Gerry with a "G" in hot water.

---

 

“Biting off more than I can chew.”

 

I was only seven when I started asking questions about where was God?

If Heaven was the house of God, what was beyond the heaven of the heavens?

If God was the father of Adam, then who was the Father of God? Thus, the problem of the infinite and the eternal became my recurring nightmares. 

 

In my grandmother's big bed there was room for me. In her bosom I found refuge where her gentle voice would tenderly say, “It is alright baby, it is all right,” while softly her finger would make circular motions on top of my head.

 

I was able to go back to sleep under the assuring words of grandma who would not let anything happen to me.

 

Oh, if it was that simple to cope with my present nightmares.

Ever since the death of my Ruthie I have become vulnerable to all kinds of bullying. Parallel to that I have become older and sicker. Noises real or fictitious surrounds my house during the night so that going out with my flash light is out of the question. Due to lack of exercise I can hardly keep my balance.

 

Last night I hardly slept one hour. When I woke up and saw a man inside the house pointing a gun at me that really woke me up screaming. It was a recurring nightmare.

 

My children think I should install surveillance cameras that can help me monitor what goes on outside using my smartphone. My problem is that if a technician comes to do the job, I need someone to be here to work with him and I have no such a person available.

 

My daughter Lois Cidolfa, my grandma’s namesake, has invited me back to Pasadena in the  Los Angeles area but her house is too small. On the other hand, I can only afford to pay one third of a small house if I sell my house.

 

My Caleb found a small piece of land big enough to build a small house but the sale of my property can only buy the land and no money left to build. 

 

I miss my grandma and my Ruthie so much. As a people person my solitary confinement of eight hard years of “home alone” has been too long. I need fellowship. The last two years after my stroke and now the pandemic is making me cry “uncle” or “grandma.”

 

When I was in the Washington DC area in the 1990’s a gentleman in the church offered me the opportunity to buy a house in a joint venture so that at sale time in the future we would divide the profit accordingly. At that time, I was not ready to settle in the USA but was going to Peru.

By the way, if there is any “uncle” or “aunt” or anyone interested in a joint venture, please pray about it and let me know. Money in real estate is better than money in the bank, I think.

 

I have a large family and a larger extended family in Jesus; I should not live as an orphan. I am in need to feel the soft finger of the spirit of my grandmother rubbing the top of my head in small circles telling me “It’s alright” or “everything will be fine.” I just want to sleep enough and eat right. That is not too much to ask, is it?

 

I have unfinished work.

 

This is a bruised reed on duty.

 

Gerry Gutierrez.

 

PS. My reality is worse than I can describe, but my blessings are also beyond description. I am a little embarrassed to be blunt and straightforward. They say that the squeaky wheel gets the oil. "The Baby that does not cry does not get the milk?"

 

PS. Pictures are of my boys being mentored in high places. Astronaut James Irwin gave me the gift of his picture on the Moon.