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Archive for ‘lessons learned’

November 18th, 2011

the {third} greatest love story of my life

This post originally first appeared in October 2011 as a guest post for the site, Love of Family and Home.

I call this the third greatest love story of my life.  Why is it the third? Well the first greatest love story of my life is the story of Christ redeeming my soul and saving me from death and separation from God.  I did nothing to deserve or merit this forgiveness and love, and this is an unfailing, unconditional love. It’s the single greatest love story of my life.  The second greatest love story of my life is the story I share with my husband; from how we met to this very day in our life, we are a living testimony of the goodness and grace of God.

So now we’re here at the third greatest love story of my life.  It began when I was 7 years old and I found out my parents were getting divorced. I remember it was the summer before I started 3rd grade and it was the last time I saw my parents in the same room. Tensions ran high and I was so confused; over the next ten years I only saw my father twice, both times overseas, where he had moved after the divorce.

By the 6th year of his absence, I had resolved I would never see him again; I knew nothing of his whereabouts, he was pretty much a stranger to me.

I heard from my dad a few of times through out my college years, during that time he moved half way across the world. I can’t say for sure what prompted him to contact me, but I am sure it must have had something to do with him seeing pictures of me visiting his family during my college years. I think the photos made their way into my father’s hands and he saw my little cousin (who was a spitting image of me in my younger years) standing next to a woman he vaguely recognized (a grown up me) he felt the need to make contact. No matter the reasoning, the phone calls always ended with a promise to talk the next day, but the next day turned into the following day and that turned into years of eagerly waiting by the phone that never rang.

In 1999 I accepted Jesus as my Lord and Savior, my free bridge to heaven and eternity with God. As I began learning about the Lord and his characteristics, I really struggled with understanding God’s love as unconditional and eternal; without an earthly father as a role model, it was hard for me to see God as the perfect father he is. Eventually, I learned to accept that God would never leave me or forsake me and I also accepted that even if I never did know my earthly father, I was fortunate enough to be chosen to know my heavenly Father.

A few years after I graduated from college I received a phone call one day while I was at work; it was my father. At this point I hadn’t spoken to him in nearly 3 years and I had not seen him in almost ten years; I was shocked by the call. I found myself bombarding him with as many questions as I could think of because all I kept thinking was, “this may be your only chance to know anything about your father, Bianca, so you better ask now, or forever hold your peace.” I asked what I could, and got the answers to satisfy my curiosity.

We ended our phone call that day with no promises of future communications, so when I received another call from him 4 months later, on my birthday, I was surprised to say the least. It was the first birthday I can remember where my dad actually called me on my birthday. It was a very special day, that 26th birthday, one that I’ll never forget.

In October, my dad called again; this was the third time in one year I had talked to him, an incident that had never happened in my life. It was during this conversation that my dad revealed to me he would be in Texas at the end of the year and asked if I would be interested in meeting up with him. He told me he would like to talk in person and that he was willing to answer any questions I had for him, he was basically asking for a chance to start over in our relationship. I was speechless; I always imagined I would be the one tracking him down and demanding answers from him.

Obviously the Lord had different plans for our reconciliation!

I had no idea where to begin with him…what if I agonized over some list of unanswered questions, and then I met him face to face only to realize all my questions are meaningless compared to the chance to be reconciled with him? Or, what if that wouldn’t be the case? What if I was overcome with emotion and I treated him in such a way that he would regret meeting with me in the first place?

I viewed my father as a stranger; and yet I was drawn toward him with such a strong underlying bond. Even though I harbored resentment and fear from his abandonment, I still had a desire to know him. I feel like many things in my life have been directly (and indirectly) affected because of my (lack of a) relationship with my earthly father. As terrified as I was of another disappointment, I couldn’t let this opportunity pass me by; I agreed to meet him.

The weekend finally came and I invited my best friend to make the drive with me to meet my dad. Almost the entire drive I was overcome with fear that he wouldn’t really be there and that I would not actually be meeting my father after all. My friend assured me this was not a fear I should have, but even if it was the case, I should be reminded that no matter what that weekend held in store, God was still in control and he was good. Amen! We pulled in to the parking lot of where we were meeting him and as we neared the door, I noticed a man standing inside peering out. I turned to my friend and told her, “Hey, that looks like it could be my dad.” She chuckled and said it could be anyone.

But it wasn’t just anyone.

It was my dad.

Saying goodbye to my dad after our first reunion in 2007.

There he was standing just inside the hotel doors peering out looking for me. Waiting anxiously for me to arrive. In fact, I later found out he had been waiting all morning. He was pacing back and forth just waiting for me to arrive. My dad, the one I feared wouldn’t really be there, was in fact there, and he was waiting for me! Instantly he came over and greeted me, hugged me and kissed me on the cheek. It was so surreal to be there with my dad embarking on a new road, a road to rebuilding our broken relationship.

Looking back on that day, it reminds me of the story of the prodigal son, because of the way that we met and the excitement we shared for our reunion, not so much because I had been eating with pigs or squandering my inheritance.

During the weekend my father and I came across some things that were painful to talk about. The main one being my father’s decision to no longer be able to be part of my life after my parents divorced. This was hard to hear – that he actually made this decision, but I think once I understood the full picture of what really went on leading up to the divorce, I was able to see things from his standpoint and it brought some clarity.

For all the difficult moments we waded through, there were also some very sweet ones too. I felt like I found a missing piece of my life in my dad; not that I was lacking anything in Christ, but it was neat to see parts of my personality personified in someone other than myself. My father has a passion for reading, and an inquisitive nature – both of those things are part of who I am, yet my mother and brother do not share those traits with me. Seeing that first hand made me reflect on how much sweeter will this be in heaven when we meet our Maker and see so many of His traits in ourselves; we were made in the image of Him after all!

Before meeting my dad, I struggled with anger and bitterness. I felt like I deserved answers to the questions I’d had about my dad’s disappearance and I wanted justice for the hurt that was in my heart. It didn’t take me long to realize that answers would not ultimately heal me; the only thing that could heal my brokenness was letting go of my anger and forgiving my father.

When the moment presented itself to ask my dad what I wanted, I just looked at him and said, “You know what dad? It doesn’t matter…any of it. It’s in the past and when I consider the chance to rehash the past versus just living in this moment and rebuilding our relationship, I’d much rather us move forward and let the past stay in the past.

In fact, it’s this very idea that I have this site (Becoming Bianca) on: don’t let your past steal your present. I believe we are called to live one day at a time; I don’t believe in living in the past and I don’t believe in regrets. We are who we are because of the choices we’ve made, good or bad.  It was the same with my dad – the past was over; I didn’t need answers, I just needed reconciliation with my dad. When he asked me for forgiveness, and it was then that I finally realized God’s LOVE. After a lifetime of holding on to bitterness and anger, I accepted his apology for never being there and I truly forgave him.

It was the most freeing thing I have ever done in my life.

It has been said that, “To forgive is the highest, most beautiful form of love [because] in return, you will receive untold peace and happiness.” And I can attest that it is completely true. That day I experienced the love of God in such a powerful way, it left a mark on me that will never fade. The strength God gave me to forgive my father was rooted in love so strong, it can overcome death itself. God gave me a glimpse of the greatest love I’ve ever known, the love of Christ.

I don’t think I had ever realized how heavy the chains of bitterness, resentment and anger could be. The Word says in Colossians 3:12-14, “Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.

A quick meet up with my dad at London Heathrow airport in 2009.

I found that forgiving as the Lord forgives means forgiving without any expectations for change, it means unconditional love. I prayed the Lord would go before me and prepare the way for me, and he did that, he also changed my heart to love my dad deeply and to forgive him for everything. Aside from Christ’s love for me, I have never known forgiveness like that. It was a miracle.

The bible also says in 1 Peter 4 that we are to, “Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins. Offer hospitality to one another without grumbling.

I saw firsthand that love does cover a multitude of wrongs, and that it is better to love deeply and serve one another than it is to hold grudges and treat each other harshly. I had the chance to show the love of Christ to my dad, and Christ was my motivation the entire time I was with my dad; to be the best example of Christ that I could be. I never thought I would live the love that Christ shows me… I know I am no where close to attaining perfection this side of heaven, but I do believe God gave me the strength to move forward and to love deeply because he knew it would bring Him the ultimate glory.

I came to terms with the possibility that my weekend with my dad might have been the only one God planned for my life. It was hard at first, but I had peace to trust God for what He had planned. My heart was freed from anger or bitterness, and my father had peace because I forgave him. Graciously God chose to bless me with the gift of a restored relationship with my dad; God freely gave me that. It simply required my obedience and willing heart, and God did the rest.

Today I have a great relationship with my dad, the man who only a few years ago was a stranger in my life is now one of my closest confidants and friends. I’m blessed to say that in October 2010, my father walked me down the aisle in my wedding. That was a sweet moment and it was one I never thought I would have the pleasure of experiencing, but it just goes to show that what is impossible with man is possible with God.

My dad, about to walk me down the aisle on my wedding day in October 2010.

May His love abound in your life as you witness how great, how deep, how wide His love is for YOU.

October 3rd, 2011

the {third} greatest love story of my life

I found Tonya’s on Twitter several months ago and instantly fell in love with her DIY projects! I mean, who wouldn’t love this amazing laundry room?  Then, to my joy, I discovered she was a sister in Christ as well; Love of Family & Home is an amazing compilation of family, faith and decorating.  A few months ago Tonya told her followers about her  project to do a series on 31 Days of Realizing [God's] Love for You during the month of October.  As part of the series, she asked us to share about a time in our life when we experienced God’s love first hand, and I volunteered to guest post.  When I consider all the ways God has shown his love in my life, it could be impossible to choose only one!

However, it didn’t take long before I knew exactly what he wanted me to share.  I call this story  The Third Greatest Love Story of My Life, and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

The Third Greatest Love Story of My Life

God Bless!

March 8th, 2011

{remix} lessons learned: signing agreements

I originally posted about signing an agreement back in 2007, but I didn’t give much info on why this was a “lesson learned.”

Allow me to explain…

I had just secured my first full time job in “the real world” and I was so excited. I went to work for a company that was in the healthcare field and so, understandably, there was a lot of paperwork involved in my new-hire package.  Lots of these papers were standard forms any new employee would sign. I signed my name to all of them without ever even reading the forms.

Because who really reads those long, legal-jargon forms?

Apparently lawyers do.

There was one fore in particilar that was about 10 pages long. The HR lady said, “Oh it just basically says blah blah” and gave me a 2-sentence summary of what the 10 pages supposedly said.  Again, I naively signed my name to the bottom of the agreement, never taking a second glance at what it really said. Ironically, or perhaps sneakily on their part, I never did receive a copy of that form I signed…

Fast forward to about 2 years later.

I was miserable at the job. I had to share an office space with Debbie Downer (you know who I mean – the eternally pessimistic lady who is also coincidentally a hypochondriac) and I was bored to tears. I began searching for employment elsewhere, desperately seeking any new opportunity I could find.

About 7 months into my search, through a friend of a friend, I finally landed an interview with a company also in the healthcare field. In my search I had a co-worker notify me that I might wanna look at that 10 page agreement I signed because she was pretty sure it included a no-compete agreement.

What’s a no-compete agreement? I asked.

I quickly learned what it was.

The hard way.

One day I snuck into HR, grabbed my file, found the 10-page agreement, made copies of it, returned my file and then sat at my desk and read (as best I could) the whole thing. Turns out the agreement stated something along the lines of you will not work for another company in this field for a period of no less than 2 years from leaving this company. After 2 years you cannot work for a company in this field in the following regions: (goes on to list every major and non-major) city in the Lone Star State.


Crap.

I was just given an offer from this other company and I was more than ready to take it.

I had no idea what to do. So I read it again. And again, looking for anything I could find. I even sent a copy of it to a friend of mine who is a lawyer.  In the end, I justified that there was one section of wording that would allow me to get around it. It was a long shot, but I told myself it would work.  I accepted the job with the new company, put my 2 weeks notice in and left the company.

2 months later, while at my new job, a Certified Letter arrives at the office for me. I didn’t recognize the return address, but I did note that it was from a law office.  I opened it to find, yet another long legal-jargoned document. From what I could tell it was from my previous employer and it included threats to sue me for all I had.

Side note: At the time what I had was about $30 grand in debt. Go for it lady, take my debt!

I was instantly side swiped and extremely embarrassed that this showed up at my new place of employment. Fearing I’d have to quit, I told my new boss about it. He took a look at it and told me not to worry about it. And so I let it go. And I never heard another peep about it from them again.

I did however gain a reputation at my previous place of employment. They all thought I was a traitor who was selling company secrets to the new company I was with. I knew with every fiber of my being that none of it was true, but it still stung coming from people who were supposedly “my friends.” Thankfully I had 2 real friends there, who knew better than to believe the lies the executives were propogating.

I know this sounds pathetic, but it took me about 3 years to get over it and finally forgive them for the pettyness and harassment they inflicted on me.  3 years is a long time to carry bitterness & resentment, but better later than never I thought.

I also learned through this experience that finding out who your real friends are can be a painful process.

Regardless of the pain, it was wonderful to be in the care of those people who really did have my back, and who knew how to separate the truth from the lies.

So in all this my lesson learned was: Don’t EVER sign your name to something you haven’t actually read. It can save you a LOT of heartache in the end.


And don’t worry if people are annoyed that you’re actually reading the document – take your time, make sure you know what you’re reading and then, only if you agree to it all, sign it. If you don’t understand some wording, ask for clarification. I’ve come acrossed some people who are annoyed that it takes me so long to read the agreement, but I always smile and say, “Sorry, it’s just that this one time I signed something I didn’t read and it came back to bite me. If you’d rather I step aside while reading it so you can get the next person, I’d be glad to.”

I’d rather take an extra 10 minutes of my time to read the fine print, than spend another 3 years bitter at my own mistakes…

January 27th, 2011

a murder in my oven

Being the curious kitchen pioneer that I am, it’s not surprising that almost weekly I discover something new relating to the kitchen. A recipe, a design, a gadget…kitchens are full of surprises!

This week after using my oven to bake something I noticed the “Clean” button. Since a few weeks back some sweet potato juice dripped on the bottom of the oven and I had no desire to clean it, I thought, “should this self-clean really work, I’ll be in heaven!

I pressed it and heard the familiar beeps and creaks the oven makes when it’s on. I remembered there was a latch on the outside of the door that I always thought was a door lock (which by the way isn’t that a good idea? I mean especially if you have kiddos!) but it’s NOT a door lock, it’s the “Self-Clean Lock.” Anyway, I FINALLY got to switch that into place and voila! I sat back down at my desk and awaited the magic of “self clean.”

About 5 to 10 mintes later I started smelling burning.

Not a good thing when you’re living on the 3rd floor.

Also not good when you’re pretty sure renters insurance doesn’t cover arson comitted by yourself.

I look at the oven but it looks innocent enough. No flames. No smoke.

I opened the back door to let the place air out. About an hour later it’s just too hot in the kitchen and I press cancel on the stove top. I try to undo the lock/latch and it won’t open! I later realize this is probably because it’s so hot in there the steam would melt my face off. Thank goodness technology finally saved me from my naivety…it’s doesn’t always happen that way!

Hours later I try again and the stove opens.

It’s then that I see it.

My kitchen thermometer that I so proudly got after we were married. A friend told me once that this was one of the best tools to have when moving around a lot, as many ovens heat to different temps and she learned the hard way about food not cooking properly.

I used a pot holder to detach the thermometer from the rack. It was dull and full of soot and I took it to the sink. I turned on the faucet and started to wash it off…

SNAP!

A tiny crack appeared on the surface.

Then it grew.

The the water started filling up inside it. Too late.

It was dead.

As the dial lifelessly fell from past 500 degrees to below 0 I knew my short time with this gadget was over. Even though some of the shine had returned to the outer edge, it was clear my thermometer was dead.  I snapped a picture for nostalgia and placed it next to the sink. I know I’ll replace it soon enough, but something about not having it has dampened my confidence in baking.

And above that, my oven doesn’t even look clean. Maybe I’ll try to self clean again on another day. Maybe a day when it’s cold out so the heat doesn’t bother me.

In the meantime, I’m really hoping for technology to figure out how to manufacture a self-cleaning bathtub…