When are we supposed to feel guilt when we tried to do things that are right but they don't come out as planned?
My son is graduating from high school this year. I pushed for him to apply for different scholarships, specially for one that awards Hispanic students. Because he has above average qualities of an good student, we hoped that he would be awarded something. It was disheartening when we joyfully received the envelop with the results. Just prior to opening the letter his father joked hinting than not all letters are for awards that some are regretful and apologetic. As if he was a psychic, the letter informed us that he was not awarded a scholarship but he was still welcome to come to the ceremony to received his academic award.
So far he had not received a single scholarship award. Besides feeling disillusion, I also feel very guilty because I constantly pestered him about applying. My only hope is that he would receive something from my association. Only a tiny sliver of hope that is all I have. I wish for him to open a letter and feel joyful about his efforts. I hate for him to open letters of regretful news. Every time he reads the words "We regret to inform you that you have not been awarded", I get a heavy, dark feeling of guilt, almost as if I was the one making the official notification.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Monday, April 5, 2010
Little Miracles
All of us want to be witnesses or part of a big miracle. We look forward to experience the rush, the wow moment that is going to blow our minds away. Sometimes when I am sitting in church during service I question my faith because I have not experience that spiritual exhilaration. From such anticipation I blind myself from the small miracles that occur at every moment around me.
Just last Saturday in celebration of past over and Easter, we attended a three hour long service. We knew it was going to be a longer service than usual but we didn't anticipated this long period. Instead of getting mad I choose to be glad to be there. As it was a bilingual mass the crowd was brimming to the entrance, but I was setting there in a good spot with my family. As customary, many families with young children were present, I foresaw many babies crying, to my amazement the young ones were quiet, some were asleep in their parents' arms as the service was late at night. The music was lively enough to keep us singing, but the best miracle was when I got to hear the homily in one language, then the other. I think God really wanted me to listen to it, because usually I hear it but I instantly forget what they say. I can't say that I save every word I heard that night but the message was strong to me when I heard it for a second time. It was a great event, and this time I experience or was part of all the small miracles that were taking place.
Just last Saturday in celebration of past over and Easter, we attended a three hour long service. We knew it was going to be a longer service than usual but we didn't anticipated this long period. Instead of getting mad I choose to be glad to be there. As it was a bilingual mass the crowd was brimming to the entrance, but I was setting there in a good spot with my family. As customary, many families with young children were present, I foresaw many babies crying, to my amazement the young ones were quiet, some were asleep in their parents' arms as the service was late at night. The music was lively enough to keep us singing, but the best miracle was when I got to hear the homily in one language, then the other. I think God really wanted me to listen to it, because usually I hear it but I instantly forget what they say. I can't say that I save every word I heard that night but the message was strong to me when I heard it for a second time. It was a great event, and this time I experience or was part of all the small miracles that were taking place.
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