Category Archives: Gary Chapman

October 10, 2022 · 5:08 PM

On Borrowed Time

How time flies.

We’ve been caring for Mama in our home for the past 3 years. After spending the holidays with us like she’d normally do, she never returned to her apartment. Hubby and I noticed how frail she had become and the realization hit us both that she was going to need more assistance than what she’d been getting living on her own.

We do what we have to.

Our adult daughter, who also lives with us, is a tremendous help and caregiver for Mom, as well. My husband and I work full-time. Even with care providers, the bath-nurses, and medical folk checking in on Mom on a weekly basis, my daughter fills in the gap and then some.

Last year, after her doctor’s visit and blood work results, Mom’s doctor ordered that she be admitted to the hospital. Her blood pressure and blood count were dangerously low! During the four nights there, she received two units of blood and an iron infusion before returning home, along with her energy and appetite back! A year later, in August, it happened again – she was hospitalized and released. Soon after, I got medical POA, so when the repeated episode occurred a month later, this time, thankfully, Mom agreed to have an endoscopy procedure instead of coming home.

She had a mass in her stomach.

The dreaded cancer.

We cried, reminisced, and prayed.

Dr. Solomon would be Mom’s surgeon. We prayed non-stop for this physician and witnessed how he used wisdom in dealing with Mom’s delicate procedure beforehand. We placed our trust in him, knowing that the God we served–the Great Physician–was in control.

On the day of surgery, my husband, and children joined me. As they wheeled her off to surgery, I could see flecks of fear swimming in her eyes. I hoped she found strength in mine, howbeit my heart was heavy. You see, I became that little girl again. And I cried out to her, “Momma, come back to me!”

We waited in the waiting area for half a day, even when her surgery was over and she was in Post-Opt room. The good news, the cancer did not seem to have spread to any other area in her body. However, they removed 80% of her stomach.

Mama remained in ICU for a couple of days and then moved to a private room. I remained with her spending the night as much as I could, giving her my love and support every chance. We have always had a complex relationship–she and I–but no matter what, she is still my mama and I will always be her little girl. ( To read more of my journey, click here… )

Today is Mama’s 88th birthday. Yesterday, Sunday, the family joined us to celebrate her life, surrounding her with our love and prayers. We wore matching T-shirts to honor her. I wanted her to feel our love and let her know how special she is. She is the matriarch of the family.

Today, Mom is being moved to Rehab for a few weeks for therapy and to become stronger. We continue to wait for the final pathology report, trusting the Lord will complete the work He has started in her; she is in His hands.

Life is fleeting. Let go of the petty things. Treasure your loved ones while they are still around.

I am comforted in knowing that when I am weak then my God is strong, and His grace is sufficient for me! Thank you, Lord, that your mercies are new every morning. Thank you, Lord, for another day.

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October 27, 2016 · 1:17 PM

This Language on Love

So, in reading “The 5 Love Languages” by Gary Chapman, he describes in great detail how the word love can be very confusing. We love activities, objects, animals, nature and people. We even fall in love with love. He points out that we use love to explain behavior. “‘I did it because I love her’ says a man who is involved in an adulterous relationship. God calls it sin, but he calls it love. The wife of an alcoholic picks up the pieces after her husband’s latest episode. The psychologist calls it co-dependency, but she calls it love. The parent indulges all the child’s wishes. The family therapist calls it irresponsible parenthood, but the parent calls it love.”

Now I’m not by any means of the imagination a psychologist, a professor, a clergywomen, or a counselor. I am just an ordinary woman. I’m a wife, a mother, a grandmother, a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a cousin, and a girlfriend. But like many, I think all too often we speak the wrong love language. I definitely have.

heart-300x235

In my youth, I did some stupid things out of “love” for a guy. And because I loved him I thought, surely he will come to my way of thinking. He would love me in return, enough to change his behavior and better himself. After all, hadn’t I bent over backwards for him? Worshiped the ground he walked on? Became his doormat? In order to gain his undivided attention, I forgot who I was.

In my teens, I covered my husband’s transgressions. I hid his secret, sin and shame. My way of thinking was: This is why I exist, right? That’s my job, isn’t it? His wish was my command. Barefoot, pregnant and in the kitchen – if only I knew how to cook then. My smile hid the pain in my heart, as well as makeup did the bruises on my face. I hid the grocery money, emptied the liquor bottles, refilling half with water hoping he’d never noticed. I’d called his boss to say he was sick in bed after another blackout episode. I told myself: I protect my interest. I do it all in the name of “love.”

I was tired. But because I loved my children, I eventually allowed my kids the freedom of choice. They started listening to the “hip” music their friends were listening to, and watched certain movies because I knew they were old enough and smart enough not to repeat negative behaviors. Yes, I was inconsistent, worn-out, and haggard. I practiced tough-love, church activities, rules and schedules, but then lost the victory in my own personal life that I toss responsibility to the wind. I got lazy. It became every person for themselves. I started doing my own thing. I felt defeated. Cold-hearted. Bitter. Since I had lost the battle as a wife, for a moment, I had also forgotten that there was still a war to fight for called Motherhood.

That was many moons ago. And I’m happy to say, although far from perfect, I continue to strive to communicate this language in a healthy way.

Just some rambling thoughts today, as I reflect over Gary Chapman’s point of view about the language of love.

What are your thoughts?

© M.A. Pérez, 2016, All Rights Reserved

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November 7, 2013 · 7:54 AM

This Language On Love

heart-300x235

So, in reading “The 5 Love Languages” by Gary Chapman, he describes in great detail how the word love can be very confusing. We love activities, objects, animals, nature and people. We even fall in love with love. He points out that we use love to explain behavior. “‘I did it because I love her’ says a man who is involved in an adulterous relationship. God calls it sin, but he calls it love. The wife of an alcoholic picks up the pieces after her husband’s latest episode. The psychologist calls it co-dependency, but she calls it love. The parent indulges all the child’s wishes. The family therapist calls it irresponsible parenthood, but the parent calls it love.”

Now I’m not by any means of the imagination a psychologist, a professor, a clergywomen, or a counselor. I am just an ordinary woman. I’m a girlfriend, a daughter, a cousin, a sister, a wife, a mother, an aunt, and a grandmother. But like many, I think all too often we speak the wrong love language. I definitely have.

In my youth, I did some stupid things out of “love” for a guy. And because I loved him I thought, surely he will come to my way of thinking. He would love me in return, enough to change his behavior and better himself. After all, hadn’t I bent over backwards for him? Worshipped the ground he walked on? Became his doormat? In order to gain his undivided attention, I forgot who I was.

In my teens, I covered my husband’s transgressions. I hid his secret, sin and shame. My way of thinking was: This is why I exist, right? That’s my job, isn’t it? His wish was my command. Barefoot, pregnant and in the kitchen – if only I knew how to cook then. My smile hid the pain in my heart, as well as makeup did the bruises on my face. I hid the grocery money, emptied the liquor bottles, refilling half with water hoping he’d never noticed. I’d called his boss to say he was sick in bed after another blackout episode. I told myself: I protect my interest. I do it all in the name of “love.”

I was tired. But because I loved my children, I eventually allowed my kids the freedom of choice. They started listening to the “hip” music their friends were listening to, and watched certain movies because I knew they were old enough and smart enough not to repeat negative behaviors. Yes, I was inconsistent, worn-out, and haggard. I practiced tough-love, church activities, rules and schedules, but then lost the victory in my own personal life that I toss responsibility to the wind. I got lazy. It became every person for himself. I started doing my own thing. I felt defeated. Cold-hearted. Bitter. Since I had lost the battle as a wife, for a moment, I had also forgotten that there was still a war to fight for called Motherhood.

That was many moons ago. And I’m happy to say, although far from perfect, I continue to strive to communicate this language in a healthy way.

Just some rambling thoughts today, as I reflect over Gary Chapman’s point of view about the language of love.

What are your thoughts?

© M.A. Perez 2013, All Rights Reserved

8 Comments

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