Feathers & Faith

A complete do-over

I wrote this a couple of days ago, and when I re-read it a few times.....I completely hated it and deleted the whole thing. "Killing my darlings", was not an obstacle for me, for this particular post.

Every time I sit down at my computer to type poetry, a story or some every day deep thought, I get so enamored with the process. It is like, basking in the time spent with my other half, that I have yet to meet. That will not be up for topic, so no...that was not a prelude.

When I moved back home, after making the choice to walk away from an abusive marriage, my number one priority when coming back to Ohio, was.....eating something good. I was hungry. That was number one. So my Mom met me at the bus stop with a tupperware container of some of my favorites. My second priority, was starting life over again. I was 31 at the time. Brick by brick I began to rebuild, and the end result?

An isolated hut, on an island of my own.

I had nothing in common with my family, or with the church I was attending. I was facing culture shock, strangely enough. There was a movie that I saw years ago, about this missionary who had gone to an island, where he eventually became a part of the people that lived there. He became family. They had no beds, so he never slept on one while there. When he arrived back home, he was in a western house, with rooms, bathrooms, and beds. When he went to go to sleep, he slept on the floor. His bed was right next to him. He was so accustomed to the ways of the island people, that it was difficult for him to jump right back in, to American living. When I came back home, I had a hard time acclimating to my environment. The mental process of acclimation was a beast. I went from hearing Spanish every day, to no longer hearing it on the outside. I went from seeing Latin grocery stores on every corner and having access to cultural foods, to now, having to search harder for it. I missed hearing Cuban Spanish. I missed the Cuban coffee sold fresh and ready to drink, from behind the counter. American stores have ready made foods like; Walmart, Meijer, Giant Eagle, etc. but the grocery stores I was use to going to at times, their ready made food was Cuban food. All of that was out of reach. My family had their routines, and probably did not know what to do with me. The church that I was attending was a UPCI church, and I just could not find my footing there, amongst other issues. So, I left after a while, and never went back to it.

I was no longer near Cuban culture/Latin culture, a lot of Black culture, and the only Indian culture was my family. So, for a minute I felt a loss of identity. On top of, no longer being a wife. I had to get use to all of this. As painful as it was in my marriage, I had total access to a world very different from mine, but became a huge part of my world. Especially after welcoming my Son. I was proud of my son's Cuban culture, and loved the people and their strength. I still do. Do not mind the past tense references. Since then, I have made it a part of my life, still. Not only because of my Son, but I have an appreciation for Cuban culture.

I wanted to be closer to my own culture and be more involved with my Tribe. My Mom attended the church that I was attending. In fact, she is the one that introduced it to me. We were both going there for a while, and it just did not suit us. There is such a profound feeling of displacement, when you are not in touch with your culture. We all have need for identification. Where you actually know where you come from, and you are not near that, you ask yourself the question; "What am I doing?" I believe we both felt that on different levels and for similar yet different reasons.

I continued to keep living and praying for contentment in every season of my life. I started making a plan to not live in my state, and it became a plan that I have built on, over a few years. I am currently praying over it and making sure that my moves are directed and influenced by God and not myself. I know one thing....I have a longing and a hunger to grow more in my own Indian culture. However God works that out, I am anticipating His answer.

I developed in solitude and learned how to be alone....NOT lonely. From a distance I see a boat, coming to collect me and my things, from this one woman (and child) island that I have built. On my own. That little hut became, home. Our peace and safety. I love what I have established thus far, including the struggles. So, it is not a rescue boat. I don't need rescuing. It is a turning of a few chapters, on to a new one. Change is scary. What we cannot always see, we doubt and fear. What we cannot understand, we judge and fear. It is all intimidating at first, but great things come from newness, and I am ready for it. This is the purpose of, FAITH.

(Hebrews 11:1) "Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen."

Raven