Make Time

My mother taught me to give because I was rich. As a child I didn't completely understand what this meant being the youngest of 12. What I saw in my family were poor immigrants from a Central American war torn country. I couldn't see how that was possible. Food was scarce and clothes were passed down. She told me we were created with certain gifts, things that come natural to each one of us. To keep those gifts to ourselves is the most selfish thing one can do. Consequently, I was inculcated the idea that I was responsible for sharing my gifts and talents with those around me. If you possess the slightest talent of playing an instrument, play that guitar. If running comes easy, then run a marathon and raise money for that charity you've been coming accross. If you speak a second language, then you are partially responsible to that community to serve them, encourage them, be the bridge that closes the gap between both cultures. Giving, according to mom wasn't about money, it was about sharing freeley what we didn't earn, yet was given to us from birth. Gracias Mamá

My parents always made me try everything. If I expressed even the slightest interest in any activity growing up, (sports,running for class office, etc.)they pushed me to try. I didn't turn out to be very good at basketball, (I wasn't even 5 feet tall until I graduated from high school!) and I didn't win for class president in 8th grade, but all of this was met with "Their loss! or "De lo que se perdieron!" I would bounce back from a slight disappointment, and eventually from trying everything, I found things I was good at. I have been fortunate to build upon these strengths ever since, which has helped me find success both in my career and in meeting personal goals. What most impacted me from this, is that I learned it's okay to "fail" at things. The feeling of not making something is much easier to overcome than the feeling of regret for not trying something and missing out on a new experience or adventure.

I can recall from a very early age being instructed to greet my grandmothers, aunts and uncles with the customary “La bendicion.” La bendicion is a request for an elder to bestow a blessing, and in my family, it was usually reciprocated with the response of “May the Lord bless and favor you”. Although this customary greeting was often recited in a ritualistic mechanical manner, as I reflect on the words I am convinced that they powerfully marked my life. In the blessing, the elder imparted and released their hopes for the recipient. I carry upon my life the thousands of blessings that were spoken into my life and these prayers of divine intervention are irrevocable.