Category Archives: Our Life

I Know You’re Proud

By Michael Armijo

You know, I never really called him daddy. My sister did, and I always envied how he brought that up so many times. But now I can say, “I miss my daddy.” When he died something inside me died. I think it was the first time I realized that I was really on my own. I always felt that dad would “take me in” had I ever made a major mistake in life, had I lost everything and had no place to go. But that feeling is gone, I no longer have a ‘safety net’ in my life. He’s not there to “take me in” anymore. At that time I realized that there was no turning back.

I do miss him, despite the anger he carried and conveyed to me. But what I miss is his strength; and later, his encouragement. He always told me how he admired the way I took on the world if I had a dream. He always said I was so strong to make hard decisions and take action. He loved to watch me work. And he loved working with me. The funny thing is, now that he’s gone I don’t make hard decisions anymore. I don’t take action like I used to. Maybe I was showing off to daddy, trying to be the star above the other kids in our family. But my dad meant so much to all of us, we all tried so hard to be number one in our daddy’s eyes. And fortunately, we all got our turn to be number one. But I almost didn’t get my turn, being the youngest. I got my turn at the end of his life. Had I not confronted him five years before he died, had I not tried to get my turn at being the number one child, I never would’ve received my fifteen minutes of ‘family fame.’

In retrospect, our family never really communicated. I think this is why it took me so long to really get to know my father. It’s kind of strange, we really didn’t know what was deep inside daddy, but we needed to be recognized by him. It meant so much to us to be recognized by someone we often felt was a stranger. And I know that I kept many things to myself, holding many memories prisoner in my mind, and some in my heart, that I never shared with him. He did teach us that we had the ability to do whatever we wanted, but he never really taught us how to communicate. I believe we need clarity; this assures us of where we stand within our lives. We would then teach our children to understand the importance of expression, the importance of how to express our feelings.

When I expressed how I felt to my father, I found out why he treated us the way he did. When we discussed his life and what happened to him when he was a child, the abuse and the neglect he endured (and we ultimately inherited), we understood, together, what happened to him. And what happened to us. But we forgave and we healed. I became more of a complete person; I closed those rough chapters in my life. This is why I believe in the importance of the ‘healing power of expression.’

Although my dad and I became close friends and I got to know him on a personal level, there is something that I always wished he would’ve said to me, something I waited all my life to hear but never did. Something I know he died with, in his heart, but he never verbally gave to me. The five simple words, “I’m so proud of you.” That’s all I ever wanted to hear from my daddy, that’s the one thing that will always be a void at the corner of my soul.

I also realized something that I never thought of: I never told my dad that I was proud of him, either. I am left to wonder if he carried the same disappointment in his life, as I did with mine. But today, what keeps me going is the hope that he’s looking down upon me each day, watching what I do and how my time is being spent. And I believe that he can’t hear what I say, but instead, he can see what’s truly deep within my heart. And as the sun shines warm rays upon me and as the wind whispers through the trees, I can lift my head high and close my eyes and feel his joyous heart whisper that he is so very proud of me; and my heart silently whispers back, that I, too, am very proud of him.

 

Proud of Myself

By Michael Armijo

 

I remember closing my eyes, trying my hardest to embrace the way I felt. I wanted to burn into my memory the feeling of enchantment that overwhelmed me. I wanted the way I felt that evening to last a lifetime.

It wasn’t just dinner and cocktails with some co-workers. It wasn’t just a significant evening for someone special, a celebration of achievement. The evening meant more to me than it did to the person being honored. It was an evening in which I was proud to be included.

With my wife in my arms, I memorized the melody of the song as we slowly moved over the shiny, wooden dance floor. A glance out of the window provided a beautiful view of the city. A look around the room at people I respected and admired filled me with tremendous pride. I will never forget how it felt to be present and included that night.

When I tried to recall the last time I felt this way, it took me back to the 7th Grade. I remember failing all my classes and my teacher, Miss Contreras, helped to change my perspective. She told me that I deserved to be number one; that I deserved to be the best and to feel proud of myself. What she said worked, because I found the path that led me to becoming Student of the Year, along with top grades and a place on the honor roll.

Unfortunately, that feeling was taken from me. Abuse and neglect took those happy moments from my life and traded them for sadness and pain.

Over the years I’ve worked hard to overcome those hard times and make a positive difference in the lives around me. Just as Miss Contreras did for me, I’ve tried to help people find their own path to personal worth, encouraging people to live the life of an achiever; showing people that it can be done.

Because of who I was and where I’ve been, helping others and making a positive contribution has aways meant so much to me. I’ve always dreamed of feeling the satisfaction of making a difference – without conditions or ulterior motives. I’ve waited for the day that I knew my accomplishments were worthy of my intentions.

And that evening – an evening I will forever hold dear in my heart – I stood there with peers of mine whom I respected, with the woman I’ve loved for nearly 30 years, and I felt proud of my life. With a tear in my eye, I realized I have made a difference in the lives around me.

And just as I felt when I won that 7th Grade Student of the Year award, I had earned a feeling that no one could ever take from me. I found the path to fulfillment for what I’ve done with my life, and realized it was okay to feel proud of myself.

 

Something Is Missing

BY MICHAEL ARMIJO

One lesson in life that has stuck to me was a lesson in a psychology class. Pavlov showed his dog a ladle of meat sauce and the dog salivated. He repeated that action, eventually showing the dog the same ladle without the meat sauce. The dog continued to salivate. He called this “condition stimulus.”

I know that many times this condition has given me pleasure, and many times pain, as I’ve sought out unhealthy scenarios because I’ve been in uncomfortable but familiar situations. I did not have the opportunity to enjoy the invisible “meat sauce”.

One particular condition for which I haven’t been able to change the stimulus is the condition of death. I have unfortunately lost eight friends within the last two years, and two of those friends I had spoken to every day. I miss them both terribly.

Recently, one of my friends who had passed had a birthday. I thought about him and his family for days. I had been able to cope until someone many of us know unexpectedly lost his wife. The shock and permanency brought me back to the day my friends had passed; the horror was left for me to experience once again.

My question has to be: what does one do to forget? What’s the key to letting a piece of your life go; a piece of your daily routine? How do you forget the “meat sauce” for which you salivated with happiness and contentment?

It’s those times that were good and abandoned without reason that bring confusion. You are left to wonder, what’s next?

I know that death is a place that entertains no visitors, and answers no questions. It has no pity on any child. It steals like a thief in the night.

I will continue to seek the truth behind the confusion death leaves us with. I will try to understand why we feel the way we do. But during this quest for understanding, I will always be left with the feeling that death came and took something away. We will be left forever feeling that there is just something missing.

 

Just A Thought…

BY MICHAEL ARMIJO

Is Social Media really Anti-Social Media? With the advent of “smart-phones” our communication styles have perhaps become less intelligent. With everything from a lack of actual conversation to cyber bullying, Social Media may be ruining many lives.

Social Media is the apple, and we are Adam and Eve. With it, we’ve tasted the truth; we’ve been empowered. Do we think we are God-like, making our own rules; defying purity; defying morality? Were we ever emotionally equipped for the rapid advancement of the Facebooks, Twitters and Instagrams of this world?

There are now consequences for what we believe is acceptable, according to what the majority of a ‘conversational’ thread dictates. It is sad that our individuality is being convoluted by our need – our greed – to be accepted, loved, and “liked”.

Our need to feel right socially has become our weakness. God said the beast will try and destroy us; could the “beast” be technology? “It” is surely behind this weakness, encouraging some with immorality and introversion. Man created technology, not God. And with this obsessive socialism of technology, could man be unknowingly destroying man? Are we so ‘social’ that we are missing out on society?

Just a thought…

 

Serving Satan

By Michael Armijo

Many years ago, while sitting in the audience at EV Free Church in Diamond Bar at the start of a new year, pastor Mark Hopper asked a very thought provoking question: “What are you going to do to minister God’s word to others this year?”

At first, I felt that showing up to church was enough; I’ve given up time and energy to be here ‘missing out’ on the rest of life so that I can pray to God and be a good person. This was a lot for me, so why should I do more than that for God?

And then I remembered all the things I did before I found Jesus: I lied to my fellow man; I became drunk with wine and spirits; I invited others to join me at the bar to get drunk; I had lust in my eye; I was envious, dishonest; and the list goes on. I was telling people, by my actions, that I was proud to be a sinner. And I subconsciously asked them to follow me.

It was at that time I realized something. Practicing all those sins really meant that I was serving Satan. I was promoting his sinning ways, and when I did it in front of others, I was encouraging them to practice sin, too. I was looking for victims who were lost to come join me in my debauchery, depression, and lust. I didn’t mean to do it intentionally, but it was intentional because I was practicing sin, over and over again.

So what’s the difference between serving Satan and serving God? Why shouldn’t I serve God? Why not be proud to be a Christian by practicing his word, praying openly in public, and answering the phone, “Praise the Lord.” Why not invite friends to church instead of to a bar? Why not spread the word about life, love, and the pursuit of Jesus? Why not?

Today I serve God’s word. Today I practice God’s love. In 1 John 4:18 I read, “Love is Fearless.” Today I love my children without fear. Today I love my wife without fear. Today I love my past without fear. Today I love my God without fear. Today I am no longer a prisoner, because today I no longer serve Satan.

Redemption

BY MICHAEL ARMIJO

 

One day, my friend told me a story about a freshman in high school named David that touched me so deeply. This is what I call, Redemption:

David saw a kid named Ron walking home from school. It looked like Ron was carrying home all of his books, which was strange because classes aren’t all on the same day. He thought to himself, “Why would anyone bring home all his books on a Friday? He must really be a nerd.” But he shrugged his shoulders and went on.

As he was walking, David saw a bunch of kids running toward Ron, knocking his books out of his arms and tripping him. Ron’s glasses went flying and landed in the grass. When David handed the glasses to him, he looked up he saw this terrible sadness in Ron’s eyes. Somehow he felt his pain.

David said, “Those guys are jerks. They really should get lives.”

Ron looked at him and lowly said, “Thanks.”

There was a slight smile on Ron’s face. It was one of those smiles that showed real gratitude. David helped him pick up his books, and as it turned out, Ron lived near David. They talked all the way home and Ron turned out to be a pretty cool kid.

Over the next four years, Ron and David became best friends. When they were seniors, they began to think about college. Ron decided on Georgetown, and David was going to Duke. They knew that they’d always be friends, and that the miles would never be a problem.

Ron became valedictorian of their class, and had to prepare a speech for graduation. David was so glad that he didn’t have to get up there and speak.

On graduation day Ron looked great. He was one of those guys that really found himself during high school. All the girls loved him. David was just jealous. He could see that Ron was nervous about his speech, so David smacked him on the back and said, “Hey, big guy, you’ll be great!” He looked at David with one of those looks (that really grateful one) and smiled.

As he started his speech, he cleared his throat, and began.

“Graduation is a time to thank those who have helped you make it through those tough years; your parents, your teachers, your siblings, maybe a coach…but mostly, your friends. I am here to tell all of you that being a friend to someone is the best gift you can give them. I’m going to tell you a story.”

David looked at his friend with disbelief as he told the story of the first day they met. Ron talked of the day he had cleaned out his locker. He talked of how he was distraught about his life. He talked about how lonely he was. So lonely, he had planned to kill himself that weekend. But he didn’t, because his new friend unknowingly stepped in. He showed kindness. He showed compassion. He showed, by his actions, that life is worth the struggle. Ron looked hard at David and gave him a little smile.

“Thankfully, I was saved,” David continued. “My friend saved me from doing the unspeakable.”

David heard the gasp go through the crowd as this handsome, popular boy told them about his weakest moment. He saw Ron’s mom and dad looking at him and smile with that same grateful smile. Not until that moment did David realize its depth.

It was then that David realized how important it is to never underestimate the power of one’s actions. With one small gesture you can change a person’s life – for the better, or for the worse.

The most compelling element about the story of Ron and David’s friendship is how it relates to so many lives. Personally, I’ve hoped that somewhere within my past that I’ve been a “David” to someone I’ve met. And what fills my spirit with even more emotion is that I know I’ve felt like a “Ron” many times. What perplexes me is that I don’t know which role I’ve felt more often.

Someone once said, “Friends are angels who lift us to our feet when our wings have trouble remembering how to fly.” To so many, each day, this is true. I’ve always valued my friends with depth and sincerity. I’ve always believed in the importance of being friends, and the importance of having friends.

As the story continues, it emphasizes that there is no beginning or end. Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is mystery. But today is a gift. This reminds me that giving the ultimate gift of friendship is what I call the inner spirit of your heart, and that gives us the true feeling of redemption.

Run The World 2K15

BY ANDREW RODRIGUEZ

 

In December of 2012, after flying home to California for winter break and concluding my sophomore year at Rutgers University, my father sat my brother and me down in our kitchen and turned off the television. My mom had an unusual look on her face, which I had never seen before.  Then he said three words that nobody should ever have to hear, “I have cancer.”

The City of Hope National Medical Center treated my dad in February of 2013 for his prostate cancer diagnosis.  He had his prostate surgically removed, and was in recovery for several months afterward.  I am very lucky to have my dad around today because of this hospital, but some of my friends have not been as fortunate.

Run the World 2K15 will take place in March of 2015.  This month long philanthropic event will be held to raise money for The City of Hope, one of Southern California’s largest research hospitals for Cancer and HIV research.  My teammates and I will be running five half-marathons in five weeks, circling the planet and running in countries that have a high cancer rate.

The five-week event will begin and conclude at Rutgers University, signifying a journey around the world to promote cancer awareness.  We would like to raise $30,000, or about a dollar for every mile travelled around the world.  Each race will be dedicated to a close family member or friend who has suffered or passed away from cancer.  A loved one will also be running the race in memory or honor of their dedicated individual.  Here is our race schedule:

 

  • , March 8: Semi-Marathon De Paris, Paris, France.  In Memory of Terry Cardoza.
  • , March 13: Jerusalem Marathon and Half-Marathon, Jerusalem, Israel. In Memory of John Perez.
  • , March 22: Twilight Run for Cancer, Brisbane, Australia. In Memory of Michael Miyamoto.
  • , March 28: Pacific Half-Marathon, Agoura Hills, California. In Honor of Frank Rodriguez.
  • , April 12: Rutgers Unite Half Marathon, Rutgers University, New Jersey.In Memory of Sandy Wang Chiang.

 

I have five teammates who will be traveling to specific races to run in memory of their loved one.  Addam Rodriguez, Jaclyn Miyamoto, Emerald Chiang and I are all graduates of Walnut High School. Addam and Emerald are both running for their moms who passed away from cancer.  Jaclyn is running for her brother, Michael, who lost his battle in 2012.

 

If you would like to donate to this worthwhile cause or find out more information on Run The World 2K15, you can email Team Leader Andrew Rodriguez at andrewedrod@verizon.net, or visit his personal page at: http://nationalevents.cityofhope.org/site/TR/HopeSweatampCures/General?px=2008425&pg=personal&fr_id=2370

            Andrew’s team can be emailed at runtheworld2k15@gmail.com, or visit their web page at:  

http://nationalevents.cityofhope.org/site/TR/HopeSweatampCures/General?pg=team&fr_id=2370&team_id=44472

The team’s Project Manager, Danielle Sapia, can be emailed at dsapia@coh.org.    

 

 

Who Determines Our Path?

BY MICHAEL ARMIJO

While driving one day, I noticed a young man sitting on a park bench. You could tell he was in despair, the way he was just sitting there, staring at the ground. He looked like he had given up.

The man was wearing a muddy shirt, dirty tan pants, a large trash bag that he used as a backpack, and a pair of almost unrecognizable tennis shoes. His hair was filthy and matted, and he sported an untrimmed beard that looked as though it had been chopped in sections with a dull pair of scissors.

He sat there as though he had no place to go. His head hung down; his eyes seemingly entranced on the ground. The scene reminded me of a small child, bored, thinking he didn’t have a friend in the world. I could see hopelessness and sadness in this man’s demeanor.

As the cars sped by on the street, the man got up and walked in a slow-paced journey to nowhere. Had he stepped into oncoming traffic, I would have been horror-struck, but not surprised. It would have appeared as though another tragic life had ended without a cause, without a clue, and without a care.

He didn’t look angry, but had he been I could have imagined him attacking. Why not lash out at society if you don’t care what happens to you? Why not “get even?” This is a sad logic, but as one who watches the news, its today’s reality.

As I looked at the man, I wondered if society had failed him; but how much truth does that hold? How responsible is society for the ones that are lost? I believe we have to ask ourselves, who determines our path? Who maps out our life? We’ve heard so many excuses about responsibility through blame and denial that we allow ourselves to label our lives as dysfunctional. And then we wonder why we turn out differently than others.

After the experiences I’ve had in life, I now believe we are the creators of our own destiny. We determine where we go, who we are, and who we become. After pointing the finger at society for too long, we need to take responsibility for ourselves. HOWEVER, I will add that as parents, we ARE responsible for providing an honest and fair life, a loving and caring environment, a responsible and healthy example, and a thorough and extensive education for our children. Of course, we shouldn’t condemn ourselves if our children do not turn out the way we had hoped. As human beings, there comes a point in time where we need to look ourselves in our own eyes and say; “I honestly did the best I could, with no regrets.” Why wish for the chance to do things over, when that is not a possibility? You can only change who you are right now, and move forward doing your best.

I believe that there will be a day of judgment. And on that day we will be forced to look into our own souls and really see who determined our path. So to that young man on the park bench, I hope you are happy with your path.

 

It’s Been Five Years Without You

BY JENNIFER MADRIGAL

 

WARNING: Tissues are required.

 

A Letter To My Mom: It’s been five years since we lost you. Five long and sad years in which I haven’t heard your voice, felt your hug and smelled your scent. It’s been five years since you looked in my eyes; five years since I held your hand; five years since I brushed your hair; and five years since I felt your heart beat for the last time.

It’s been five years since we laid you to your final rest, with roses and butterflies gently landing on you as we lowered you into the ground. Five years since we watched each shovel of soil cover you farther away from us. It’s been five years since we struggled to come up with the perfect gravestone, trying to sum up such a wonderful life in 120 characters or less.

It’s been five years since I whispered in your ear, “You can go, I’ll take care of them.” Five years since I took your place dancing with your son in what should have been your dance. It’s been five years since my measure of time didn’t always include, “before my mom died.” It’s been five years since our world stood still, but the people around us didn’t seem to understand and went on living.

It’s been five years since I’ve really taken a deep breath and not felt the little sting of that hollow part of my heart. It’s been five years.

But…it’s been three years since your fourth grandson came along and brightened our world with his smile. It’s been one year since your fifth grandson came along and did the same. I look at my two newest nephews and I see you there in their smiles, their silly laughs and their eyes. I see you in the eyes of Isaiah, and remember all the fun you had with me when I was a teenager and drove you crazy. I hear you in the way Andrew always messes up his words, just like you used to do. And I feel you in the long, far-off gazes that Nicholas gives out of nowhere. I know you are there with him, guiding him along.

So although it’s been five years without you, it really hasn’t. You may not be physically here anymore, but you are still here. You are here in every smile on the face of your five grandsons. You are here with your son as he guides his young boys and shares his stories of you. You are there every time I look in the mirror and your eyes look back at me. So even though it’s been five years since we lost you, we’re all doing okay.

September is Ovarian Cancer Awareness Month. Find out about the signs and symptoms by visiting http://www.ovariancancer.org

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Power Of A Child

BY MICHAEL ARMIJO

 

We go through life and we grow, we build, we conquer, we reach our successful arenas; our niche in life. We overcome things we never dreamt we could possibly overcome. We accomplish the impossible. Then we reflect and feel this power about ourselves, the power of controlling our lives and accomplishing what we need to. We feel strong and purposeful; in control of our own destiny.

And then one day, by an act from God, a 60 pound, 4 foot 1 inch person rips away every sense of power that we’ve worked all our lives to obtain.

I’ve felt helpless at times in my life, but have always felt that I could overcome anything life gives me. But strength, intelligence, and endurance cannot compete with certain elements that come into our lives, seemingly as an act of God. Only God could show us how love can make us feel powerful…or powerless.

When her tiny voice cried out I could hear the weakness in the tone. She looked frail, lethargic, and felt much warmer than she should have. I could sense the virus creeping into her weak little body; she lay exhausted and motionless as her fever climbed to 102 degrees. My child was sick.

Motivated by strength I rise to the occasion and I’m determined to stay by her side and make her well – for as long as it takes (but deep inside I feel afraid and helpless). Intelligence kicks in and I start the bath water running and carry her to the cool water.

Feeling even more helpless as her fever hits 104 AFTER the bath, I call for help. The fear escalates as the paramedics take my child away and I follow them to the hospital. As doctors and nurses attend to her my eyes fill with tears. I spend a sleepless night at her bedside.

I sit slumped over in a chair next to her bed, head in hands, exhausted. My mind starts wandering, and I begin to wonder, is it worth it? Is the responsibility of this little person too much? Does the giving, sharing and loving balance out with the worry and fear?

And then, I feel this soft little touch on my hand as tiny fingers try to interlace with my own. I hear this little voice whisper, “I love you, Daddy.” I feel the tears run down my cheeks and I’m overwhelmed with relief. I look up at my girl and see a hint of a smile, reassuring me that she is better. That little ray of sunshine feeds my soul, and I’m feeling better, too

As she feels stronger, I feel stronger. I embrace my child and feel some of my power being restored and I begin to understand. The moment she was born I relinquished all of my power to her. She is the source that can bring me to the highest of highs, and the lowest of lows.

And so it is with children. They motivate us, give us strength, and show us the power of love. They are worth every worry, every tear, every laugh, and every moment of our time. The power of a child is the power of love.

 

 

Be Careful What You Wish For

BY ROBERT S. HUFF

A country preacher decided to skip services one Sunday and head to the hills to do some bear hunting. As he rounded the corner on a perilous twist in the trail, he and a bear collided, sending him and his rifle tumbling down the mountainside.

Before the preacher knew it, his rifle went one way and he went the other, landing on a rock and breaking both legs. That was the good news. The bad news was the ferocious bear charging at him from a distance, and he couldn’t move.

“Oh, Lord,” the preacher prayed, “I’m so sorry for skipping services today to come out here and hunt. Please forgive me and grant me just one wish. Please make a Christian out of that bear that’s coming at me. Please, Lord!”

That very instant, the bear skidded to a halt, fell to its knees, clasped its paws together and began to pray aloud right at the preacher’s feet. Then the bear said: “Dear God, please bless this food that I am about to receive!”

What Love Is

BY JENNIFER MADRIGAL

Jennifer

I learned my greatest lesson about love from my Grandpa Jester. Surprisingly, the lesson came long after his mind and memories had left him, and all that remained was just what he was at his core. My grandpa loved his family and his wife, and was genuinely kind to everyone. He stood for what he believed and defended his thoughts passionately, but with respect. When he was wronged, he looked at both sides and didn’t always assume he was right. But most of all, my grandpa was truly a good man.

Alzheimer’s disease came and stole parts of his mind and most of his memoires. While many people with this disease lose their “filters” and become increasingly more difficult, my grandpa stayed kind. Often times he would hop up and try and help out with the chores he always did. He would still make jokes and then forget the punch line, but laugh anyway. As his disease progressed, the secret winks he used to always give me from across the room stopped, and at that point I knew he had really forgotten me. However, he once told me that he couldn’t remember who I was but that he did know that he sure did love me. With all the great moments I shared with him, I always knew I was loved without end and that he was always proud of me. When my mother passed away, he sat at her funeral, tears streaming down his face, reliving her passing like a repeating loop in a bad movie. Although he wasn’t sure exactly what was going on, he knew we were all hurting and it broke his heart.

 

The moment that I really understood what it means to love another person came one morning after my grandma had learned that her brother died. My grandpa sat in his chair watching her as she tried to hide the anguish she was feeling. Although we tried to keep him from seeing her upset, he continued to watch her and then stood up with his shaking legs and bad balance and walked into the kitchen with her. He took her into his arms and hugged her tight, telling her it would be okay. He saw her pain, and knew that “his girl” was hurting. That moment was so profound and even years later I can still see the look of concern on his face. At that moment I understood that love is not a word you say because it makes people smile, love is something that lives on long after your memories fade. It is what you know and feel at the very core of your being. When you truly love someone their pain becomes your pain and even when lost in the cloud of Alzheimer’s, or age, or whatever else, that love remains. To me, that’s what love is.

 

 

Action And Reaction

By Michael Armijo

 

While at the ATM drive-through, a woman straddled both lanes in a two-lane aisle. I’ve been there a thousand times and not one person has ever straddled these lanes; they just pick one. Sometimes the line moves quickly, other times you have to wait while the cars next to you move right through. It’s a gamble, but we make a decision and we accept it.

Maybe it was the long day or maybe I just felt short-tempered, but while the woman straddled the lanes, I went around her car, and I picked the left lane. She got out of her vehicle and told me, “I’ve been waiting, you can’t go around me.” I explained my version of the unwritten policy of the drive-through ATM machine. She angrily got back into her car and waited again. As I drove up to the machine, I felt so uncomfortable. I knew she shouldn’t have just sat there, straddling both lanes, but who am I to react to her misdirection? The uncomfortable feeling made me sick inside, knowing that I never should have gone around her. So I backed up, allowed her to go first, calling out to her, “I’m sorry, go ahead of me.” She pulled up to the machine, finished her transaction, and her last words were, “Thank you for being fair.”

I believe the true essence of being a complete individual begins with the ability to communicate and present issues, views, and concerns in a dignified, fair, and understandable manner. Simple people do not get caught up in the unfairness in life. They do not listen with anger and retort with vengeance. They respond instead of react. And it’s their simplicity that keeps them humble and dignified. Simple people see or experience tragedy and work through it and not around it. Complicated people tend to do the opposite.

I also believe in responsibility. Not to just go to work, pay the mortgage, and get the kids to school, but to actually enforce that responsibility on the inside. We should not just promote a good life, but actually believe it and live it – at our jobs, in our society, and toward our fellow man – without pretense; with simplicity.

When I pulled in front of the woman at the ATM machine, I knew she was misdirected, and yet I reacted to her misdirection instead of responding to it. If it meant that much to me to not wait behind someone who couldn’t make a decision, I should’ve communicated with her. And if it didn’t mean that much to me, then I just should have just waited behind her and not given it another thought. Instead, I almost ruined her entire day, and who knows what that reaction could have done to her family and friends, and so on.

I believe that we, as a society, need to remember how important and how powerful we really are. We need to understand the true meaning of sharing experiences, being honest, open, and sincere. It will bring peace when you remember that you have so much to contribute to life rather than wasting it on bitterness, anger, frustration, or unfairness. Don’t just react, but respond accordingly and focus on the good things.

I believe the truest form of life is not just having the power to get your way, but using your power to help others find their way. That is a great reaction.

My Son, My Sun

By Michael Armijo

 

I sat there on the brown, lacquered bar stool, with my arms on the counter, my face in my palms, and then the crowd walked in. Although there was a group of them, one stood out like a court jester on the royal throne. He was obviously the life of the party.

In a beat of the heart, I saw a reflection of myself as the loud, happy, party-goer. I remembered being that young man, feeling life on the edge, living with joyful enthusiasm. And then in another beat of the heart, I saw something else that scared the hell out of me. I saw a reflection of my son.

You see, the life I once lived, I am not proud. And I was scared for my son. I knew he would have to endure many of the emotions whose presence must move us. I knew he would have no choice but to learn many lessons the hard way. And I knew he would have to travel some paths that I too had to endure.

But I was still afraid. I didn’t want him to have to deal with the problems that I was exposed to: the adult decisions I made as a child; wandering through life guideless and fearful. To walk a path that my heart still refuses to acknowledge existed. I was afraid for him. Although he was older at the time, he was still my little boy.

I still remember how proud I was, when for the first time, he reached first base in Little League. I remember how I felt when he caught the winning pass during his first season of playing football. He is a grown man now, but I can still remember his tiny little smile, and his cute little “Ricky Ricardo” hair style. I can still remember his playful joy, and his childish, comedic grace. Always giggling, always dreaming of being a superhero – a Ninja Turtle, Batman, or Spiderman. The many Halloweens allowed him to be them all.

Although I miss those days, the days of holding him completely in my arms, I can still feel his childish warmth. My son makes me feel proud over and over again. His kindness, his joy, his talent, and most importantly, his gentle heart, brings waves of radiance that shine on my soul. He is not just my son, but the ray of light that come from his wonderful heart brings me all the light in the world. My son will always be the light in my life, because he will always be my ever-burning Sun.

Lost Love

By Michael Armijo

I stood there in the courtyard, and waited. Her little eyes, her bright smile, her warm hugs…I was waiting for them all. It would be just a few minutes before that bell would ring, it would be just a few minutes before my little love of life would run out smiling, wrapping her arms around me proclaiming, “Daddy, I love you.”

The bell rang and I stood there. I watched; I waited. I sought her out, but she didn’t show. Hundreds of kids ran by and I made eye contact with each and every one of them. There wasn’t a chance that she would’ve gotten by me. My mind knew what she looked like, what she resembled, and all her characteristics. I was like a machine, scanning the crowd, like a robot with a mission. I was waiting for someone who made my life complete, who I had given my heart to, who I trusted with my feelings, my spirit, my life.

After most of the children passed me by, I felt a sensation of panic. I felt a sense of fear. I was afraid that I had lost one of the only people in life that I knew loved me, unconditionally, and now, who would be there in the end?

When I felt that panic, when I felt the fear of losing someone I really loved, I wondered why. Why did I feel so fearful? Why was I so afraid? Why did I feel such a sense of panic? And then I remembered what had happened.

I remembered my mother, my father, my family. I remembered how much they loved me, how they took care of me. I remembered giving my 8-year old heart to those who I thought I could trust. And then I remembered how one day my life changed. I still don’t recall how, and I still can’t understand why, but for some strange reason, when I was growing up my life was filled with love and joy, and then one day it was all taken away. All that I knew as a child, all that I trusted, was ripped from my heart, and then ripped from my soul. And no one explained why.

After the inconsistency of that environment, I found new love from girlfriends in high school. And then they too, like my family, left me, and took parts of my heart with them. I remember, at 16 years of age, standing in the aisle of Sav-on, stocking shelves, while tears poured from my eyes. I was hurt, I was devastated, and I was alone. Again, someone whom I had given my heart to had taken away a piece of my inner self. And again, they left without a word.

It took so long for me to love again, to fully trust people, but somehow I did. I began to give my heart, or what was left of it, to others whom I felt I could trust. I slowly began to rebuild my life, or so I thought.

The way I felt that day so many years ago when I couldn’t find my daughter, when that sleeping giant of fear woke up and looked around – I remembered the pain, and the sorrow and I remembered how much love hurt. I guess that when I waited for her, those feelings of abandonment returned, and I was afraid of losing yet another love in my life. I didn’t have much heart left to lose; I couldn’t stand to go through what I had experienced so many times, and so many years ago. But I faced those demons of fear and abandonment and grew from my pain. I simply refused to let my past interfere with my future. I had worked too hard to let irresponsible acts of yesterday interfere with what I had built for today. That day, I found my daughter, and I faced my fears.

As each day passes, I thank God for the opportunity to feel feelings and emotions that some people will never feel. I thank God for being able to enjoy my life with a smile and a hug. More importantly, I thank God for allowing me to understand that someday I may lose the ones I love, but not to fear, because today is the day I will enjoy their presence, their love, and their joy. And when they’re gone, I will still make wonderful memories, so that I can remember that God has given me a beautiful place in my soul – free from past pain, free from fear and abandonment, and free from lost love.

The Eye Of The Beholder

By Michael Armijo

It was a warm yet windy day filled with strong sorrow. The air reflected a deep sense of respect as people gathered to say goodbye to a friend whose spirit had left the earth.
As everyone gathered, the vibrant, wooden casket lay atop the ground as the family huddled closely around. The youngest, a young man, gazed at the casket while tears flowed from his swollen eyes. He walked up and laid his cheek on the rigid, shiny, wooden box, as his white-gloved hands gently caressed the top of the last home his father’s body would ever have. He laid gentle kisses on the top of the casket, as his unconditional love was reflected in front of all those who watched. A gentle whisper was heard a row back, “Did you see that? How sad.”
When I heard those words, I felt something deep inside that disagreed; something that didn’t see the message of sadness when the boy showed his emotions. Instead, I saw an act of love. A love so strong, it displayed the true meaning of unconditional love. Something deep inside that didn’t care if the world looked on or what people felt. A feeling of purity, of joy, and of strength.
I believe the old saying, “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” I believe we all see life in certain light, and sometimes, in certain darkness. I also believe that when we express the darkness which surrounds our lives, it spreads like a contagious and cancerous disease. It attaches by simple contact, clings like a dependent child, and deteriorates in a short amount of time.
I’ve learned that opinions are only perceptions of a person’s immediate thinking, and reflections of someone’s inner self. What we see is usually what we feel, what we feel deep inside. Without realizing it, we express past experiences, deep histories, insecurities about our future, and we reflect the perception of our own lives.
I also believe that when we see life in its darkest hour, we have the opportunity to see life through the brightest light. For some, it’s a short path traveled to a place inside that holds our mind hostage from our heart. For others, it’s a level of confidence that sits deep within that’s been damaged by a careless act from another.
I believe that the true meaning of life can only be understood through the light of beauty and the inner joy that sits deep in our hearts. I believe the vision of what will come can only be seen through the eyes of a believer. I feel the truest form of emotion can only be felt when a person can feel the presence of a higher power, a stronger entity, something or someone greater than themselves.
I understand that life is not always what it is expected to be. It changes moods like a spoiled child. But I also understand that life can be what we want it to be; all we have to do is apply our hearts in front of our minds. Following what we truly feel, not what we think we see, is the only way to put aside our petty angry thoughts and our insignificant bitterness. Because just as the young man who helped bury his father, the tears that flow from our swollen eyes are tears of love that can only be seen when beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

No Parking

 

Pastor Mark Hopper Diamond Bar

Pastor Mark Hopper

By Pastor Mark Hopper

My family and I came to our church here in Diamond Bar over 25 years ago.  Our church had only one building at that time and a limited number of parking spaces. On a big Sunday, we actually had to ask some people to park on the lawn.  Today, our worship center sits on the site where the lawn used to be. As our church grew over the years, we have been able to add some new buildings and increase the number of parking spaces on our property.

On Easter Sunday parking is always at a premium.  I’m sure this is true for most of the churches in our area.  You never have enough parking on Easter. Some churches provide shuttles from other parking lots nearby.  We don’t have a shuttle, but we have thought about asking our Junior High ministry to provide free Valet Parking (just kidding).

We have parking agreements with some of the businesses near our church.  They can use our parking lots during the week and we can use their lots on Sunday. We also ask people to “park and walk” by using these satellite parking lots and walking across the street to our campus. The result has been that on Easter Sunday our on-site parking lots look empty, because so many people “park and walk.”  If you visit our church on Easter Sunday, I can guarantee that you will find plenty of parking spots.

My question is, why can’t we get more people to do this on the other 51 weeks of the year?

I hope you are planning to attend a church near you this Easter, April 20th.  Don’t try to make excuses for not going because there may not be enough parking. If you don’t have a church home, please accept this invitation to celebrate with us on Easter Sunday.  I’m sure that there will be plenty of parking for you and your family!

Pastor Mark Hopper

Evangelical Free Church of Diamond Bar

3255 South Diamond Bar Blvd

(909) 594-7604

Good Friday Service: 7 p.m., April 18

Easter Sunday Services: 8, 9:30 and 11 a.m.

Website: www.efreedb.org

San Gabriel Valley: Having Some Faith In Our Youth

BY NANCY STOOPS 

 

Licensed Marriage Family Therapist

Nancy Stoops M.A., M.F.T Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist

Soon they will be running our country and have children of their own.  Soon they will be telling their children all the things we told them.  I have had the honor of working with thousands of kids and teens of this generation and I’m here to tell you that they are amazing.

 

Now keep in mind there is good and bad in every generation, but I think we have misjudged this one.  Yes, some of them have dabbled with drugs and alcohol and some are even afraid to grow up.  On the other hand, many of them are working on making this world a better place.  The problem is we more often hear the stories about how they are shooting their classmates instead of some of their heroic measures.

 

Just as we did, they are crying out to be accepted and valued.  We shouldn’t put a label of lazy or frightened on this batch of youth because then they might become just that.  Instead we need to guide them and encourage them to grow into who God intends them to be.  This generation is very gifted in so many ways.  They care about making our world a better place, but are frustrated because they don’t know where to begin since we have so many problems.  I see many future psychotherapists, environmentalists, lobbyists, songwriters, singers, and attorneys.   I have had youth that are interested in pursuing careers in the mental health field come and observe my support groups.  I have had some even help me with my groups.  Mentoring can make a huge difference in a young person’s life.  Mentoring can offer hope and guidance.

 

Please don’t give up our or youth because that means giving up on our world.  Help guide and encourage them to grow into adults that we can be proud of.  Teach them to not give up on themselves because each one of them can make a difference.

 

This article was written by Nancy Stoops, M.A., M.F.T.  Nancy is a licensed Marriage and Family Therapist.  She runs free family support groups, a group on loss for seniors, and groups for teens.  For more information about any of these services feel free to page her at (626) 935-3818.  You may also email her at stoopsshecter@earthlink.net. Nancy’s book, “Live, Heal and Grow” is available for purchase at www.RoseDogBookstore.com or Amazon.com.

 

 

 

Diamond Bar: Opening Day

Pastor Mark Hopper Diamond Bar

Pastor Mark Hopper

BY PASTOR MARK HOPPER  

 

When I was young, I remember my grandfather taking me and my brother to a big league baseball game.  Arizona did not have any Major League Baseball teams at that time, but we would go to a game during Spring Training.  It was exciting to see big name players like Ernie Banks and Willy Mays in person.  That was a long time ago.

 

Now that we live in Southern California, it is possible to go to big league games all summer long.  For several years we actually had season tickets for the Angels.  It was fun to go to games week after week with our family and friends.  There is something about being at the game that makes it special.  The atmosphere is casual and people talk and eat throughout the game.  And, then there are moments of suspense and excitement when the bases are loaded and our team hits a Grand Slam home run.

 

Opening Day has special significance.  It is the day when a team plays its first game of the new season on its home field.  The fans are excited, the field is perfectly groomed and there is a great sense of anticipation and hope for the new season. I know there are a lot of things that you can do with your kids in Southern California, but I hope you will consider taking them to a baseball game this summer.  Both the Angels and the Dodgers are worth seeing.

 

Whether you are a parent or grandparent, don’t miss the opportunity to make a memory this year. Go see a big league baseball game with your kids or grandkids.  It will be something they will remember for a long, long time.  And, you will remember it, too!

 

Pastor Mark Hopper

Evangelical Free Church of Diamond Bar

3255 South Diamond Bar Blvd.

(909) 594-7604

Sunday Services: 9 and 10:45 a.m.

Easter Sunday: 8, 9:30 and 11 a.m.

Website: www.efreedb.org