Hola a todos…se puede decir que soy un animal nocturno. I am definitely not a morning person – some may think that this is a strange confession coming from a teacher; but believe it or not – many of us are NOT early-birds.  Estaba viendo/escuchando un mensaje del Pastor Andy Stanley y me inspiro a escribir. Así que, aquí les va. Before I start, I have to say – I love Pastor Andy Stanley because I feel God uses Andy to speak to me, when I think no one else can.

It was early June 1991 and we lived an hour away from Panamá City.   “Mamita,” my mother whispered to me that sunny Saturday morning, “I am going to a wedding in Panamá tonight. Your father is taking me to the bus station at 11:00 a.m. ¿Quieres ir conmigo, o te quedas aquí?“

I was tired of lying in bed, fed-up with staring out the window and looking at the four walls that testified to the pain I repressed at night while my family slept…”Sí Má, voy contigo.”

I got dressed and  rode with my mom from Colón to Panamá City – for nearly forty-five minutes I felt fine. Pero después de casi una hora – los puños en contra de mi cuello y mi cabeza comenzaron de nuevo.  After almost an hour of peace, I felt the jolts stabbing the back of my brain. Tears raced down my nose and onto my mother’s lap. I tried not to scream, so as to not draw attention to myself and frighten the rest of the passengers on the bus.

Once we got to my grandma’s house in the city –which was actually my aunt Berta’s house –I sat at the table and tried to digest some fish soup…I say “digest” because the opposite is  what actually happened. I was left at the table by myself; my mother had already stepped into my aunt Leti’s bedroom to get ready for the wedding.

“Má, can you come help me with this button,” my mom hollered. “Allí voy,” my grandma hollered back.

Right when my grandma stepped into the bedroom, I felt a gushing feeling within my stomach. I was nauseated and suddenly too dizzy to walk straight. As I made it into the bathroom, the front gate slammed and my tías, Berta and Lina, walked into the house. I could hear their voices, yet I couldn’t gather enough strength to even whisper, “Hola.”

I swayed back and forth and in my vain attempt to vomit into the toilet, my soup poured itself up my esophagus, out of my mouth, and into the white ceramic sink. The potato was as whole as the moment I first put it into my mouth.  Just then, my body began convulsing…