Life's Greatest Choices

Every day offers so many choices…to get out of bed on time or sleep 15 more minutes, to skip breakfast or not, what to wear, what to say…you get the picture. But I feel there are very few times in life when you are literally standing at a fork in the road deciding which way to go, with each path leading you somewhere completely different. I can’t believe it has almost been a year since I made one of life’s greatest choices and I can’t help but reflect on how drastically it has impacted my life.

As many of you know my husband returned from Iraq last November just in time for our first anniversary (literally just in time, two hours before midnight), and though we were overjoyed to be back together we weren’t planning on him being home for a few more months. We had a plan. We had it all figured out. That was our first mistake ;) I was supposed to finish my Bachelor’s while he was in Iraq and then move down to Texas. But God, as He often does, had other ideas for us. He knew we wouldn’t last long trying to sustain a long-distance marriage for 6 more months after doing it for the last 7. Here came the time to make a choice, to stay in Colorado to finish my degree or to leave and be with my husband.

It is no secret that I packed my bags and left for Texas within 4 days of deciding to move; when God moves He moves quickly! It wasn’t an easy decision by any means. I was leaving everything and everyone I had ever known, not to mention the dreams I had always had in my sights. Yet I felt God pushing and unlike so many times in the past I was going to stop fighting Him and just follow. The first months in Texas were kind of rough. I went from working two jobs, going to school fulltime and leading campus organizations to doing absolutely nothing. I was going crazy staying in the house all day doing the same thing every day. After much discussion with my husband I decided to find a job, specifically in my field of passion: criminal justice. I absolutely LOVED working with former offenders in Colorado so I knew in my heart that is where I ‘needed’ to be. I have to laugh as I type this because once again God had other plans! I applied to be a police officer, correction officer, police clerk, and even a teacher of sorts. I made great progress, had good interviews but something was always in the way. While I waited for the right job to come along I turned my search elsewhere, I started looking into non-profits in the community.

Looking back it was nothing less than Divine appointment how I ended up at Hope Pregnancy Center. A friend has recently started working for the organization and ironically I came across them in my Google search that same day. I remember thinking, “a pregnancy center? Me? What do I know about working with pregnant women?”

Enter God….”Go check it out.”

Me: “Uh not really up my alley. Silly God. Isn’t there a prison ministry around here?”

God: “Trust me.”

Seriously the conversation pretty much went like that. I did like that the organization was Christ-centered since I had spent the last several months working for an organization that not only acknowledged God but encouraged us to share about it with clients. Long story short, from the first meeting I had with the center director to the first time I stepped into the counseling room I felt at home. It didn’t matter that I didn’t know the ‘trade’ so to speak, I knew working with people, I knew Christ and that is all that mattered.

To say that I’ve been blessed by my time at Hope would be a huge understatement. I have learned so much about myself as a person, a professional and a follower of Christ. Most importantly, I gained the confidence to share the Gospel with all God calls me to; something I am ashamed to say I struggled with before. But even setting all that aside I have made some incredible friends. The women I have the privilege working with never cease to amaze me. They listen to me complain when my husband has to be away. They supported me after we lost our first baby. And they share in our joy of our gift Baby Jasmine. Through their words, hugs and even silliness I have found my Texas family and that is something I will never take for granted.

It is hard to think about leaving this place…today I gave them a date for my final day. Such a bittersweet time this is but I take comfort in the fact that God is leading us through our newest life choices: transitioning to Colorado and bringing our baby girl into this world. It helps knowing that family (biological, church and family in heart) awaits our arrival as well as going back to work with DenverWorks. It’s funny how God led me away from an awesome group of ladies in Denver down to another group in Texas just to bring me back!

As I continue to reflect on life’s greatest choices I leave you with one of my favorite poems by Robert Frost, it has taken on such a deeper meaning from the first time I read the words in high school.

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

 

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

 

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

 

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

~Robert Frost

Two roads dive  nnnn

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

 

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

 

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

 

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

 

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

 

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

 

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took t

What does color have to do with it?

*I want to preface this by saying that this blog post will deal with sensitive issues regarding race, racial ignorance, and racial identity.*

I grew up in a ‘mixed’ home as some would call it, my mother is Caucasian while my father is Hispanic. Although I really wasn’t aware, or rather I didn’t place much emphasis on it, until I went to school. I never saw my mother as being different than me; honestly I didn’t see color. But kids were quick to point out that my mother looks entirely different than me with her red hair, green eyes and fair skin while I have dark brown hair, matching eyes and needless to say I am a few shades darker. I was constantly asked if she was my babysitter or stepmom. I didn’t understand why people questioned me or why it even mattered at all.

Fast forward a few years to middle school…this would be when I really started to struggle with racial identity. Many are probably wondering what that term even means and to put it simply it is the race one most identifies with. We have all been confronted with the question on medical forms and job applications, “Please check the box of your race (select only one),” or something along those lines. But what do you do if you are equally two races? I can’t deny half of myself. Yet sometimes it was just easier to identify as Hispanic since I look more so. Then I was confronted with which group of people I identify most with. As I told my mother growing up, I am too brown for the white people (based on my looks) but too white for the brown people (based on the fact that I am not fluent in Spanish); it really was a struggle. It was only made more difficult by the comments I heard from others…

In 6^th grade a fellow student, who was a refugee from Somalia I might add, told me to go back to my own country. Umm yeah I am American citizen, I am in my country. He went on to say how “‘my’ people were beneath him and someday ‘my’ people would be kissing his feet as his servants.” No joke that is a direct quote from someone who wasn’t even an American citizen himself. A year later in 7^th grade a girl who proclaimed to be a Christian (I think that is the part that hurt the worst) stood up in class and said in front of everyone, “the only reason there are dark people is because they were burned in hell.” Yeah I must have missed that verse in the Bible somewhere. Again I didn’t understand. How could someone that proclaimed the name of Christ be so hateful and hurtful over something that doesn’t matter?

I often wondered why I had been chosen to look this way while my sisters inherited my mother’s fairer skin but more often than that I just cried. People were so cruel. I was downright outraged when a girl in 8^th grade had the nerve to suggest that racism had ceased to exist since the Civil Rights Movement; yeah easy for her to say as she sat there with her blonde hair, blue eyes and white skin. What could she possibly know about racism?? She had no idea what I had been through, what I was going through and what I would face down the road.

High school got easier but I constantly had to deal with the questions: where are you from? Um Denver. Colorado. The United States. Do you speak Spanish? Uh no, do you speak French? Is that your real mom? Yes, wanna see her c-section scars? I mean seriously why do people think it is ok to ask such personal questions, it blows my mind. I’ve seen my dad have to go through it too. He gets the dumb questions, the rude remarks about being an immigrant (which he isn’t), being told to go back to his own country and even being racially profiled by the police in some instances; all because of the color of his skin.

Baby Jasmine at 18 weeks

As I’ve gotten older I have learned to brush it off or maybe I’m just more immune after all the scars, either way I don’t let it bother me as much as I did when I was a kid. However now I face a new challenge and more ignorance. Our daughter will be mixed race (one fourth Hispanic and three fourths Caucasian), there is no telling what color her skin will be. To me it doesn’t matter because she is my daughter, she is made exactly the way God intended her to be. But other people seem more preoccupied by it. I’ve been told that ‘it would be easier in society if she was just white.’ I can handle hurtful words, I’ve been doing it for years, but my daughter should not be subject to such ignorant things. Every time I hear a racial joke I literally have to bite my tongue. Hearing the word “wetback” makes my skin crawl with anger. Such things are not funny.

I want to educate others a little bit on definitions for a moment because I feel like they are often misused and misunderstood. Race refers to a large group that includes all the ethnicities of that group for example Caucasian, Hispanic, Asian, Native American or African American. Ethnicity is the sub category of a race for example German, French, Ugandan, Mexican or Chinese.

My parents

For the record, my race is Caucasian AND Hispanic. My ethnicities are Spanish, German and Swedish. My racial identity: human being. So please think twice before you laugh at a joke at another race’s expense, use a racial slur, ask a question that may potentially be hurtful or make an assumption based on someone’s skin. After all, what does color have to do with it?

<3 JT