MEEOOOOWWW!!!

Meoooowwwwwwww!

Did you hear that?

That’s the cat being let out of the bag.

It is officially time to make public that which has been kept hush-hush.

Come the end of July, I am moving back to Pensacola! That’s right. Your homegirl is going to be a U Dub Argonaut once again.

If this comes as a total shock to you, then chances are, you must not know me too well. The moment I pulled out of the University of West Florida parking lot last May, I was counting down the days until I could figure out how to pull back in. I visited Pensacola five times since leaving, still wore all of my campus activity t-shirts, and drank exclusively out of UWF coffee mugs.

One year later, I’ve decided to take a leap of faith and move back. After my little Eat, Pray, Love trip in December, I knew that I had to do whatever it took to get to the place that made my heart happy. I never would have thought that place would be the Pandhandle, but hey, that’s the beauty of the roundabout way right?

The last 5 months have been crazy but they have resulted in finding a snazzy 2/2 apartment, an even snazzier roomie, a part-time job, a lot of furniture on Craigslist and Goodwill, winter clothes for my little Munchkin, and the rekindling of so many awesome friendships that I was fortunate enough to be a part of almost two years ago. How everything has fallen into place is almost unreal.

I have learned so much in the last year and am forever grateful for everyone I met along the way that has gone on the journey with me. Last but not least, I am most grateful for my wonderful family that somehow still supports me in anything I do, despite their innate Cuban nature not to. In every decision that I have ever made, they have always been behind me rooting with a foam finger that says, “Goooo Ileana!”

Life is a grand adventure. Pensacola is once again where I will get to be living it out.

Here we go. Take 2.

If My Cape Could Talk

If you’ve been following me at all through social media this past week, you would know that I participated in my very first Warrior Dash this past weekend in Lake Wales, FL.

Some of you may be asking yourself, “What’s the Warrior Dash?” According to the website:

Warrior Dash is the ultimate event for thrill-seeking athletes. This 5k race is held on the most demanding and unique terrain from around the world. Participants will take on intense obstacles, and celebrate their feat with music, beer, and muddy shorts! It is guaranteed to be the craziest frickin’ day of your life!

I can vouch for the above. January 20th, 2012 was one of the craziest frickin days of my life. I scaled walls, jumped over fire, swam through pits of mud, crawled under barbed wire, jumped on junkyard cars, and more (Click on pics to see them full size).

I did all of this wearing two very distinct accesories. The first?

My safety goggles:

Why did I wear safety goggles?

For safety.

Duh.

I’m about as blind as a bat without my glasses, and there was no way I could race without them, so by wearing safety goggles on top of my glasses, I was able to run the 5K, and participate in all of the obstacles without a problem. That’s not the accessory this post is about though. This post is about my second distinct accessory.

My Cape.

As you can see in the picture above, I am rocking a cape. It’s a Wonder Woman cape to be exact.

I did not buy this cape. I won it almost two years ago at Six Flags in New Jersey. I did not win this cape by playing some arcade or carnival game.

Let’s rewind to June 2010.

I won it by playing one of those guessing games. The worker at the booth swore he would be able to guess within 5 lbs. of my weight correctly. If he was wrong, I would win a prize. For a dollar, how could I resist?  He took a good hard look at me and guessed, 250 lbs. I laughed because I knew he was way off. There was just no way I weighed that much! He asked me to get on the scale, and I gladly obliged. What I saw in that moment, took my breath away.

He was wrong.

But, so was I.

263 lbs.

That was the number on the scale.

Here’s another number for you…

17.

That was my age.

There I was at 17, on my senior trip, weighing in at a life-threatening 263 lbs.

He congratulated me because he had guessed incorrectly and handed me the Wonder Woman cape. It had been months since I had stepped on a scale, and I was quickly reminded why. I think I knew how far I had let myself go, but without seeing the numbers, it was easier to convince myself otherwise. The rest of the day, people complimented me on the cape, but I was embarrassed because of the manner in which I had won it.

Now, let’s fast forward to January 2012.

Almost two years have passed, and I have some a new number for you.

86.

That’s the amount of weight I’ve lost since the summer of 2010.

For the weeks that I trained leading up to the Warrior Dash, I had my cape hanging on the outside of my closet. Every time I wanted to quit or didn’t want to wake up at 4am to go to the gym, I was reminded why I had won that cape.

On January 20th, 2012, I proudly suited up, slapped on the cape, and participated in my first (and certainly not last) Warrior Dash. Every time I wanted to quit or go around an obstacle, I would look at my cape and push through.

I didn’t have the fastest time by any means necessary, but I finished. That’s what I was most proud of.

Two years ago, I couldn’t walk up the stairs without getting winded. Now, I can run a 5K with 12 obstacles that could kill an average/clumsy human being.

Two years ago, I couldn’t fit comfortably into the backseat of a car. Now, I can jump on top of cars.

Two years ago, people complimented my cape. At the Warrior Dash, they did the same.

Originally, I won it because I weighed more than anyone thought.

I decided that wasn’t the memory I was going to associate with it anymore or the legacy I was going to leave behind with it.

It’s the same cape, but I decided it was going to tell a different story.

If my cape could talk, I wanted to make sure it said something worth listening to…

Why I’m Grateful for Unibrows

Growing up, I was never the popular kid.

I know it’s tough to believe with the unbelievable wit, striking good looks, and humility that I now posses, but it’s true.

As a child, I was at first glance more quiet than a French Mime, wore a Scooby Doo watch until I was 12, had buck teeth that would make Bugs Bunny jealous, and  there was some funky thing going on around my forehead that I lovingly refer to as the Leaning Tower of Unibrow. I was an absolute vision.

Thank the Lord that I outgrew all of the above. Nowadays, it’s difficult to get me to shut up, I currently own several non-cartoon watches, I had braces for two years, and in middle school was introduced to the beauty of wax.

As weird as it may sound, I’m grateful for my awkward phase. Which as a side note, I’m not even sure you can call it a phase if it lasted for close to eleven years…

However, that’s besides the point.

It caused me to become quite the little observer. I learned to scan the room for those who were holding back tears because they had just been called a hurtful name. Or those who always had Peanut Butter & Jelly sandwiches for lunch because their parents couldn’t afford to send them to school with anything else. Or those who always got picked last for kickball because they couldn’t even make it two steps towards first base without being tagged out. Or those who were janitors at the school because they had just left their country in hopes of scrounging up some money to send back home to their spouse who was taking care of their fatally ill child. For some reason, these were the people that at a young age, captured my interest. They captured my heart. Nobody really knew their names much less their stories. I wanted to know their names. I wanted to know their stories.

As a result, I grew up with an unbelievably diverse group of friends. To the outside world, they looked like the rejects, the misfits, the transfer students, the husky kids, the twigs, the wallflowers, the theater nerds, the braniacs, and the not-so braniacs. To me, they were my friends. They were my people. They were my tribe.

You see, if I hadn’t been an awkward kid with a mushroom haircut that shielded me from any chance of sun poisoning, I highly doubt that I would’ve turned out the way I did. I would have never turned into an observer. I would have never been drawn towards those that often were overlooked. The ones with stories to share but nobody to tell it to. The ones with tears to cry but no shoulder to  wipe their nose on. The ones with shattered hearts hungry for a home.

Growing up, I saw all my external flaws as a hindrance. I wasted all my time moping about my outside appearance instead of realizing the incredible work that God was doing inside me. He was making my heart tender for those that He is the most near to. Those that society has no place for.

Maybe that’s why I see beauty in the world where most don’t. Maybe that’s why I see magic where most see normality.

You may say it’s a stretch to correlate my unfortunate facial hair genetics as to why I have a heart for the broken, but I don’t think it’s that far of a stretch at all. I think we often fail to see the role that small things play in our lives until we look back and realize that they segwayed us into the the big things.

Senior Citizens & Concession Stand Proposals

Call me an old lady if you must, but I happen to be a fan of Matinee movie showings.

It’s cheaper, almost always relaxing, and the crowd is significantly less rowdy. Now sure, it may be less rowdy because most people in the audience have grandchildren my age, but that’s irrelevant.

While on my road trip in Pensacola, I decided that I desperately needed a break from all the madness that had engulfed my week. What better way to relax than to watch New Year’s Eve on New Year’s Eve? Some might call it cheesy. I prefer to call it poetic timing.

Once I arrived to the theater, I proudly marched up to the counter, forked over six dollars, and purchased a ticket for the 1:15pm showing of the movie. As usual, I arrived about thirty minutes prior to the previews so I had my pick of the seats. I cozily nestled into the best seat in the house. You know EXACTLY which one I’m talking about! Third to last row from the top, smack dab in the middle. I had the entire place to myself for about a minute, until a group of around twenty senior citizens walked into the theater. They all had matching t-shirts so right away I knew that I was in the middle of a senior citizen daycare field trip. They apparently also know where the best seats in the house are because they went right to where I was, and surrounded me. I was trapped in a sea of senior citizens who had a slight mothball-ish scent. Just when I thought the situation couldn’t get any more humorous, the caretaker started passing out their snack for the movie. Bottles of Ensure. You know, the meal supplement. After one of them offered me an extra because they had packed their own, I decided it was time for me to sneak away to the concession stand to grab a box of Sno-Caps or something.

The man who stood in front of me in line couldn’t have been a day over 25. He had a failed attempt of a Fauxhawk, a pair of thin rimmed glasses on, and was rocking an Argyle sweater. What caught my attention, was his unbelievably nervous energy. It made me so uncomfortable, that I had no choice but to ask him if everything was alright. That’s when he opened up to me and let me know that he was about to propose to his girlfriend of 3 years after the showing of New Year’s Eve. While in line, he told me all about their relationship, her love for romantic comedies, and why he had chosen to do it that day at the movie theater. I congratulated him, and told him I couldn’t wait to see their proposal since I was in their showing room. He then yelled, handed me a $500 video camera and asked me if I could record the proposal for him. How could I say no?

I stuffed the video camera in my purse, snuck back into my seat, and was so excited for what was about to come that I hadn’t even noticed that I had forgotten to get my Sno-Caps. As the movie credits started to roll and everyone started clearing out, I ducked to the floor to not look suspicious and started to use one of the rickety seats in front of me as a bootleg tripod. With nobody else in the theater except for the couple and myself, he got up and started to propose. It was beautiful. I cried. Absolutely snotted all over myself. He got down one one knee, took out the ring, and she of course said yes in a pitch so high that the local dogs started to whimper. I waited about a minute or so before awkwardly popping out from behind the seats, walking down, and hugging them in a congratulatory manor. She of course was confused and asked her soon to be husband in the nicest way she knew possible, who the heck I was. Once we got that all cleared up she thanked me for capturing their special moment.

It was an absolute honor to get to be a part of one of the most special days in any couple’s life. The best part was that I didn’t do anything that out of the ordinary! Surely other people noticed that this guy was extremely nervous, but didn’t take it upon themselves to ask if he was alright. I did, and as a result I got to be part of two complete stranger’s marriage proposal.

People swear there’s no magic left in the world. I say there’s tons of magic! You just have to take the time to stop in the middle of your hectic life to look around.

Eat. Pray. Love.

I like to overthink things. A lot.

If you asked me if I thought I was a free spirit, I’d probably try to flatter myself and tell you that I am. However, those who know me the best, will be quick to tell you that if it’s not a calculated risk, chances are I’m not taking it.

What then would possess me to drive up 13 hours to a place where I had no set plans or a place to stay on Christmas night after a 40+ hour work week and 12 Christmas services? Adventure? Excitement? Change of scenery? Sweet Tea? Truth be told, I think I was hoping to find a bit of myself. I knew this was going to be an “eat, pray, love” trip of sorts.

So off I went. Driving through Christmas night, listening to Tina Fey’s “Bossypants” to keep me awake, and stopping at sketchy rest areas that I am almost quite certain I had seen before on clips of Law & Order: SVU.

After 13 hours, I finally arrived in good ‘ol Pensacola. Much like Jesus, there was no room for me at the Inn because everyone had family in town for the holidays. It was 4am, and I was about to check into a hotel for the week before a friend of mine offered me her couch for the next couple of nights. What my friend neglected to tell me, was that her mom was a music teacher and she had her music teacher friends over for a Christmas party. As a result, they thought they were a barbershop quartet of sorts, and felt compelled to nail down the harmonies of Frosty the Godforsaken Snowman until the wee hours of the morning.

The next few days included catching up with friends, drinking Sweet Tea, eating seafood, getting hit in the head with a hockey puck, a mild concussion, a marriage proposal, getting caught in the middle of a senior citizen daycare field trip, almost getting my car keyed in Tallahassee, a drug intervention a ‘la Dr. Drew, my name ending up on a police report because I helped track down the address of a man who had been blackmailing my friend, a free concert by Andy Grammer, and ringing in the New Year with 50,000 people in the heart of a city that has become my second home.

At the end of it all, there was no other way that I would’ve rather spent my holiday. Yes, my parents were spending the week at the Gaylord Palms in Orlando while I was couch-surfing the finest apartments in Pensacola, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Although my trip at most times paralleled a mixture of A Series of Unfortunate Events and a National Lampoon Christmas, this trip was exactly what I needed. I needed to be reminded of the beauty of life’s twists and turns.

The week was full of adventure, unbelievable stories, changed lives, moments in which I’m certain the Lord (or Ashton Kutcher) was punking me, and an unprecedented amount of  legitimate belly laughs. There’s an old Cuban wives-tale that says that however you end your year, indicates what you will spend the rest of your upcoming year doing. If that’s true, I think I’d be quite alright with that.

While road trips may not be good for your back, I wholeheartedly believe that they are necessary for your soul.

One Word: Embrace

This last year has been a year to remember.

A year full of ups. A year full of downs. A year full of growth. A year full of love lost. A year full of love gained. A year full of tears. A year full of belly laughs. A year full of uncertainty. A year full of changed plans. It has been a year full of lessons.

As I sat down the last few days to really think about the one word that I want to hold dear as these next 12 months unfold in front of me, I kept coming back to embrace.

I’ve decided to embrace whatever this year holds for me.

I’ve decided to embrace the One who has never failed to embrace me.

I’ve decided to embrace my place and really live in the truth that where I am is exactly where I’m supposed to be.

I’ve decided to embrace my imperfections because they don’t take away from my quality of life, they actually add to it.

I’ve decided to embrace my dream which in no way shape or form I can achieve on my own.

I’ve decided to embrace others and love them right where they are from where I am.

I’ve decided to embrace those that the Lord refers to as the least of these because those are the ones nearest to His heart.

I’ve decided to embrace the beautiful twists and turns that life is so chock-full of.

I’ve decided to embrace risks rather than run away from them for fear of failing.

I’ve decided to embrace the journey because that’s where all of the adventure, growth, and moments to remember lie.

2012, I’m ready for you. I’m tired of side-hugging everything that life throws at me. I’m ready to full on bear-hug embrace everything this year has in store.

Let’s go.

#ChooseJoy – A Tribute Post to @GitzenGirl

Words fail me.

Nothing I type seems sufficient.

What I can say, is thank you.

Thank you Sara, for teaching me what true love, faith, hope, and JOY is.

Thank you for encouraging me, more than you’ll ever know through your blog.

Thank you for reminding me the beauty and friendship that lays within furry friends like your Riley.

Thank you for teaching me that no matter what your circumstances are, that you can have life, and life abundantly just as Jesus promised us.

Last but not least, thank you for proving that you can fully love and care for somebody, from thousands of miles away through the tools of technology. Most of the people who are tweeting, face-booking, and blogging about you, have never met you in person, but we all care and love you just the same. Online community is real. Why? Because we can’t put God in a box. We can’t put love in a box. I have no doubt, that as you are running into the Lord’s arms today, He is pumped and is telling the former greats of our faith like Moses, Esther, and Paul, “That’s my girl! She’s coming home today. She has done well, she was my good and faithful servant.”

Thank you Sara. Thank you. Because of you, I am daily reminded to choose joy.

Sweet Potato Mash Recipe

One of my favorite and healthy side dishes to make, is Sweet Potato Mash. It’s delicious, it’s unique, and best of all, it’s good for you!

Ingredients:

• 6 sweet potatoes, peeled and cubed
• 3/4 cup milk
• 3/4 hot water
• 1/2 cup butter
• 3/4 cup fat-free maple syrup
• 2 spoonfuls of brown sugar

Steps:

1. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Add potatoes and cook until tender, 20 to 30 minutes.
2. With an electric mixer on low, blend potatoes, slowly adding milk & hot water, about 1/2 a cup at a time. Use more or less to achieve desired texture. Add butter and fat-free maple syrup, to taste. Blend until smooth. Serve warm and top with a little bit of brown sugar.

Nutritional Info Per Serving:

• Calories 140
•  Total Fat 0.4g (sat 0.1g)
• Cholesterol 0mg
•  Carbohydrate 41.3mg,
• Fiber 4.7g
• Protein 2.7g

My Birthday Wish

June 30th, I turn 19.

All I have for my birthday is one wish.

Adoption has always been close to my heart because the Lord is near to the broken-hearted and He has a place in His heart for the orphans and widows.

This June 30th, and on the days leading up to it, I am asking you to donate to the adoption fund of my dear friends, Elora (@eloranicole) and Russ Ramirez (@therockingchef). They need $2000 to cover half of the adoption fee. Russ and Elora are amazing people and I will always have a spot in my heart for them because of what we’ve been able to experience together through our involvement in Invisible Children.

Meet Elora.

 

Meet Russ.

If you know me in the physical world, don’t get me a gift card, cup of coffee, or iPad accessory for my birthday. Use that money you would’ve used and put it towards their adoption fund.

If you know me in the online/social media world, take that tweet or Facebook comment a step further and please donate it to their adoption fund.

It would mean the world to me and I know it would to Russ and Elora’s as well, if you could donate. Whether it’s enough to cover a cup of coffee or enough to cover a car payment, anything you donate will make an impact!

If you wanna know more about Russ and Elora’s story and to donate please go to: http://www.bit.ly/countrycubanbdaywish . Share the link, give, and inspire other’s to do the same!

Bin Laden’s Death

“But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.”

- Romans 6:8

While we were still sinners. While we were still wicked, Christ died for us. There’s no exception. God loved and sent His son to die for everyone, and that includes Osama Bin Laden.

Today, will be a day for the history books. No doubt. President Obama announced that the US had killed Osama, and that they had his body. Less than a minute later, all of Twitter & FB blew up with everyone posting statuses celebrating his birth. Right away, I had a problem with this. It took a minute to try to figure out why my Spirit was unsettled and uneasy. The reason? It’s unbiblical to rejoice in the death of a person, no matter how wicked they are.

“Do you think I take any pleasure in the death of wicked men and women? Isn’t it my pleasure that they turn around, no longer living wrong but living right—really living?”

- Ezekiel 18:23

In Ezekiel, God outlines right there that He doesn’t take personal pleasure in the death of a wicked person. He rather have a wicked person come to Christ, than have them die and spend eternity apart from Him. When Osama was killed, he was not a Christian. As a result, He will be spending eternity apart from God. I have no doubt that  absolutely breaks God’s heart.

As humans, this is tough to comprehend because we like to weigh sins. If God’s Word true like we say it is, then Osama was no more wicked than I am in God’s eyes. He was no more wicked than Mother Teresa in God’s eyes, because we ALL fall short and we’ve all screwed up. He was as broken, hurting, and lost as the next person. True, radical, unconditional love and faith embraces and lives that out.

Was justice done with Osama’s death? Yes. All the wrong he did, still stands, and a price had to be paid. However, I have seen way too many tweets and FB statuses where you would think that Osama’s death is the ultimate portrait of God’s justice. Negative. The ultimate portrait of God’s justice is the cross. Plain and simple.

I personally find it extremely embarrassing at how many Christians have posted statuses of celebration. A lot of people who are not Christians have been even more turned off to Christianity, because of the way that Christians reacted to Osama’s death. We always preach that we are about love, mercy, and grace, but tonight, very few lived it out. Take that with a grain of salt.

At the end of the day, it is never right, nor Biblical to celebrate a death. Only one death in the Bible was to be celebrated, and that was the death of Christ. It is because His death gave life to us all (including Osama), and He did not stay dead, but He rose after three days.