my heart I knew everything would work out. As I traveled, I thought of how blessed I had been with great people along the way. People like the Thompsons in Idaho, who not only introduced me to the gospel but soon became like family. During that time, I learned about strong families. I was fascinated with how religious spouses dedicated themselves to building a healthy family. Up until that point I had known a rocky relationship with men in families. I hadn’t met my father until I was probably five years old.

Do You Believe In Shame?

My dad left my mother when I was only one. I was attracted to all these new gospel principles and values like a magnet. The bus unloaded in Salt Lake City, and I saw my dear friend Marah, her big smile made me feel like I was walking through the doors of heaven. We had arrived not only at our destination but also our future. It felt like a victory and a glory, even though I knew there were many obstacles to overcome! They were a great example of what a family should be like. We stayed with the Ewells for one month until we found a cozy apartment for us. My son was so excited to have our place. I was able to find a job, which helped me provide for our needs. From the start, he was attentive and willing to invite us to different activities. Soon he became a frequent visitor in our home and earned our hearts. The standards, goals, and values he displayed were everything I wanted in my future relationship. I could see a hand in my life. Among those I chose to be a mother and to build a new family for us. With a new family I was finally living moments of success after my earlier failures. My son, who was too young to understand, had lost his home, toys, friends, culture, family, and biological dad. Despite his apparently normal behavior and display of adjustment to all the changes, he was internally struggling. I failed again in recognizing his struggle. He was more sensitive than other kids when it came to his space and sharing with other children. He was the oldest of an inexperienced mom, who was also trying to adapt, learn a new language, and find her own space in a new culture. It was difficult for me to recognize my son’s need and that most children struggle with sharing their possessions with other kids. It was not until his teenage years that the dynamic of our interactions in our home changed. It became complicated, and as an artist, I describe it as really abstract! I thought learning English was difficult until I tried teaching teenagers. I didn’t understand anything! They become individuals with their opinions and free will. I went from being a mom at the center of their kind actions, to being the reason for their anger. From this point, my struggles as a mother became more obvious. Now he had a voice, and it was loud. I was in the habit of always finding solutions to my obstacles, but parenting to me was one of the most defeating experiences I ever had. It was a regressive process. There were skills I didn’t have and behaviors I needed to get rid of. It takes a conscious and determined effort in every interaction with others to shift and mold new behaviors. Most important, I didn’t understand the principles of free agency and allowing my son to learn from his failures and experiences.