Monthly Archives: July 2015

UnMasked

Photo Credit: justposhmasks.com

All through my life, I’ve dealt with feelings of low self-esteem and self-worth. I felt undone, incomplete, or insignificant. Along the way, I realized this stemmed from my childhood. I did not ask for it. I certainly did not want it. But with an undeniably painful past and a seemingly questionable future, I muddled through life. I thought a man could save me, but he only tried to create me in his own image! I became his shadow, even worshiped the ground he walked on, subservient to his every whim. I was truly lost, with no identity, no voice – no me. Yet I held on, not wanting to lose him. This, by the way, is a perfect example of insecurity: the more easily threatened we are, the more insecure we are.

Beth Moore says: “Insecurity lives in constant terror of loss.” As I’ve mentioned before, I’ve been reading Beth Moore’s So Long, Insecurity with the subtitle You’ve Been a Bad Friend to Us. How I wish she wrote this book 40 years ago! She says, “Insecurity is not only a woman’s battle.” She identifies insecurity as a “profound sense of self-doubt – a deep feeling of uncertainty about our basic worth and our place in the world. The insecure man or woman lives in constant fear of rejection and deep uncertainty about whether his or her own feelings and desires are legitimate.”

I thought about myself as a Christian, why from time to time do I still struggle with insecurities? Why does rejection crush me so? Why do I second-guess everything? Beth reveals an interesting point about herself in her book: “I not only lack security, I also lack faith. I don’t just doubt myself, I also doubt God about myself.

Now I don’t know about you, but that struck a chord in me!

She goes on to say how some of us never seek healing from God for our insecurities because we feel like we don’t fit the profile. But insecurity’s best cover is perfectionism. Now there’s a mask for you!

A person who has no self-worth or a low self-esteem

tends to hide behind a mask.

Note: Here’s a thought-provoking poem I came across: Don’t Be Fooled By Me

What masks are you prone to wear? Looking back, I recall hiding the pain behind my smile…

Don’t try to be somebody you’re not, no one is perfect. It’s okay to let your guard down. We will face difficult and troubling times. Just remember God loves us just the way we are; He loves us too much to leave us that way.

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Filed under Beth Moore, insecurities, Masks

Beauty For Ashes

Beauty For Ashes

“To appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that he might be glorified.”
Isaiah 61:3
(Photo Credit: forashes.org)

My devotion today is found in Isaiah 61:3. Although this passage of scripture brings me comfort, I wondered…

How can there be a smidgen of beauty amongst the rubble? Or ashes?

How is this even possible?

How do we see beauty in the midst of suffering, hopelessness, or despair?

When I saw my baby sister lying in her small white coffin, I sure didn’t see any beauty in that.

When I noticed my mama with bruises on her body, I failed to see the beauty.

My former husband was known for his strength, vigor, and sure-footed, morphed into a sloppy drunk after one drink of alcohol being miles away from anything charming.

To see my grandpa become a prisoner in his own body, his barrel-chested physic becoming sunken and scrawny was a far cry from beauty.

For my eyes to caress my grandma’s features, once so robust and plump, turning thin and frail after having lost so much weight due to illness wasn’t lovely to behold.

Watching the back of my former husband after he pulled the rug from under my feet, and left me in the dust while I choked in my sobs and called out his name wasn’t a picturesque scene.

My tiny 29-day-old granddaughter swollen from fluids in a medically induced coma after her open-heart surgery wasn’t eye-appealing to me.

Scars are not beautiful. Neither are the hidden bruises on the body or on the heart.

Death is not beautiful; the grieving of loved ones taken from you is never beautiful. Hunger is not beautiful. Loneliness is not beautiful.

Repossession isn’t quaint. Foreclosure is eons away from being delightful.

So how can there be beauty for ashes?

I believe it is found in hope. Hope against hope. Hope that the imperfect will become perfect. Hope that the pain will cease. Hope that there will be a day of reckoning. Hope that the scattered pieces will rebuild. Hope for healing and relief. Hope that the light will dawn and a new day will come. Hope that this too shall come to pass. Hope in heaven. Hope that the best is yet to come. And most importantly, believing in the Blessed Hope that one day, we shall see our loved ones again who have crossed over.

I can yell it now from the mountaintop: Thank you, Lord, for turning my life’s ugliness into a thing of beauty!

Out of sadness and hurt, will come strength and victory.

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July 23, 2015 · 10:39 PM

Full Circle – My Writing Journey

11750720_1017090005008790_4728723792586052925_nHey guys! Today I feel I have come full circle. It’s surreal that I am sitting here doing a book signing at the same Barnes and Noble, where I first attended a weekly writers’ group two years before my story was published.

Back then, I’d sit with many seasoned writers and talented published authors, wondering if the day would ever come that my own dream would be fulfilled and declare: I AM AN AUTHOR!

Once a week, I’d bring 5 pages of my manuscript and make several copies (enough for 10-15 other attendees) before arriving at the group. I passed around my copies to everyone there, and someone would volunteer to read aloud. As I listened, the rest added notes and made corrections, suggestions, and/or comments on my sheets. Then it was someone else’s turn to critique. I enjoyed doing that but I couldn’t wait to take my work home and sit in front of the computer to see what–if any–changes I should make.

I’ve met some wonderful people I consider friends to this day, and received great feedback which only helped propelled me forward. Looking back, I am thankful that I didn’t give up. I took constructive criticism; I stayed the course. I kept my voice as well as my message. If I couldn’t quite convey the meaning in my sentences correctly, I welcomed suggestions. However, if someone didn’t get my meaning but added their own take instead–which meant changing the entire contents from what I initially believed how it should read–I’d reworked the sentence, paragraph, or phrase to express better what I wanted to say, or left it alone.

I believe you have to stay true to who you are. After all, it’s your story and in my case, wasn’t one of fiction. Therefore, only you can tap into your own mind filled with memories and jot down those scenes and sequels in your head. May not always be an easy feat, but oh, can be so worth it!

So for those of you who haven’t read my story, just what is the message? My message is one of hope, perseverance, and forgiveness. You don’t have to be a product of your environment and have your past dictate your future. Know that you don’t have to remain isolated or medicate yourself, nor do you need to become ashamed of your pain. You can rise above the ashes and soar to new heights bruised or scarred, and not remain broken. I believe there is healing for us all; it’s a work in progress and sometimes takes a while. But where there is life, there is hope.

The fruition of my entire journey is to hear that others are inspired.

My story, “Running in Heels: A Memoir of Grit and Grace” is currently found at your favorite online bookstore.

Here are a few photos taken at Barnes and Noble for you to enjoy. Two hours went by so quickly!

Thank you for taking part in my journey.

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Filed under Author, Book Signing Event, Writing Journey

Shark Bait

In his late twenties, my husband’s occupation was working on a 250 ft. workboat as an offshore surveyor in the Gulf of Mexico, staking out a pipeline for a jackup rig. This is his story …

“It was a fairly nice day, the weather was comfortable. In those days, I was wearing shorts and flip-flops. I had on a heavy belt with my big 7-inch sheath knife. It was early evening, and the sun was still out. We had to lift the anchor and head on out. The jackup rig was coming in and we needed to get the buoys made up and dropped on the pipeline. After about an hour, I had all my buoys made and the boat headed on out for miles, running around getting ready to make our run into the platform.”

“Now, the ship has to get real close to the platform, make a sharp turn, then line up on the pipeline and start dropping the buoys where the pipeline is supposed to be.”

“So, I’m standing there on the back deck, everything is going good, and my buoys are all made with the rope trailing in the water.”

“I’m just kind of walking around with nothing to do, so I start to clean up. I throw scrapped rope off … tin cans … I’m just cleaning up the back of the deck. There’s this empty spool that usually has a rope on it. I lift the spool and hoist it over the deck and immediately think, Oh, no! I run to the back of the deck because I got my ropes on the buoys trailing on the water. I reach the edge of the boat and I’m watching that spool get caught on the rope. It’s like slamming on the brakes. My anchor shoots like a bullet right off the deck! And where I had it positioned, the buoy comes flying around and hits me from behind and just knocks me right off the back end of the boat into the water.”

“The first thing I figure out is that you can’t swim with flip-flops! I kick those suckers off!. I’m down under and freaking out, and just as I come on up, by instinct I start swimming for the boat. Now the boat’s doing 20 knots. There’s no way on God’s green earth I’ll ever catch it! And I immediately stop. I feel something and look around and realize I am inside the other buoy line! That thing can wrap me up and take me right under! I dive back down real quick and swim off to the side and come back up again. Then I start yelling for the boat … like they can hear me. Because of the engine noise alone, they can’t hear me. They also got all the pumps on in the back deck going as well. Nobody standing on the deck can hear me if they’re looking at me.”

Homemade buoys

Photo source: unknown

“I’m paddling my arms along and wondering, What the heck do I do now? I’m looking around and see the buoy that knocked me over. Now the cane pole on the buoy is broken; the flag is down in the water with the light bulb thingy. So I swim for it and grab a hold of the thing, but it really isn’t enough to keep me up. It helps to keep me buoyant, but it doesn’t really float me. I kind of hang onto it while lightly paddling to keep up. After a while I’m sitting there, watching the boat heading off into the distance … heading off … heading off. Now I can see the platform from where I’m at. I see the boat get right up to that big old platform and I think, Okay, right about now they’re going to make the turn. The boat turns and I think, Right about there, I’m supposed to drop a buoy. I’m watching and the boat makes another turn and then I think, Right about now, I should be dropping another buoy. And then, Right about now they’re going to realize something might be wrong! Then the lights come on in the boat! The spotlight is on, and the boat makes a sharp turn heading back on around.”

250' workboat

Photo Source: unknown

“All during this time, party Chief Mike is running through the boat, first going straight to my bunk, thinking I’ve fallen asleep through the whole thing. He then heads for the bathrooms and starts to panic. I’m told that Mike is going absolutely crazy; everybody is searching for me! The first thing that popped into their minds is that I had dropped a buoy, but had gotten wrapped up in it and went down with it – that’s what they thought. Now I can see the boat way off in the distance. As it comes on around to the platform, they start dropping the divers over searching for me, fearing I’m tied up in the buoy someplace down below. I’m sitting there all the while thinking, Hellooo? Hello guys! I can’t get that flag back up, because it broke about 3 or 4 feet above me, so I can’t really reach it to get it up. I’m thinking about breaking it while I’m paddling and then it dawned on me, There’s a counterweight on this thing!”

“I dive down but can’t get the thing broken off. I’m chewing on the tape to try to get it to tear and finally got it torn. The counterweight drops away and I swim back up. The buoy lies flat but it’s holding me up now. I was finally able to rest and hang onto it. I’m looking at the platform and was reaching for my knife to cut the rope loose and then I realize, My knife is gone! Apparently, the buoy hooked my knife when I got knocked off and ripped it right off my belt. So I’m sitting there trying to untie this thing. I’m working at it and working at it, and I could not get that thing untied! (I make a mean buoy.) It’s polypropylene, so there’s no chewing through a thing like that; it’s just really tough stuff. I finally give up on that (which is actually a good thing because God is good, I had lost my knife, and I make a mean buoy). If I had cut that rope and tried swimming to the platform, I’d have never made it. The current was going the other way – two, three miles away. I would have never made it. I’d had just gone with the current and would have been long gone. No telling if and when they would have found me.”

“I’m trapped here; I’m not going any place. It’s getting dark and I’m thinking, Man! They’re never going to find me! And then it hits me, I have a light here blinking and a flag! So I reach over–I can finally grab the broken part and actually hold it up out of the water–and now I’m sitting there waving it around. You know, miles away it’s really hard to notice a flag. I then see some of the other boats on the platform untied; running around and racing off down the south of the platform, just going in different directions. I’m thinking, What the heck are those guys doing? It turns out they were chasing all the little glow-in-the-dark things I had thrown over the side! So they’d see a speck of light out there and just head straight for it.”

Photo Credit: Oleg Doroshenko #9417199 (stock photo)

“Finally, somebody spots my little itty-bitty light off in the distance and heads towards me. I see my ship and a crew boat coming. My ship is heading for me on my right, and a little crew boat–maybe a 75-footer–very low on the water–heading for me off to my left. They’re coming at me and then I thought, Okay, NOW is when a shark shows up! I’m sitting there hanging on, waving my flag and they’re coming up. One of the guys has one of those big life rings.”

“Now you have to remember, this is a big boat. The bow of that thing is way the heck up there. I mean, it’s 15 feet or more, so there’s no way I’m crawling up there. I have to be able to come up the back or something. Anyway, one of the guys has this ring and he yells, “‘Mark, here, catch this!'” He flings it out, and it goes boing! and just stops cold and swings down; it doesn’t even touch the water. I put my arms out and I’m like ‘hello?‘ I then turn to swim for the crew boat because it’s so low in the water that I just climbed right up. The guys give me some drinking water and then transport me back to the other boat. It’s late into the evening when I am finally rescued. I was in that gulf for 6-7 hours before they found me.”

Photo Source: Pinterest

Photo Source: Pinterest

And so the moral of the story is…?

“I always carried three knives after that!”

Gotta love him.

Here’s to my wild and crazy, adventurous husband who was lost at sea for nearly 7 hours. He conquered fear–void of encountering any sharks–and remained of sound mind in the midst of danger. Thank God, he didn’t drown and had lost that knife, or he would have tried to swim and then been carried away by the current.

Happy Birthday, babe. You’re the cutest shark bait that I know. And I’m so glad God saved you for me.

I love you.

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© M.A. Pérez, 2015, All Rights Reserved

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Filed under Lost at Sea, Man Overboard, Offshore Surveyor

The Battle Is Real

C. S. Lewis said, “God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world.”

Bad things happen to good people. The Bible says: It rains on the just and unjust. (Matt. 5:45)

We are not immune to suffering, pain, hardships, struggles, and losses. Adversities are part of life. The battle is real with me just as much as it is with you. Some suffer in silence, and some scream at the top of their lungs while alone. Although in a different way, inner turmoil can hurt just as much as physical pain. We battle within just as much as our outer shell. Pain is pain. When you hurt, you HURT. You may not see my pain, and I may not see yours, but it doesn’t lessen the reality. Someone said: Pain is inevitable, and suffering is optional.

Sometimes we are left with scars. Our heart has melted … waxed cold … turned numb. We are consumed with grief, despair, and unanswered questions. What do we do now? Where do we go? Who do we run to? When will it end? How much more? Why, God? Why?

I’ve learned, adversity can either make you or break you. I wonder: Is it possible to go through the fire and come out without the stench of smoke? Don’t let adversity crush you. Build a support system: Family, Faith, Friends. Resilience is like a muscle that strengthens as it is gradually exposed to obstacles.

As a Christian, I may not have all the answers as to the whys, but I have unwavering faith, even when my flesh is shaken. There is nothing too hard for Him, therefore, I can rest in the midst of challenges.

Though the tears may fall and the struggles may come, there will be a time of refreshing and healing. Maybe not in my time frame, but in His perfect timing. I am a little stronger and a little wiser after each storm. I am comforted knowing that my battle belongs to God and He hears the cries of the brokenhearted. (Psm. 147:3)

In times of suffering …

 “Either you’ll become better, or you’ll become bitter, but you won’t be the same again.”

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Photo Credit: Unknown Source

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Filed under Inspirational, Overcoming Adversity, Resiliency

In Case You Missed It

booksigning

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RadioNEWINTERVIEW     flashing_new

http://www.blogtalkradio.com/toughtalkradionetwork/2015/07/09/lifes-issues-with-lauren-jawno

33:22 minutes into the show is the beginning of my interview w/ Lauren Jawno

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My Colorado’s Bicentennial (Mis)Adventure

July 31, 1976

Have you ever experienced a what if? Ever been dangerously close to a hazardous situation, to realize just how fortunate you were to have escaped, only to have it gnaw at you later?

Today, as I celebrate this Independence Day, my mind goes back to a moment in time I shall never forget.

We headed for Colorado’s Rocky Mountain State Park for a continued weekend bicentennial celebration, to enjoy the magnificent canyons’ cool mountain air and breathtaking river valleys.

LovelandPassCO

Loveland Pass, CO looking east from the summit. Courtesy of Wikipedia.

The afternoon breeze mingled with the whiff of hamburgers sizzling on the pit, put our troubles behind us. Don was in good spirits, along with an ample supply of his favorite beverage. He drank one after another, as he rehashed old childhood and war stories. I roasted marshmallows over the campfire until raindrops drove us inside our van. We tucked in for the night in our sleeping bags.

In no time, Don’s snoring commenced. As my eyelids grew heavy, I thought, at least I’m not out in this wilderness alone.

Sometime later, I awoke with a start, “Donny! Donny, wake up!”

“Hmmm?” my still-asleep, great protector mumbled, turning over.

I sat up and held my breath. I felt the van vibrate. The plunking sound of raindrops rattled across the rooftop, lashing at the van’s exterior. I strained to listen for something else, feel something else but wasn’t sure what.

Only a case of bad nerves, I reasoned, starting to lie back down. No! There it is again.

“Donny, did you feel that? Our whole van shook!”

“Go back to sleep, gal,” Donny muttered. “It’s probably just a bear.”

Just a bear? Better not be any bear out there!

Minutes passed. I lay back down and willed my body to relax. The sound of rain soon lulled my unsettled thoughts and sleep overtook me. Before nodding off, I thought I heard rumbling in the distance.

Dusk turned to dawn, and I considered my night’s fright silly. We ate a quick breakfast of hard-boiled eggs, leftover meat, and orange juice.

“Shake a leg,” Donny announced. “Time to go.”

We left our campsite cruising over mucky roads. Puddles and slushy trails made the roads treacherous and tricky. At one point, our van was stuck in the mud. Donny kept his foot over the gas pedal and accelerated. The tires sloshed and the van swirled, nearly tipping over.

“Jesus!” I cried out, thinking we were history.

Unruffled under pressure, Donny turned the wheel sharply to the right and back on the road again.

“What’s the matter?” he said, looking at me as if I were a dimwit.

“Nothing,” I huffed.

As we continued, we noticed massive trees toppled over, and many bobbed along in the river. We heard the whump, whump, whump, whump of helicopters overhead. Soon, we approached park rangers re-routing traffic. I stuck my head out the window and overheard bits of instructions given to other passengers in their vehicle. “. . . mountainside . . . engulfed . . . destroyed . . . missing . . . proceed with extreme caution . . . !”

The reporter on the radio described how a typical summer rainfall turned into a horrendous nightmare for hundreds of people. Many homes were washed away in a flash flood. Cars vanished, buried under tons of debris. Roads had swept away along the canyon, and broken concrete sticking out of the riverbank like foreign objects. It took hours before we careened back into town.

Photo: Vehicles were left stranded in the aftermath of the 1976 Big Thompson flood. Courtesy of Water Resources Archive

Photo: Vehicles were left stranded in the aftermath of the 1976 Big Thompson flood. Courtesy of Water Resources Archive

“Big Thompson River Flood Marker” by Wusel007 – Own work. Licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons

The morning headlines read:

“THE BIG THOMPSON CANYON FLASH FLOOD.”

Many were reported missing. Dead. Houses and businesses were washed away, and destroyed. The overwhelming thought hit me on how oblivious we were to the dangers the night before. If we had camped near the Loveland area, we would never have escaped. Donny could have innocently erred by having us camped out in that Loveland area—and brushed off my concerns in his half-drunken sleep, just as he did the night before. Then what? We might have been one of those statistics.

© M.A. Pérez, 2015, All Rights Reserved

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Filed under Bicentennial, Colorado, Memoir, travel