“Baby, I’m just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake I shake it off, I shake it off.” Yes, I just quoted Taylor Swift’s “Shake it Off” lyrics! It’s New Year’s Day and I just spent my early afternoon watching her “Reputation” tour with my eldest daughter Bianca, a somewhat reluctant fan. Despite her issues with T-Swift, she still cannot help but like her! I could understand why. (My apologies to all you “Swifties.”) This morning, as we watched the concert and Taylor sang “Shake it off,” I was reminded of a time last year when feuds stirred up at my work place. During that season a coworker sent me an email. “Rosa, like Taylor Swift, you need to shake it off!” The email made me laugh, but in all seriousness, at that moment it was the exact sentiment I needed. “Shake it off!” You see, I had major work business to attend to, and I couldn’t allow simple disagreements or misunderstandings to keep me from getting my job done. I am a thick-skinned, let-it-roll-off-me, resilient …

To say this was a year of extreme loss, sadness, and emptiness is an understatement. After 13 years of prolonged mourning, my beautiful mother finally was able to meet her creator. Though for years she was in a vegetative state, after she passed it hit me, that I can no longer touch or see her. I wonder often, how wonderfully different life would be, if she was here with me. Unexpectedly, my sweet dog of 10 years had to be put down in June due to a rare disease. I took her for granted. After she left, I realized how much joy she brought into my life. Now, every morning, I walk into my living room, look at the couch, and wish she was there. I miss our mornings together, I would give her morning breakfast as I made my coffee. The 7 years of my long commutes to the north side of Chicago with my two older daughters – my best friends – came to end. In the fall, I found myself getting them …

Today. April 17th, 2018. Exactly one week since I received the phone call from my dad. “Mimi, she passed away!”  For the last 10 years of her life, my mom was in a vegetative/comatose state. At one time, even the thought of hearing the words my dad spoke that morning would haunt me. They hung over my head like a massive black cloud that, especially at the beginning of her illness, would drench me with unbelievable SADNESS. During those dark times, when the deep sadness would come over me, I often felt like I couldn’t breathe. After so many years of seeing someone you love more than words can express, experience such suffering, you start to pray the prayer you never thought you would. Lord, deliver her from this suffering; please take her home with you.  But, my mom hung on. Back in February, we thought we were going to lose her. I sat in the hospital praying that the Lord would take her so that finally she could be at peace. But, my mom …

Everyone deals with grief differently. I write. So, here’s to you, my sweet cousin, Marisa. Growing up, besides having my crazy attitude sister- Gorda, I had my cousins- Melinda, Nicole, and Marisa. We hung out a lot together, especially in our teens. Like many Chicago teens in the 90s, we spent our leisure time, going to the mall, dancing at teen clubs, and swimming in pools. Just a few of our fun times… Going to Ford City mall, taking pictures in photo booths. I still have some of those pictures.  And, I still remember the time you met your future husband, Armando. Going to Prime -N- Tender and St. Rita’s dances. I think you went a couple of times with us, but I don’t recall you really being a dancer. It just wasn’t your thing. On the other hand, Melinda, Nicole, and I thought we were the stuff on the dance floor. ***Side note, Melinda remember our times at Alcatraz. Fun times! I still remember the bomb you dropped on me in the bathroom at …

I’m from clear plastic couch covers that stick to your skin on hot summer days from sofrito and Sazon as necessities in meals. I am from wicker fan chairs and clown figuras on the glass coffee table and Abuela’s cinnamon apple tea con leche filled the cold winter night while novelas played on the TV.

A clogged bathtub is the worst, especially for a family of six living in a one bathroom house. To make matters worse it happened in the evening hours. As usual, my Latina-ness kicked in, and I started trying some home remedies, that my mama so graciously modeled for me when I was a child. On side note, once my kitchen sink was clogged. After so many attempts to fix it, I got really frustrated, and I grabbed the leaf blower. Bare with me for a second. I thought I could force the gunk in the drain through with the power of the air. In a previous clogged situation, I had witnessed a plumber use a device to blow air though the drain to fix the clog. Needless to say, the water in the drain splashed all over me. Lesson learned! Back to my bathtub. This time around, I poured bleach down the drain. I poured boiling hot water down it. I poured laundry detergent down it. Okay, I got desperate. I even caved in, and …

Naomi Anais Sanchez, age 16 There’s always been something about the ocean that intrigues me. Maybe it’s the way the waves move: free and unpredictable. Or maybe it’s the feeling I get when I inhale the smell and let it flow through my nose and down to my toes. Or perhaps it’s the feeling I get when my feet move from the familiar territories of sand into a ceaseless sea of the unknown. Maybe it’s all of things and more. Regardless, the ocean has always been a motif in my life. It all started the day I was born, February 18th, the last day of the Aquarius, the water carrier. If you follow or know a small amount about astrology, you might know that the Aquarius symbol is two waves. I am not the biggest follower of astrology, but I sort of see my being an Aquarius is the beginning of my connection the ocean. It continued on to when I was in kindergarten and realized that I’m half Puerto Rican, and that Puerto Rico …

It’s a winter night in Chicago. The first snowfall this season has visited. The first snowfall is always a beautiful sight, especially when it happens at night, when you are all snuggled up in your home with no where to go the next day. A white Christmas is always an added plus to this magical, yet sacred day. But, now the holidays have come and gone, and I am wishing it would have taken the winter season with it. One would think that this Chicago native would be used to it’s bitter cold and windy winters. But, I’m not, and I don’t think I ever will. You see, my indigenous roots long for its isla– Puerto Rico, especially during nights like tonight. To say I miss the brightness and warmth of the sun is an understatement. It’s a struggle for me to experience this season, without feeling somber, melancholy, and a bit bitter. My attempt to make the best of this season is to snuggle under my quilted throw blanket, sip a cup of cinnamon …

Guest Writer: Naomi Sanchez, Age 16/An Opinion Piece Authors Note: Have you ever had thousands of words just flying in your head, but you just can’t place them together in a coherent stream of thought? If you know the feeling, then you can relate with how I am feeling writing this. Writing this is on my list of the top 10 hardest things I’ve ever done; I’ve spent hours meditating and pondering how to start this, I’ve spent hours crying over this, I’ve spent hours writing rough drafts, I’ve spent hours discussing and asking advice for this, I’ve devoted a part of myself to this, and I hope that’s enough to get some respect. Preface: This week at school, my crazy APUSH (AP US History) teacher, had my classmates and I do an activity called, Speed Dating. Don’t worry, it’s not actual speed dating, it was an activity were he had each us portray and research a famous reformer during the First Industrial Revolution, and then we had to get to know all of the …

This is clearly the selfie era. Don’t worry, all you, self- proclaimed selfie queens, the purpose of this blog is to not come against you. Shoot! This last year, I’ve dabbled in the world of selfies, and I am unquestionably not good at it. I have come to the conclusion, certainly after many fails, that it -undeniably- takes some skills to take a picture that is worthy of posting on Facebook and/or Instagram. I applaud selfie experts and their ability to get that “just right” angle, and selecting a fitting filter that captures that flawless face look. It just doesn’t work for me. Perhaps, it has to do with my distinct Puerto Rican features- my bitty eyes, my narrow, long nose, or my pointed chin. But, I wouldn’t trade them. Combined they give me a “look”.  A look that I actually love and appreciate. Together It says that I am stern, confident, strong and determined. My “look” has won wars for me. I didn’t need to say a word, all it took was my “look.” …

It’s was looking to be a splendid Sunday morning this summer. The sun rays were piercing right through the sheer curtains of my charming cocinita. As a working mom, I look forward to my weekend mornings! It always feels wonderful to not have to rush out of the house. I especially enjoy waking up before everyone, and have the house all to myself. QUIET TIME! Oh! The little things you look forward to when you are a mom of four children. My husband loves to say that I am an “old soul.” When I am home, I tend to embrace a slower pace of living. Apple cinnamon tea, with milk, and a good read. Cafe con leche mixed with some raw writing. Throw in a knitted blanket, a scented candle, and freshly cut flowers to the mix, and now your talking my language. So, there I was sitting on my kitchen table preparing my brief tithe & offering message for church service. I had decided the day before that I was going to focus on …

Death is inevitable. We all know that is what lays in waiting. (Sorry for my being blunt, but there is joy at the end of this post!) Yet, when we lose a loved one, it causes such excruciating pain. Life will never be the same. It will always be different. Even for Christians that believe in eternity struggle when they lose a loved one. Life will keep going on, day by day, we will get better in catching up to it.  But, a piece of your life’s puzzle will be gone, and nothing could take its place. The puzzle will have to continue to evolve without that missing piece.  And, all you could do is hope and pray, it will be good. But, you know in your heart, it will never be better. Milly’s story… For many years, my cousin, Milly, and I didn’t keep in touch.  (Sadly, that is the situation for many of my family members.) Last year, I was leading a women’s bible study group for my church, and Milly showed up …

This summer of 2016, I decided to do the unthinkable, at least in my mind. I taught summer school. It had been years, since I did. With all the political, dark clouds looming over CPS (the forever “broke” line and a possible fall strike), I felt it would be wise to take the opportunity and increase my rainy day fund. I was actually excited for the chance to connect with the students and be part of their summer. I have to admit that when I thought about summer school, I couldn’t help but to conjure up images of Mark Harmon and Kirstie Alley. Or, the two fun-loving horror movie fanatics who – yeah, you get the point.  Any product of the 80’s knows what I’m referring to (millennials- feel free to Google it). In case you were wondering, (spoiler alert!) my summer school experience was nothing like the one in the movie- thank God! I can handle my own with the kids, and teaching is my passion. Overall, my 5 weeks of summer school were …

BY BIANCA SANCHEZ This morning, I sent this email to Porchlight Theatre, a Chicago theatre that cast a white man as a Latino in their production of the musical In the Heights. If you agree with my sentiment, use your voice too. Hello, I am a young Latina, born and raised in Chicago, who was thrilled to find out Porchlight was putting on In the Heights. Now, for obvious reasons, I am not. In the Heights is not a silly romance, or universal comedy. You cannot swap out ethnicities in a story that inherently argues for the promotion of the Latino narrative as told by Latinos. Porchlight is roughly 3 miles away from the city’s epicenter of Puerto Rican culture, Humboldt Park, a community grappling with gentrification as I type. You see, the plot of In the Heights is playing out in the theatre’s own backyard, and yet it still cannot grasp the overarching theme of the musical. It is a shame that the casting decision has not backtracked. No matter how you spin it, Porchlight …

Back in May, I wrote a guest blog for this website. In the blog I discussed feminism. A comment was made on the blog, calling out the legitimacy of my arguments. I, along with the help of my sister Bianca, have decided to kindly refute the assertions of the comment and better explain our own beliefs. HERE ARE OUR 4 MAIN ASSERTIONS  The Wage Gap is REAL, and partly caused by discrimination                   Bianca, 18                   ( Note: This video, and all sources listed in the description, are the basis of all my evidence https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=it0EYBBl5LI). While some people refuse to acknowledge the existence of a pay gap between men and women, research has found that it exists. The size of the pay gap depends largely on what is being calculated. The pay gap by hourly wage is 16% – by weekly take home pay between 18 and 19% – and by annual earnings around 20%. This does not account for differences in education, skills, and experience. However, when that is all accounted for the wage gap …

The word submission conjures up many connotations. The world has warped this word by associating it with words like weak, passive, and doormat. I personally don’t think those words accurately represent what the bible has to say about submission. I would argue that it is possible for a strong, independent, self-sufficient, woman can learn to submit willingly and happily to her husband. Here is my story. Growing up in the 80s, on the southwest side of Chicago, I pretty much lived on the streets, or more like the sidewalks. The sidewalk is such an innovative idea. It’s something common and overlooked by adults, but for a child, it’s more than a means to an end. Partly due to the fact that the sidewalk never really took us anywhere but to the end of our block. In which we would turn back around, most likely, on our bikes, big wheels, or roller-skates, and head back to the other side of the block. Sidewalks were our stomping grounds.  But, no one would dare step on the cracks of the …

The sunshine lit up the room as its rays glistened through the sheer, white curtains. The soft spring breeze came through the slightly opened window creating a whimsical waltz with the curtains. The faint smell of freshly mowed grass filled the air, and birds were heard chirping. A bouquet of blossomed bright orange tulips adorned the table, and sliced; sweet strawberries were waiting for me. Once again, spring was graciously embracing me with its presence. And, it had me thinking. Had I changed much since last spring? I am definitely older. Regrettably, I have spotted additional gray hair, appearing like wires peeking through my dark brown hair. But, what I am wondering, or more like hoping to discover is; am I wiser? I am always striving for better, and not the same. For some reason being the same scares me. Adjectives like stagnant, apathy, and complacency come to the forefront of my mind. I know, that is not me. I tend to gravitate towards words like growth, change, and transformation. Those words exemplify spring. In …

It is inevitable that we will face trials and tribulations in life. The bible even tells us to “count it all joy,” when we experience these seasons.  (James 1:2) Certainly, joy can be the last thing we are feeling when tragedy hits close to home, when the storms of life are raging all around us, or when the black clouds gather over us. It is a struggle to see the light of hope. I am no stranger to these difficult times. Unbearable grief, undeserved brokenness, unexpected disappointment, and downright unfair circumstances, have shown their face in my mirror. My heart has experienced such unbearable heaviness. I know what it is like to quietly weep, as I tried to fall asleep. And unfortunately, I have had my share of the uncontrollable, “I can’t breathe”, ugly cry. When right words have very little impact, and all that could comfort my heart and soul was a good cry. I had let it all out! And, then I would ask the question –  “Why God?” Recently, while listening to …

Visiting my mom and little sister in the nursing home hasn’t gotten any easier for me. To be transparent, I pretty much dread the visits. There have been times that I have avoided visiting them at all costs. There is no denying that I have quite a hectic schedule with four children, work, and ministry. I have used my busyness as excuses. I am not saying that I haven’t visited them in the past. But, it hasn’t been as often as I should, or would like to. I know- strikingly horrible, and blatantly shameful of me. Please do bare with me, as I share my struggle with you. At first, I was hesitant to write this, not sure of what people would say or think. But, then I am reminded, that my imperfections, my struggles, my shortcomings, and my failures, can be someone else’s hope.  It can easily be the assurance they need that despite their mess, there is a God that loves them, and only wants to wrap them in his loving arms of …