It’s been a while. As I sit here constantly thinking about writing again, and writing more often. I figured what best way to do it then to tell you my story….

Hi,

My name is Mayra Fernanda Carpena, I was born in Nogales, Sonora, Mexico the afternoon of July 31^st and the Lord gifted me my loving and kind Mother Emma Bertha who constantly teaches me what selfless love means as well as gave me my hardworking and softy of a Father, Fernando who has given me the purest example of a Godly man.

I am the oldest of three, followed in age by Fernando, my charming, resourceful, heart of gold, brother who fits all definitions of “the middle child” and last but certainly not least, Jose Pablo, my kind, hilarious younger brother who takes care of me always as if he was the oldest one. Together we form the Carpena Amador Family.

You see, Family is a big part of my life. It has shaped me into the person I am today and influenced me to my core. You see my mother is 1 of 7 children, my father 1 of 4 and together I have 17 aunts and uncles, 22 cousins, and 21 nieces and nephews with 2 others on the way, and yes, I know them all and am close to all of them.

When I was only 6 years old, we were in living in Hermosillo, Sonora, Mexico, but one late night my mother received a call that her younger brother who was only 30 years old had died instantly from a shot to the chest by his best friend while playing with a gun, and this tragic event, ended up for me at least, bringing so many Blessing to my life. 

Because of this we ended up moving to Arizona so that we could be closer to my mother’s family. This led to countless Sunday gathering. Every Sunday, we would all wake-up have breakfast together as we did every day, except that on Sunday’s we attended the 1:00 o’clock Mass together at San Felipe de Jesus in Nogales, Arizona and then made our way to Nogales, Sonora to my grandmother’s house (sometimes an aunt’s house) and we would gather for lunch. Every Sunday was a feast, filled with so much laughter, playtime, bonding and the occasional scolding.

My childhood was beautiful, I grew up surrounded by a loving and supportive family who cared about my well being in a way that I could not possibly begin to understand. Then came middle school and high school, trying times in many ways. When I entered middle school, I was placed in all the advanced classes which meant that I was separated from my elementary school friends and placed in classrooms with other teens who I did not know, but who all seemed to know each other as they all came from the same elementary school. An elementary school in an affluent neighborhood in my hometown. 

This is where it all started, the constant feeling that I was not good enough, and not because someone bullied me, or people told me nasty things. It was all self-criticism, sometimes it was the fact that I was not able to read as fast as my classmates. Sometimes it was not being able to properly pronounce certain words, other times it was the fact that I wasn’t getting 100% on my homework and on exams. The damage I was causing myself got worse every year. It escalated from criticizing my school work to criticizing what I wore, and how I looked. I was so self-conscious, but I learned to internalize this so well that on the outside I just seemed like a normal, happy teenager who was thriving in a new environment. Then high school came, and the roller coaster of self-criticism only got worse.

The summer before I started high school I took PE so that I could get ahead of the game, get the credit out of the way an be able to focus on other subject matters. What I failed to realize is that during that summer session, I convinced myself I was ugly, fat, and not worth a second look. All of this simply because I couldn’t run a mile under 7 minutes and could not fit into tiny gym shorts. Why do I share this? Because this shaped my high school years as I dedicated my life to sports. I told myself I would be the best and would be in the best shape of my life. I started to work out 4-5 hours a day 6 days out of the week and developed a very unhealthy eating habit. I would have breakfast at home because I had no way of not eating since we would eat as a family and then I would only eat a small bag of carrots during lunch and find multiple excuses for my mom as to why I shouldn’t have dinner.

Aside from the unhealthy relationship I had with myself I had a great relationship with my friends and with my family. I had a group of friends who I counted on for anything and we were living our best lives, being involved in various school activities from academics to sports, and everything in between. 

Then came my Senior year in high school, I met a group of teens who attended the youth group at Sacred Heart of Jesus Parish (the only other Catholic Church in my town). I was invited to attend an Arcoiris Retreat which ended up being a reversion to my Catholic Faith. That weekend I finally understood how much God loved me. I finally understood that Jesus died for me on the cross. I learned and understood truly that even if I was the only person in the world and no one else, he would have still died for me, so that I could be saved. I finally understood what it meant to be a part of the body of Christ. I understand that we couldn’t all be mouths, or eyes or fingers, I understood that some of us are the heart, and the feet, and that no part is less valuable, and that you shouldn’t compare yourself to the eye if you were created to protect the heart. (1 Cor 12:12-27). That weekend at the age of 17, I decided that I would live my life for Christ. That no matter where life took me or what cards I would be dealt, I would serve the Lord.

Did that weekend make all my problems go away… Definitely not! I still had to go out and fight my inner demons. I still fight image issues, now on the opposite end, with emotional eating. I constantly feel like my fight with depression and anxiety is a never ending uphill battle. Some years are harder than others. Some days are better than others. Some days getting out of bed is a victory. You see my decision to follow the Lord all the days of my life happened 13 years ago but my choice to continue to follow him happens every single day. 

My decision to follow the Lord happened every weekend during the 10 years I volunteered as a youth minister at my hometown in Nogales, Arizona. My choice to follow the Lord happened even in the mist of scandal when as a young adults we were asked to no longer volunteer with the parish teens because of compliance and safe environment issues in the Church. My choice to follow the Lord happens every time I choose to not think about suicide and remind myself that my life is previous. My choice to follow the Lord happens every day when I love those who want to taint my name. My decision to follow the Lord happens every time I go to Mass even when I don’t want to. My choice to follow the Lord happens at the end of my 70-hour work week. It happens when I chose to forgive those who have belittled me. My choice to follow the Lord happens every time I compliment myself or decide to have a photo session to remind myself that God loves me and my life is worth it. My decision to follow the Lord happens daily even in the mist of chaos and darkness. 

You see the Lord has called me to be a Saint despite my inequities,

despite my lack of degrees, despite my fight with depression, anxiety and constant suicidal thoughts. The Lord has called me to be a Saint by loving my coworkers, my neighbors and those who have wronged me. He calls me to be a saint as he called Peter, even though he denied him not once, or twice, but three times. He calls me to be a Saint just as he called the woman at the well who had numerous husbands. He calls me to be a Saint just as he called Job in the mist of loss in his life, when he had nothing and the nothing he had was also taken away. He calls me to be a Saint as he called Nehemiah when he was asked to rebuild his city. He calls me to be a Saint as he called St. Paul who persecuted Christians and later became part of God’s story. 

You see just because I decided to give my life to Christ, it didn’t mean that I would no longer suffer, no longer need to fight. What it does mean is that because I choose to live for Christ, I’ve found my story in the story of Christ. I see myself in the Pharisee’s when I think I know better. I see myself in Abraham and his longing for a family. I see myself in Thomas when I doubt God will make himself present in my life. I also see myself in Mary and the way she suffered silently for injustice and in Martha who wouldn’t stop working to enjoy God’s presence. 

You see my story is God’s story and God’s story is right in front of our hands. Don’t be afraid to find your story and make the choice, even if it’s every day. I can’t guarantee you won’t suffer or have rough days, but I can’t guarantee it will be worth it!