I woke up today with my "big dreamer cap" on, fantasizing I'm writing this column 30 years from now. My youngest daughter is 40 years old, and we're ready to celebrate International Women's Day 2046. I sure hope by this time our world has figured out a way to end global warming and I am not writing this column drinking a cold margarita in my backyard in Fargo, a place that became the hottest vacation destination in March.
I am Brazilian by birth, American by choice and an international citizen by nature. My father's family is from Lebanon and my mom's family is from Spain, and as a child I spent my Sundays watching soccer in both of my grandmothers' houses—eating tabbouleh for lunch and paella for dinner.
Growing up in a big, loud, Catholic, Brazilian family of six kids, for many years I saw God as a distant "thing" out there—something I was forced to visit on Sunday, but disconnected from the next six days of my life. While I was studying psychology, I started believing God was maybe just man's creation to ease the pain of human suffering. Then, after moving to Fargo and facing postpartum depression, life strapped me in for a humble ride and showed me otherwise. I unsuccessfully did everything I could in my human and professional capacity to heal myself.
I was at my grandma’s bedside weeks before she passed away at the age of 90 in 2001. What I thought would be just a sad goodbye ended up becoming a moment that shaped the course of my destiny forever. “Cris, you have the right to choose your life; make sure you choose wisely.
I had a moment last week at the gym that inspired me to narrow my New Year’s resolution list down to just one single word. I was sharing one of my resolutions for 2015 with a woman I just connected with in class – to finally lose all my baby weight. When she asked me how old my baby was, I said, “Uhhh … my ‘baby’ is 9 years old.” I felt so embarrassed that I caught myself apologizing and giving her many excuses as to why it’s taking so long. At that moment, I realized that my fears of not fulfilling my own and others’ expectations turned me into an expert on apologizing for things I don’t n
“I am so sorry!
“Cris, you’re up next ...” That’s the last thing I heard before going on stage to give my second ever TEDx talk. As I peeked through the curtain at the 800 faces of those who came to the Fargo Theatre for last week’s TEDxFargo event, my heart was beating so fast I hoped the audience wouldn’t think the noise was part of my introduction music. I was so nervous, yet filled with deepest gratitude for the volunteers and visionaries who put this compelling event together for our city. In that moment, my mind went back to the first time I heard about TED – a nonprofit founded in 1984 with the mis
Recently, I was sitting at the airport in Chicago, waiting to get on a flight that was supposed to leave 24 hours prior. My husband and I had been planning a getaway trip for months as a chance to reconnect before heading back into the busy summer with my upcoming Brazilian family visit. My husband knows what is waiting for him in the next few weeks ... Diane Sawyer will be speaking Spanish because the first thing my mom does when she arrives in Fargo is switch the language on our TV. His morning paper will be found in my brother’s room before he even gets the chance to read it. My sister
A lot has been said lately about the 2014 World Cup in Brazil: corruption, strikes, protest on the streets ...