I guess He was annoyed by my gratitude. It started to rain like crazy. To be correct, it was almost STORMING immediately after I uttered my heartfelt thanks.
The gush of rain was so heavy, by the time I ran toward the glass door, I was soaking wet.
“Is this how you repaid me?” I yelled.
You know me? I couldn’t just swallow my anger. I had to let Him know how I really felt. I mean, if you were me, wouldn’t you? So I yelled again.
“Are you for real God?”
No, He did not answer me. But, amazingly, just about then, I noticed a tiny lizard staring at me. I assumed it was trying to escape from the rain, and ran inside when I opened the glass door. And, since I didn’t have the heart to kick him out, I whispered to him.
“Ok. You can stay inside. But, you better never let my daughter see you here. In fact, go hide in the garage.”
But to my surprise, before I could walk toward the garage door, the little rascal had jumped on me. And, for the life of me, I couldn’t tell where it was hiding.
So I started screaming, “AHAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” And, skipping all over the house, while I snatched off my clothes.
I finally stopped screaming because the hot water almost caused me to choke myself, since I was in the tub, steaming my body in the shower.
Afterward, I placed all my clothes in the tub for a hot bath, I gladly assumed: “That should have killed the little rascal.”
About an hour past, when I was certain the house was lizard free, I thought I would start painting.
Don’t tell my daughter this part OK. She took off to Portugal and left me in the house all by myself. Before she left, she asked:
“You are not going to pain here, are you Mom?”
“What an insult?” I thought to myself, before I answered her.
Of course, the same day after her departure, I rushed back to my house, retrieved my canvas, my two LARGE bags of paints and brushes.
Can you imagine the thrilling inspiration, when I found out I was going to spend the whole week by myself, with a nice lake view at my disposition?
Yes, other artist would probably feel inspired to paint something about nature, perhaps the lake itself. But, I’m a bit different. Perhaps, even strange. So I painted some ladies dancing the panda dance, with an ugly guy beating the drum. I also finished my grand-parents painting.
So, to get back to my lizard story. After I broiled the little rascal in the tub, I felt the urge to start painting. In fact, I even had my glass of red wine ready, in order to seal the deal.
But, when I finally grabbed my canvas, guess who was staring at me; dozed off to sleep, on my largest canvas?
I – will – NEVER – EVER- feel sorry for a baby lizard – AGAIN!
“Seriously God, ARE YOU FOR REAL?”
This week I can’t seem to find the time to write, so I will continue to showcase some of my culture inspired paintings.
This one is entitled “Caribbean Woman”
We are known for our exotic beauty, our full figure, ( don’t know what happened to me on this one) our kinky hair, our firm discipline, and most of all, for our unique style and delicious food!
In the field of the heavenly task, I was assigned a young protégé. The first house we travelled was a multi-millionaire, known for his brilliant invention. Disguised as a beggar, we knocked on his front door.
A man dressed like a penguin, with a superior pose, opened the door. “How may I help you?”
So I answered, “It is mighty cold, our journey is mighty far, we beg for shelter till early morrow please.”
“Let’s see what the master!” As he walks away. “If look could have killed…” Hope you know what I mean.”
“Who is it?” We heard. But the butler did not answer. Instead, he kept on walking with his head straight, as if it was held by an invisible cast.”
Meanwhile, with the door closed, we stood in the cold. The snow blistering, we turned into a snow man.
After a few second we heard, “Why bothering me with such nonsense? Throw them in the basement!”
So we slept on the cold floor. Not a cup of coffee or tea was offered to us. But in the middle of the night, the butler was kind enough to bring us a blanket, along with a candle. On his way back, his steps paved the way to a large whole, but he kept on walking. So with my magic instinct, I restored the floor right before we left.
“Why did you even bother to fix the floor, after the way we were treated?” Asked the young angel.
I answered him, “Things are not always as they seem dear.”
The next house we visited, was a poor farmer, with his wife and four children.
“We boiled some water for your bath. Afterward, come and dine with us. Although a small chicken, but I’m sure will do.” Said the wife, while she served us a cup of tea.
The husband who remained quiet during dinner finally turned to me, “John and Nathan will sleep with us. Their beds are pretty comfy, hope you both will be warm.”
But around midnight, we heard a male voice, weeping in the living room.
“Why God – Why? I used our last coins to buy this cow – Now that it’s dead, how will we survive – how will we?”
The young protégée bitterly plead: “Why? Could you not have prevented this tragedy on this kind and hospitable family? While You’ve withheld you blessing from them, yet you’ve shed your kindness on the unworthy millionaire”
The older angel replied “Haven’t I previously stated: “Things are not always as they seem?”
“Grant me understanding then. Perhaps, even discernment please – For I’m yet to see the light through your reasoning!”
Then the elder answered “I hid the wealth which was bursting its pathway from the ground, being the rich man was not worthy of such honor. Therefore, even that which was once granted to him shall be taken away.
But, pertaining to this man, could the grief he suffered over the cow, be compatible to the one his family would endure if he dies – being that he is the main bread winner? Last night, during the midnight hour, I bargained with the angel of death who was commissioned to claim his soul; so he settled for the cow instead. Learn this: “Things are not always as they seem. ”
“But, how will they survive?”
“The sparkle of life travels with hope; and where there is love, there also lies the strength to survive. “
My cat Mikko thinks he can bully us around. At one point, he was the chief terrorist in our neighborhood. But, when he became sick, he was treated, then we decided to transition him to an in-house cat. Of course, it’s a nerve-racking transition for him.
He still craves to go outside. He has nightly tantrum and refuses to let us sleep. To get our attention, he’ll scratch the windows, doors, runs back and forth all over the house; even Jump on the bed, dresser, slams his head/ his body against anything he can manage to break.
I swear this cat does not think he’s an animal.
So last night, when he noticed he was being ignored in spite of his unbelievable bandit performance, he decided to attack his little friend Moina, our female cat. At last, the poor cat was forced to hide inside the closet. But Mikko was still not satisfied. So when I tried to intervene, he turned toward me to hiss at me like a snake.
“Mikko, you better stop it!” I yelled back. But he was way too angry. So he turned around to say,
“Meowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww – get the hell out of here!
For the first time I was really scared of my cat, but I couldn’t show him that. So I stared back at him and yelled:
“MEOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW – YOU BETTER STOP OR I WILL TAKE YOU THERE MYSELF!!!”
I did such an unbelievable performance, that Mikko froze for a few seconds; while he stared at me, he then ran to hide under the bed.
Well, I’m not certain what really drove him away – between my roaring tone of voice or my horns?
But one thing I was certain of, “Cats can see demons.
My father has always been a man of few words, but last week I realized we had much more in common. I kept track of a whole day conversation between us, starting after breakfast.
“Papy, are you done eating?”
“Oh yes, forgot the other glass!”
Now I started writing while he was reading.
Two hours later:
“You ok Papy?
Two more hours, he’s still reading, while I’m writing.
Annoyed by my errors, I said:
Are you ok?
An hours later:
An hour later, he walks toward the glass door:
Together we said: “Over 10 of them!”
“Wow!” I answered.
“Wow! They’re eating all the plants.” (He said)
I resumed my writing while he’s opening the mails. Not a spoken word between us, till about an hour later when my loudmouth daughter walked through the front doorr.
“HI PAPY! How was your day?
Papy and I quickly glanced at each other, the we both nod our head to say:
“Oops! The drum is here!”
When my sister who’s a nurse mentioned my father is reflecting dementia symptoms, I completely refused to believe her. Of course I was in denial! I didn’t want to remember my father as the helpless elder he had become; I would rather see him as the sound minded engineer he once was.
During the past two weeks, I’ve been in charge of his meal, while my sister takes charge of the grocery. I’m enjoying spending quality time with my father. We eat and chat, but whenever he dosed off to sleep, I focus on my writing.
One morning after I asked him for his choice of meal? He specifically requested for some eggs, which I prepared to his liking. In fact, he even gave me a compliment, which is rare. My father can be a harsh food critic.
“How is the egg Papy?”
“Very good! Just the way I like it!”
After he ate two eggs, once slice of bread, one banana, half a cup of V-eight, quart glass of milk; he munched on a bag of hot chips, which my daughter had brought him a couple days ago. Then, he grabbed his phone, which led me to believe he was searching for a number. About two hours later, he was still searching.
“Papy, are you looking for a phone number?”
“No, I’m waiting on you for, for, the, the food!”
“What food Papy?”
“What do you mean by “what food? You haven’t served me my breakfast!”
“Papy, you just ate your breakfast!”
“Me? I just woke up, came to sit on the table to wait on you!”
“Ok Papy, what would you like to eat this morning?”
“He thought for a second, “What do you have here? Whatever you have!”
“Would you like some eggs?”
“Ok, give me that!”
So after I prepared two eggs, toasted some bread, add some fruits… I placed the plate in front of him;
He stares at me for a few seconds, then laughed hysterically:
“Are you suffering from dementia? You just fed me! I guess I should be taking care of you, instead of you caring for me!”
Although my heart was aching, the incident was too funny. So I laughed my heart to tears.
On that same day, when my daughter came to see him, after she kissed him she asked:
“How you doing Grandpa?”
He answered: “Your mother is losing her mind, fed me breakfast twice, I haven’t had a bite to eat, since this morning!”
The first day Sister Marie and I met for the play rehearsal, she sat down and repeated the same scripture over and over.
“Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I have become a sounding brass or a clanging cymbal.” Though I speak……”
She continued with this charade during the whole hour. In fact, that’s when I realized could never be a nun. I foresaw myself snoring during the early morning, and evening prayers. I would be such a pain in the convent, just like Floriane Maria in the movie, “The Sound of Music,” Mother Superior wouldn’t know what to do with me.
Finall, I thought “I have to find a way to maintain my sanity,” so I started drawing. First, I drew a picture of myself snoring, and of Sister Maria holding a ruler with a furious face. Then I drew a new portrait of her being carried to heaven by the angels. I also kept count of her repetitions. But while I drew little circles, I whispered “Sister Marie is going craaa-zy!!!! I’m sure she heard me, but she still did not show any sign of annoyance.
Furthermore, to test her endurance, I dropped myself on the floor, rolled over a couple times. Then, I placed my school bag under my chin, while I laid flat on my stomach, with my arms wide open. Still not a zilch from her.
So I got up, while standing next to her, started hopping on one leg; knew she hated that. Still not a sign from her.
So I finally concluded: “Sister Marie went to heaven and left her body behind.” In fact, I started singing the same sentence, over and over, and I danced all the latest dance I knew, even did the twist. Not a zilch from Sister Marie.
When my brother came to pick me up, I grabbed my school bag, and as I started running toward the door. I heard: “See you Friday Angel!”
“I suddenly stopped running, just to turn and look at her. She was smiling.
“Oh My God! You are back from heaven Sister Marie?”
She shook her head, laughed, then said “Yes Angel, I came back to take you with me.”
“Oh no, sister Marie. Today I realized I could never be a nun like you. I would be bored to death. “
“Why would you be bored?”
“Because you were repeating the same prayer over and over for a whole hour. That’s too boring!”
“ I was not really praying, I was merely meditating on the word.”
“Well, “I can’t merely meditate on the word” for so long either Sister Marie. I would start snoring, all the angels and demons would start running inside the church.”
“ You have a great gift if you can cause even the demons to run back to church.”
“Sister Marie, my grandma used to tell me, “I snore so loud, that I will cause both angels and demons to wake up from their sleep and run to church.”
“But why would she think they would rush to church?”
“Because my snore sound just like thunder, they would think it’s God’s voice rebuking them!”