Saints at All Saints

Several months back a friend took me to a chapel, a place where she said that gave her peace. Since that first visit, this chapel inside All Saints Catholic Church has been my second home.  I go there on my way to work, after work, or whenever I have couple of minutes.

At first I just sat there feeling awkward.  Then I began to pray, not knowing any Catholic or even Christian prayers, I prayed in Arabic. I must say that the thought of the Holy Spirit striking me down did crossed my mind numerous times.  Here I was sitting inside a Catholic church with a statue of Jesus on a cross while reciting Bismillah-ir-Rahman-ir-Rahim...

When I was a small child, my grandmother told me that God was this BIG ocean and everything and everyone else were small rivers slowly making their way to the ocean.  So I told myself, Allah/God and Jesus/Mohammed are same ocean and I am just a tiny stream trying to make her way to it so I kept praying in Arabic.

Soon I found myself kneeling and talking to God.  As weeks went by, I realized that going to the Chapel and telling God about my day, my worries, my heartaches, and everything else filled the gap that I have been feeling ever since my divorce.  I remember being excited to go to the chapel so I could tell God that I got a new job!

These notes and cards are just a small example of the folks at All Saints who have embraced me with unconditional love and acceptance.  I am also grateful for the soft introduction that my friend made that allowed me to just sit in God’s presence until I was ready to speak.

I doubt that I can ever be a Catholic.  I lack the discipline. I doubt that I could ever be a Muslim.  I have too much childhood baggage. But it isn’t religion that I have been searching all these years but God.  

My pseudo-religious; half-lost; completely confused soul has found a way to THE ocean and All Saints Catholic Church is offering me a life jacket.  

I have never been a good swimmer so wish me luck! Splash...

Dating Game

Tears ran down my eldest daughter’s face when I asked her how she would feel if I started dating.  My younger daughter on the other hand replied, “as long as he isn’t a jerk.  I guess its fine”.  However, they both looked at me in disbelief that I would contemplate dating.  Frankly I am in disbelief as well.

Perhaps it is because I had managed to let go some of my anger while walking the Camino or perhaps it is shear fact that my daughter will be leaving for college in the fall.  Whatever the reason or combination of reasons, I felt that it is time and that I am ready.

The last time that I went on a date was in the mid-1990s.  Things have changed a little in the dating world.  I no longer have an unmarried friend circle with like-minded individuals.  I don’t belong to any congregation and meeting someone at my work, not only inappropriate, but incomprehensible. 

Several friends suggested online dating.  First I tried Bumble for maybe a week when I realized that I “swiped” the wrong way indicating that I “LIKE” the guy when I was actually passing.  After realizing my mistake, I panicked and deleted the app. 

Next I tried Match.com.  On my first day on Match I was approached by several men.  The one that caught my attention was a 58 year old Norwegian.  I half-jokingly said to my friend that both Asian and American men are off my list so it’s time to give Europe a chance. 

For over a month, Chris and I talked, texted, and emailed each other.   Our schedule was never in-sync for us to actually meet in person.  However we finally had a date in mind.

Christopher Hansen– divorced with a 15 yr old son.  His ex-wife cheated on him with his best friend and they are actually living together.  They have been divorced for 9 yrs.  His ex and son live in Beverly Hills, CA.  He has a cat named Queen.  He is liberal and has lived in the States for 30 years.  He moved here with his mother.  His father was abusive.  He is the only child.  His mother died almost a year ago of breast cancer.  He moved to Dallas from San Antonio after his mother’s death.  He purchased a house on White Rock Lake and works as a contractor for Halliburton.  Chris’ company manages oil spills all over the world.  He travels a lot but being self-employed gives him the flexibility to take long vacations; visit his son, etc.

Did I mention that Chris is very cute and has that sexy European accent; and that he rarely eats meat? He also works out every day.  He doesn’t smoke but definitely enjoys a nice bottle of wine or whiskey at times.

Chris was in Cyprus while I was in Paris.  We exchanged text and spoke only once due to time difference and I wasn’t ready to say anything to my daughters about our communication.  I returned Dallas and Chris was to follow suit soon after. 

Then crisis happened!  One of his equipment needed repair in order to finish the job and there was some glitch with his credit card.  He needed me lend him money, only temporarily of course! He promised to pay me back as soon as he was back in Dallas.

I was a little heartbroken and pissed that my very first attempt was a scam.  Chris knew a LOT about me and I can only assume that he googled Shama.  There aren't too many of us with that name in the DFW area.

If you are wondering, I didn't send him any money.  Some men may perceive me as a woman of "certain age" who is desperate for companionship and is willing to do anything.  I probably come off rather naive too.  Apparently there were lessons to be learned about online dating and fortunately I didn't waste too much time learning them.

I am not ready to give up on men, especially European men! But to all romance scammers out there, I may let you break my heart but my bank account?  Not a chance!

PS- since Chris, I have communicated with two other scammers.  But now I am much better at identifying them.

Be Smart; Be Safe; Use an Alias, if you have an uncommon name; Swipe LEFT to PASS; and Don’t GIVE UP -or-

 “You will have to spend the rest of your life knowing that someone else is married to your husband” - When Harry Met Sally 

Camino de Santiago - finding my way!

Candles lite up the entire cathedral of Santiago de Compostela while I stood in line to hug Saint James’ tomb.  I only learned about him three years ago when I was in the midst of ending my marriage to James.  One afternoon a friend and I watched a movie called, The Way.  I am not sure what drew me to the story except I knew that I too wanted to go on this pilgrimage.

At first it was just a crazy passing thought but soon it became a calling.  I purchased books about the Camino de Santiago and started to share my plans with others.  I joined several Camino Meet-up groups and Facebook groups.  After doing countless research, I decided to hire Marily Camino to help me arrange my trip. 

I began to exercise regularly and mentally prepare myself for hours/days of solitude and the physical exhaustion that I was sure to endure.  In retrospect one can’t really prepare for such an adventure.  Physical strength, though very useful, is not enough.  It is one’s shear will and determination that is far more valuable than one’s physical abilities.

As the date got closer, friends asked me what I plan to gain from this trip.  I didn’t really know.  I told my best friend that I would like to let go of anger and find some peace for myself.  Perhaps I will walk and cry; yell ‘fuck you’ to the universe, even God.  Perhaps I just want to show the universe that it can’t break me.  But at the end I want to make peace with God and forgive the universe.

There is no way that I can express in words the feeling that I experienced; the people that I met; and the utter peace that I felt during my hike through Spain.  I can say that it changed my life.  I did not shed any tears; I did not yell at the universe or God, instead I fell in love with it all.  There were many moments of reflection about my struggle with depression.  There were countless analogy that filled my heart with grace.

They say that the Camino gives you what you need, not what you want.  What I wanted was to forgive this universe and especially God without realizing that what I needed was to forgive myself.

I stood behind St. James, as his tomb faced the altar.  I had no angry words for him instead I leaned over gave him a hug and said, “Goodbye James”.    

Wilson

I loved Castaway, the movie.  As a mother, especially during my daughters’ early years, I fantasized about being alone in an island, where no one made any demands on me, I told my therapist.

This Monday morning I reluctantly got in my car and drove to our vet’s office.  As the word cancer fell off his mouth, the word stupid popped into my head.  Yes, stupid. 

I have been so successful these past several years at avoiding men.  The continuing stream of disappointment and self-depreciation are the end result of every relationship I ever ventured with a man.  I have finally resolved myself to the conclusion that I will never pursue any form of relationship which require an ounce of intimacy with a man.  Though I must say that I find it fascinating when my newly divorced friends brave dating, even take chance in remarrying.  I don’t judge; I simply cannot relate. 

My plans are very simple, I need to live, not just exist, but live to my best abilities until June of 2022 when my youngest graduates from high school.  Her graduation will mean the end of my daily/weekly/monthly interaction with her father.  It will also free me to move wherever I chose.  The idea of relocating and starting over excites me.  But most importantly, I like the idea of being completely free of attachments.

My cat does put a hiccup into my plans since she is only 4 years old.  I have considered giving her up for a temporary adoption until I finish my travels and find a semi-permanent home.  So a little over a year ago when I decided to adopt my dog, her age played a huge factor.  I didn’t want a young pup but a mature dog.  In my mind, we will keep each other company until it was time for both of us to depart.  Seemed like a perfect plan!

“So I have to once again prepare myself to say goodbye”, I told my therapist. 

“It was going to be my turn.  I’m supposed to be the one to say goodbye to everyone else.  I feel stupid and completely blindsided, AGAIN”.

“It is interesting that you mentioned Castaway”, my therapist observed.

“Remember Wilson?” He asked. 

“Of course I remember Wilson” I replied.

“Maybe it won’t be a man or even a dog that you allow yourself to get attached to again.  But it is in our nature to long for attachment.  Unfortunately that longing comes with uncertainties.  You can’t avoid attachments” he said.

That’s when I remember that I cried when Wilson floated away.

Seat Filler

When the camera pans out over the audience at the Academy Awards, we, the television viewers, see a crowd of smiling faces in fancy gowns and tuxedos staring back at us. But the image of this crowd is an illusion. Many of those faces are actually those of “seat fillers”, regular people who are granted the opportunity to sit next to the stars when the stars vacate their seats during commercial breaks to present awards, to perform, or whatever. 

I wonder why empty seats makes us uncomfortable.  Does it represent some sort of shortcomings in our lives; do we feel less liked? But more importantly, what are we willing to sacrifice to have all the seats filled in our lives?

When I was searching for my new breakfast room table set, I kept telling myself that I didn’t want a “traditional” four seater table set.  I didn’t want to keep looking at the empty chair and have it constantly remind me that our family wasn’t complete.  So I got creative and found a way to make a table for three.

Recently, I have been thinking a lot about perfect families especially those with all filled seats at the table.  As I look back at my life, I can’t help but identify the times, knowingly or unknowingly, that I served as a “seat filler”.  

I was the son that my parents never had and the spouse that my ex never really wanted to marry.  But our family pictures looked complete and all of seats at our dinner table were filled.  We looked “perfect” but it too was an illusion.

I struggle to explain to my daughters that so much of life isn’t always about what we see. There are missing pieces in every family; there are scars and regrets that pictures cannot capture.  To assume that everyone’s life is “perfect” is to constantly feel that yours is not.  Perhaps perfectionism is the ultimate illusion.
  

I now see our family of three as complete.  It is complete with or without any empty seats.  It is complete because unconditional love and bonds exist between me and my daughters.  I no longer wish to be a “seat filler” in any relationship.  I only want to fill the the emptiness inside my soul and feel complete.

However, I wouldn’t turn down the opportunity to be a seat filler at the Oscars.