Mil Hojas

Some days are ho-hum. Some days are full of motion and emotion. I need both.

“Go down to the bread store and buy two dozen pastries for this morning’s get together,” I said to the gal who helps me in the house. She came back with a yummy treat called Mil Hojas [mill oh-hahs]. It means A Thousand Sheets. The light, layered, crunchy pastry is cut in circles or squares and has a bit of caramel spread in the middle and powdered sugar on top.

Counting the flakey layers in Mil Hojas is impossible. Counting the number of emotions layering my yesterday is impossible, too. Here are just a few instantces.

Nervous about meeting a deadline I rushed myself.

Happy to have my friends over for coffee I let myself relax and chat.

Concerned for a team of missionaries that suffered tragedy I offered help that was accepted.

Heavyhearted I made a prayerful drive to be of service.

Glad to feel as though I was doing something worthwhile I scrubbed, washed and swept.

Thankful that my mother taught me how to work hard with a happy heart I set about busying myself.

Sad as I saw the inguries on the face of my friend’s husband I cringed as I knew the physical pain was a fraction of the huge grief in his heart.

Determined to infuse hope I made small talk and jokes and laughed.

Helpless as we sat at her table to drink tea I listened to her process, saw her cry.

Empathetic as regret disfigured their faces my eyes welled.

Unsure of myself my words failed me and my heart was torn between glad that my friends were not hurt and anger at the circumstance of the accident.

Furious at the devil for taking the lives of those precious young ones I prayed for comfort.

Pragmatic, I left their home and drove to our orphanage just minutes away.

Adored by the children I loved on them with hugs, kisses and smiley astonishment at their little tales they told me.

Delighted, I found solace in putting the finishing touches on a painting on their walls with fun colors and wispy glitter.

Desiring some lighter news I gave our director a ride into the city.

Assumed by her stories I let myself giggle.

Baffled by the fact that social services brought twins to our orphanage when I knew that they were supposed to go to my friend’s home I shook my head.

Proud when our director told me that she offered to dial the phone so that they could talk to my friend at her orphanage so she could give them directions I grinned from ear to ear and made some silly comments.

Grieved as she told her final news about a child who had spent one month with us and then was returned to an abusive situation because the defense lawyers didn’t show up for this child’s hearing and the judge let the dad take him back so that his skull could be smashed and an innocent two year old would lose his life I let hot tears push down my cheeks.

Disgusted by it all I tried to press it off to the side as I went to pick up my kids from a fun afternoon with their papa.

Soothed by the kiss my husband gave me I admired his cheeks flushed by doing what he liked to do.

Generous, I suggested he bowl for a while longer and I would pick him up later.

Warmed by the smiles on my kids’ faces I hugged them before we piled into the truck.

Tired, I showered hoping to wash off some of the day’s grime.

Romantic, I got ready for our weekly retreat called date night.

Relieved to have arrived at these moments of no pressures or duties I relished the bliss of my husband’s companionship.

Mil hojas.

Tagged as: passion