Mala Unleashed

Ever feel like throwing a tantrum just because you're in a funk? That's exactly what I did the other day. I don't know why I felt that way; I had gotten off from work at 11 a.m. and was going to enjoy a day of hard work around the house. But I was mean and totally disregarded the feelings of those around me (i.e. my husband). There's a term for my behavior, when I step out of my usual "joyful" attitude; it's called "mala". In Spanish, the word is defined as "bad". For me, I earned the label one hot summer morning at a train station in San Diego, California.

My co-workers and I were first in line at the Amtrak station in San Diego, where we had spent the first few days of our vacation together last summer. We were quite happy about being first in line, because we had just learned that the previous train had never arrived and we were probably going to wait in a long line of disgruntled travelers. As the arrival time for our train got closer, the line we had formed had grown exponentially and now snaked around the building. My attention was drawn to three young women who plopped against the wall, away from the line. They sat there listening to their music, smoking, chatting in Spanish.

As the arrival of the next train drew near, I overhead one of the girls ask her friends if they should get in line. "No", she said. "We'll manage to get in". And so she crept up and stood near the front of the line where we were standing. Her friends were obviously uncomfortable with cutting in line and stood back. I turned around and saw the long stream of people who were also waiting patiently in line. I couldn't believe the audacity of these girls, especially since I understood every word they were saying to each other, as they plotted and schemed. Someone behind me would probably not be able to get on the train after waiting in line in this unbearable heat, and here these girls refuse to stand in line and would probably make it on the train and comfortably travel to LA.

Ignited, I took up the charge of the underdog and I spoke up. I said to them in Spanish that if they want to get on the train they better stand in line with the rest of the people, that it wasn't fair that they cut in line, especially at the front of the line. That someone who has been waiting in line for hours would probably not be able to get on because of their rudeness and inconsiderate behavior. She fired back in Spanish that they didn't know that they needed to stand in line and that they had a plane to catch from LA for which they would be late. Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. That in Spain they didn't have to stand in lines. I had news for them: this wasn't Spain! And actually I have been to Spain and spent a good time at the train stations standing in line. They whined and cried, argued and whined some more. The security guard came and started handing out tickets to those in line. I brought to his attention that these young ladies were trying to cut in line. He got two other guards and said absolutely not, that it wasn't fair to those who had been standing in line for hours. That's when the girls turned to me, "Eres una mala. ¡Desgraciada! ¡Mala!" I smiled and shrugged my shoulders. Stick and stones... I told them that it's not that I didn't want them to get on the train, they just need to follow the rules, especially when they knew the rules and chose not to follow them. My traveling friends had been watching the whole situation unfold with curiosity and humor, not understanding what we had been saying to each other. They asked me what "mala" meant. And so I told them. They had witnessed a side of me that they had never seen at work, a confrontational, stand-up-for-my-cause-side of Joy that I keep hidden unless the underdog needs a hero.

We returned to work a week later, my coworkers telling the rest of my officemates the tale of Mala, the train-line superhero. And so the name was coined and is now used by all who sit near my cube. "Don't make me get mala on you!" is a frequent threat, all said with a smirk and sideways glance towards me. Mala hasn't surfaced since that hot summer day in San Diego. Until two days ago when I unleashed Mala on my poor unsuspecting husband. And it wasn't for a good cause this time. There was no reason or excuse for my behavior, except my selfish spirit taking over my joyful nature; probably an unusual mix of hormones and lack of sleep. I've apologized and tried to make up for my behavior. He was sweet and said I was allowed to have a bad day every once in a while. But still... Mala should only be let out when there's a cause that requires someone to stand up for others who don't have a voice. And I misused my gift.

What happened to the rude girls? They got on the train. With smirks on their faces, they got on the same car as we did, and found seats away from us. I was glad they were able to get on, as long as all the others standing in line were able to get on too. Plus my traveling friends had said they had my back.

In the Depths of Despair

There is so much sadness in this world. Every day we hear of atrocities against children, abductions of innocent people, families being targeted and killed... death, disease, despair. I live surrounded by good things, a haven hedged by love and protection. And I can't even begin to fathom what it would be like to live in fear and sadness. I pray that if one day I have to be raked through those coals, that my God will keep my heart unscathed. My soul felt heavy this morning from a couple of situations in friends’ lives, and I sought solace in the Word. I started reading about the kings and rulers during the times of the Israel and Judah conflict, way back during the prophet Elijah's time (1 Kings 15 & 16, 2 Chronicles 13). I started in the book of Chronicles and then went back to reference the same characters in 1 Kings. That's when I began reading about Elijah in chapters 17 through 19.

I knew the stories by heart, but this time I was captivated by the smaller details which I had probably read too quickly through before. Elijah had just experienced victory over the priests of Baal, and rain was now pounding hard on the parched, scorched earth as undeniable evidence that Jehovah reigns supreme over all. An evil woman makes a threat that sends Elijah fleeing to the wilderness, tail between his legs, defeated, after mightily demonstrating God's power just a few hours before. What hope is there for me, when this powerful man of God feels disappointment and discouragement, even after experiencing firsthand a miracle of great proportions? Come on! He had been fed by ravens, given bread daily by a poor widow who used flour and oil that never ran out, witnessed the resurrection of a child after prayer and supplication. How could this man of God run so fast and hard from a mere woman who worshipped gods of stone? And yet there, in the depths of his despair, God sent an angel to nourish Elijah, to prepare him for a journey where he could hear the still, small voice of the Lord. This the part where I was most fascinated. The angel brought him bread and a jug of water. Twice. That was a total two small loaves of bread and two jugs of water. The heavenly nourishment he received that day allowed him to travel almost 200 miles for 40 days through wilderness non-stop. Wow. I want some of that bread. During this dark moment of Elijah's life, God personally fed him and nourished him enough to withstand 40 days of trudging through the wilderness. And the thing is that God can do that today for us. I haven't felt despair like Elijah has, but I have faith that if I ever do, God will bring me bread that will sustain me and get me through my wilderness. The nourishment is not intravenous - there needs to be action on my part. But God has held up His end of the deal and brings me bread to feast upon. All I have to do is take, eat, and get up.