lola guerrero

50-something empty-nest-search-for-God-and-happiness with more than a dash of humor


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This Lil’ Light of Mine, I’m Gonna Let it Shine! P.2

During a commercial, my husband asks,
“Can you scratch my back?”
“Scratch your back? Well, of course.”
It’s the least I can do.

Mindlessly moving my hand up and down his back I stare at my wall and silently ask, “Is this it? Scratching my husband’s back? Is my light shining?”

I do know that as I go around shining my light on the mundane tasks in life, I am being prepared for something WONDERFUL and BIG. With my faith, I’m at the edge of my seat expectantly waiting.

I do know my job is to be obedient to the task at hand.
Even if it is as simple as listening to my sister cry about wanting a baby so much that I can’t even relate. I do understand wanting the “impossible dream” to come true while realizing that it’s just not in the cards.

“So, when you see someone who has a baby, do you fight back tears and feel your shoulders sag two inches?” I ask my sister.

She gives me a quivering, “Yes.”
“Yep, I know the feeling.”

I know I shine bright when I bake salmon and tear up lettuce for a salad so my husband can have his dinner.

And . . . there are blessings in being obedient to being called . . . even if the call is to give someone you love a good back scratching.

I do recognize that a family, like the one on the Discovery Channel, can live in the wilderness with no dental plan and no convection oven, to name just a couple of things I like having, and still be content. And a TV producer wanted to film their life.
Go figure.
The members of that family must be shining lights for each other.

Dear God,

I desire to be a chandelier, not a burning candle.
A chandelier high up on the ceiling of a grand theater in New York.
But, with my high ambitions set aside, I believe my light begins shining at my home
. . . and as I obey your commands in small things, I am being led to larger ones.

God, there are a lot of women empty-nesters out there who, like me, want to make a difference.
Take our hands and guide us to to be a light in someone’s life today even if it’s so small and insignificant that only the walls see our brightness.
Amen, lola                                                             IMG_2956

 

 


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This Lil’ Light of Mine, I’m Gonna Let it Shine! P.1

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Early afternoon I walk around
in my condo singing to me and to the wall.
You know the gospel song.
Sing it with me :
This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine
This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine
let it shine, let it shine, ohhh, let it shine

“Wall, where can I shine today?

I head to Starbucks to do some writing, but then my cell vibrates and I answer it. It’s my sister Rita. We talk for about 40 min. Dang, there’s goes my writing time.
Next on my to do list is going to the bank and gym.
I didn’t do any shining at those two locations.

Back home from the gym.
I figure out what to do for dinner.

I glance at the clock and it’s 5 p.m. Surely it’s cocktail time.
While pouring a glass of Pinot Gris, I ask the kitchen wall,
“Where did I shine today?”
I hear no reply.

But I continue, “Talked to my sister today. She is heart broken time after time because she is having a hard time conceiving a baby. Maybe it’s not meant to be.”
I told her that.
I also said that she is meant to be a career woman and pointed out that she is up for a promotion.

“That’s a huge, huge sign if you ask me. Right Wall?”

Oh, the life of no more kids running around inside our home. It has now come to
me talking to a wall. Welcome to my world People.

“Wall, how about cooking dinner? Oh please, I have no desire to shine by seasoning a piece of salmon and making a salad.”

It’s now nighttime . . . my husband and I sit and turn on the Discovery Channel.
We watch a show about a family that lives in the Alaskan Bush. They have no cell phones, they live in the woods, and they hunt for their own food.
It’s not what I would sign up for.

Part 2 Tomorrow


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Deliver Me From Evil

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A prayer that I meditate on when I feel small, afraid, and don’t know
if I should turn left or right. Somehow the Lord’s prayer gives me the
comfort and stillness I desire. I changed the words to fit how I am feeling.
I don’t think God would mind. I know that God desires for all his children
to go to Him and ask ( Matthew 7v7).

Our Father,
Who is in heaven
Holy is your name

May your kingdom come
May your will be done in my life today

On earth as it is in heaven
Bless me
My daily share

Forgive me for my wrongdoing
Teach me do the right thing

Open my heart to forgive those who
trespass against me
Turn me away from temptation
Deliver me from evil

I give you all the glory and power.

Amen

Lola


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To be 100 years old is an accomplishment. Let me process that. P.1

 

Old Wise One (my husband) decides to join me at at a “Centurions Birthday Party”
given by our next door neighbors, Bob and Nadine.

This throws me completely off guard.
I’m thinking, is he on meth?
Since when does he like to socialize on his day off?
He doesn’t enjoy crowds.
He hesitates to shake hands because hands are bacteria carriers.
Duly noted!

We live in an old brick condominium on the beach.
The owners are just as old as the building.
Our building is as close to assisted living as you can get except we have no
doorman or nurse on duty.

Once a year, someone dies
or they fall, break a hip, and scoochy on down to a rehab center.
We bought our condo because of the view and because noise was not
going to be an issue.

I was excited to attend the shindig. Had my outfit laid out. Never been to a
partay for centurions before. Have you?

Another reason I wanted to show up was that I needed a topic for my next blog.
Plus, I can’t pass up cake. Who does not have time for cake?
Simple pleasures in life.      IMG_3043

The guests of honor are Violet and Ellen. Their birthdays are one day apart.
I get their name confused
when I see them in the lobby getting their mail.  But not today, Violet is wearing
a sweater the color of her name.

Our hostess Nadine makes a toast. Her voice rings out, “Happy Centurion!”

Violet smiles, I can tell she enjoying the moment.  Then I  see my husband go
over to offer a handshake and give her half a hug.
How sweet of him.  Now why can’t he like that when my relatives come over for
Christmas ham and pumpkin pie. Hmm.

I am sad to say that Ellen could not make it. She was not feeling all that great.
Understandable.
She is 100 years old.

I was disappointed not to see her because I enjoy talking to her inside the
elevator as she takes her own recycling and compost bin outside. She never
wants my help. Her flaming red permed hair is always curled and never combed out.
Her back is C-shaped.

 


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TO BE 100 YEARS OLD IS AN ACCOMPLISHMENT. LET ME PROCESS THAT P.2

Buying the two ladies cards was a challenge. Not a lot of cards for centenarians at WalMart.

I ran into our hostess, Nadine, a week before the party while waiting for the elevator.
If you ever need a place for a board meeting or a Memorial Day senior citizen bingo party, she is the go-to-gal.

“What presents do I buy for two ladies that are 100 years old” I asked.
She shook her head in disbelief. Her eyes got big.

“Oh nooo . . . get a card, nothing else. When will they have time to use what you give them? I had a difficult time just scheduling this party because they could go at anytime. Then what?
I ordered a huge cake. Come to the party or I will come knock on your door and make you come! It’s an accomplishment to be 100, YOU KNOW!”

To be 100 years old is an accomplishment? Let me process that.

One of the guests, 86-year-old Pearl, used to live in our condo building, but she had three strokes last year. So, she is now in rehab ten miles from where we live.
At the party, she dressed in a white and gray pantsuit. Even though she is a widow, on her ring finger is a huge, sparkly rock.
Her coiffed hair is the color of salt.

“How are you doing?” I ask
“I’m doing well. My rehab place takes great care of me. But, I’m ready to go.” She takes a sip of her white wine.
“Oh, you mean ready to leave the party?”
“No, ready to leave earth.”
“Right, right. ” I say.
“Is that bad to say?” she asks.
“You can say anything you want. You are 86 years old.”

She turns around to another lady the same age and ask her a question.
No response.
She turns back to me. “It’s like my rehab place. No one can hear or see.”
I take a big gulp of my red wine and say a small prayer.
God, please. This cannot be my future.

A gathering was taking place in the kitchen. Violet was asked to share the secret to longevity.
“Exercise, eat right, and continue to do what you like to do. For me, I play the organ and give lessons.” She downs her drink. “Wine helps too.”

Talking to four other ladies close to 90 years old, I found a common theme.
With the exception of Pearl, they were never direct about it, but I got the feeling that they were all ready to leave–not the party–but Earth.

But, they each had energy and positive attitudes, too. They exuded this.
If I ever reach 100 years old, I want to have that kind of energy and positiveness.

We say good bye to everyone. We head to our condo.
“Wow, that was nice you came with me.” I say giving him
a kiss.  “How about a birthday party for you next month?”
“No..let’s not get carried away. I maxed out my social obligations for the year.”

Dear God,
With the right attitude and eating right, we can reach 100 years old like Violet
and Ellen.  Open our eyes to see that being as old as my condo building and
these guests of honor is a beautiful thing.  Amen.
Lola


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Nosy, Eavesdropping Mama

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The other night my Dumbo ears were stretched to the max as I eavesdropped
on my husband and our son’s conversation. When I hear their conversations,
 I’m grateful for God’s blessings.

“Good game, son! That sends the other team a message you’re back! Now go
home, drink plenty of water, rest up. No alcohol. You need to focus,”

My husband says into the phone as he nervously paces back and forth.

“During practice, work on your 3-point shots, foul shots, and everything
will fall into place. Let the ball come to you.”

My husband is so wise, so Dali Lama.

I let his words land in my own big ears: Let the ball come to you.
What I learned from being a nosy, eavesdropping mama is
this:  Pray + preparation = It will come to you.

I have two goals this year.

1. I pray that I write a blog and post once a week and more if I’m feeling creative.
So far, I have been right on track with one blog per week. However, I fret
all the time about what thought-provoking topic I should write about.

Over the weekend, I show up in front of my laptop and start brainstorming.
Showing up is part of the preparation. 
Ideas do come up and I discover
that the creative well is 
not dry. I find that other bloggers have visited my site.
Everything is falling into place.

2. Another goal I have is to lead a bible group one day. I pray about it. The leader
of the group I attend, Martha, is lively and doesn’t pretend to be perfect.
It is a treat to be in her group. A-ha, I think to myself, you don’t have to
be perfect to lead a bible class. I’m all about celebrating imperfection.

“How do I do what you do?” I ask her after class.
“You have to be recommended and wait till the second year of bible study.
What you do now is prepare yourself.”
“You know a lot about the bible,” I say.
Martha shakes her head. “It’s  the desire you have inside you that makes
leading work,” she says. “For now, g
o home, prepare, and be ready.”

Now, I’m paying more attention to the lectures and notes. One day my
group will come to me. Share with me what  are you preparing for?

Are you waiting for Mr. Soul Mate. Pray about it. Then, work on YOU.

Waiting for your dream career? Continue to better yourself.
The career of a lifetime will come.

Waiting for your son or daughter to turn his/her life around?
Pray, then prepare yourself for a huge blessing.

Dear God,

I believe what you desire for us already exists in the spiritual realm.
With faith, I know it will manifest itself in the physical world at the
perfect time.

Amen,

Lola

 


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In Cabo Soaking Up Sun and Drinking Piña Coladas

One morning I’m in front of my full-length mirror naked
and I’m not happy.
There is a row of gray hair on top of my head.
Why is one eye lid droopy?
Whose legs do these belong to? There is cellulite all over!
AGRHH.

This woman in the mirror, who is she?
I study the face closer. Fine lines by the mouth.
Dark age spot on my cheeks.

Shhh–there’s a little bit of lose skin under my chin.
Nothing ages you more than a double chin.
“No need to freak out; it’s only saggin’ skin. It’s not cancer.
Just stop eating at country buffet.” I tell myself.

I check out my butt. I see two small pancakes side by side with
lots of dips.
I suck in my tummy. There is no hourglass figure.
Darn. Where is my waistline?

Where did my waistline run off to?
I bet my waistline and libido (my libido is MIA, too) are in Cabo
soaking up the sun, drinking piña coladas, and getting caught in
tropical desert rain.

Quickly, I pull away from the mirror.
To lift my deflated spirit off the floor, I say,
“Lola, your wine glass is half full. Roll with it.
You have eyes to see your grandbaby,
you have arms to lift 10-pound weights above your head,
your rotator cup is still “rotating,”
you have legs to walk 20 miles a week, but your rear end
is still flat.

Oh well. Get over it.”
I did get over it.

I may not have long shiny hair with extensions and Victoria
Secret legs, but I’m really diggin’ who I have become.
When I look in the mirror, this is who I try to see.

I have an effervescent personality.
I have a nice smile and pearly white teeth.
I’m not shy about asking for a better price.

While updating my oven last month, I asked the salesman,
“Is this is the best price you can do?”

I always say a small prayer before I speak especially before
talking to someone who is intimidating the heck out of me.

During the summer months, I jump right in the pool.
Before, I used to dip my toes in the pool to see if the water
is warm or not swim at all because I was worried about my
hair getting wet.

Share with me what you see when you look in the mirror.
Who is that gorgeous man or beautiful woman?

Dear God,
We are used to seeing glossy magazines with pretty women
with no bags under their eyes and wind-blown hair. But it is
all an illusion.

Bless us with wisdom to know what matters the most.

Tell us to look inward. That is where we will find meaning.
Fill us with your spirit to love more, hug more, and laugh
more . . . that is what matters. Amen.
lola