Memorial Day is a day for remembering and honoring military personnel who DIED in the service of their country, particularly those who died in battle or as a result of wounds sustained in battle.
All gave some – Some gave all.
Mother’s Day is Everyday
My oldest daughter and I were asked to be a part of a workshop at our church speaking on adult daughters and their mother’s relationships. We made a list and examined our strengths as well as our weaknesses. I know from experience that mother-daughter relationships can be both complex and diverse.
There are many ups and downs, no matter how positive or complicated, in testing relationships. Psychologists say the daughters’ primary complaints are that their mothers try to baby them by being overly critical and demanding. From the mom’s perspective, daughters don’t listen to them, make poor choices, and have zero time for them.
I do not find this teaching comfortable or an easy topic for me. Parenting has many challenges, and this thing called “motherhood” hit me between the eyes at an early age. My mom raised me pretty much as a single mom, as she never married after she and my dad split. She had common law relationships–I can think of three–and I was pretty much left alone. So yeah, I was neglected and raised myself. As a matter of fact, our roles were reversed, and so I’ve always felt that my childhood was taken from me!
I left home early and married very young. I had my first child at 17, and by the time I was 22, I had my 4th. Ironically enough, I made many of the same parenting mistakes as my own mother. I wrote about my journey as a daughter, wife, and mother. You can say I was a real hot mess back then. In retrospect, I thank God that He rescued me from myself! Now that my children are adults, I can think of many things I did wrong and regret in my role. But nothing worthwhile comes easy; at least it never did for me!
There are defeats and triumphs in every challenge, and we all have some scars along the way.
Lamentations 3:22-23: “It is of the Lord’s mercies that we are not consumed, because His compassions fail not. They are new every morning: great is thy faithfulness.”
I am familiar with the power struggles, the pet peeves, and the miscommunications.
What I see in my daughter(s), the good, the bad, and the ugly – I sometimes see a reflection of myself. Oh, those flaws! Clearly, I may not always like what I see … or hear. But you know what? We’re on the same team – we love each other and are there for one another.
Jer 31:16: Thus says the LORD, “Restrain your voice from weeping And your eyes from tears; For your work will be rewarded,” declares the LORD, “And they will return from the land of the enemy.”
I can’t stress how I prayed, interceded, and wept for my wayward child (children). But as mothers, that’s what we do! We don’t give up, and we don’t let up until we have God’s peace. Know that it’ll be in His time frame, not necessarily ours. And when God does it, it’ll surely work. He leaves nothing undone.
HOW CAN WE BE STRONGER TOGETHER?
These are a few golden nuggets from my own firstborn’s perspective:
Everybody knows that TWO heads are better than ONE. In Girl Scouts and the 4H Club, you’d learn that three strands of string make a strong rope. To play harmony on a piano, you’d play with two or more notes. And you know, you won’t find a giant redwood tree standing alone!
- Teaching by example and learning by experience, values, and skills help us become stronger together.
- Spending quality time with one another, such as meal times and outings, strengthens us as a family.
- Appreciating each other – showing love and affection.
- Sharing a laugh builds us up – laughter is good medicine.
- Sharing responsibilities and accomplishing tasks together.
- Stand by each other in times of trouble, uniting and pulling together when things get tough… when we encourage each other, we are stronger.
Most importantly, when we learn to forgive each other, be open and honest, yet kind, we become stronger. Remember: attack the problem, not each other.
We encourage each other, consult with each other, spend time together, and learn and grow from each other. No matter the circumstances, despite feelings, perspectives, weaknesses, and “bumps” along the way, when we face life together, find God together, and pray together—all of these acts and then some—we can get through it and be stronger together!
My daughter(s) and I have come a long way. And we have yet further to go.
Ps 90:12 “So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts to wisdom.”
Here are my acronyms for MOTHER & DAUGHTER:
M ake the first move
O mit malice
T hink before responding
H ave realistic expectations
E xtend grace
R epair damage quickly
D are to forgive offenses
A gree to disagree
U nity is better than division
G ather your words with prayer
H old unto hope
T alk about ways to communicate
E mbrace change for the better
R espect each other
If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.
Filed under Mother/Daughter, Relationships
Mother’s Day Tribute to the Women in my Family
Becoming a Mom is watching your heart walk outside your body.
As I reflect on Mother’s Day, I am thinking about the mothers in my own family. Some of us had nurturing in our DNA; some of us never got the memo. Some of us got it down pat; some of us continue to learn by trial and error. None of us are perfect or have it all together. But no matter what, our bloodline flows strong, and our hearts beat true. Children are a blessing. I believe as we look upon our children, young and old, the beating of our hearts never ceases to flutter. Some of us ease into our roles, and some of us, not so much. No one ever gave me a manual on Motherhood, and even if they did, the writer most likely didn’t have children of their own. Why? Because we learn by experience, and we learn by trial and error.
As I gaze upon the eyes of each Mother represented here, I see the sadness of some unanswered prayers, worries about tomorrow, regrets of yesteryear, and the fear of failure. But I also see love, joy, perseverance, tenderness, belonging, pride, and hope for the future — a better tomorrow.
One thing my mother always said and it is worth repeating: You can have ten fathers but only one mother.
Mothers, stand in the gap for your children. No matter what, never give up on them. And in our twilight years, may our children never give up on us.
© M.A. Pérez 2018, All Rights Reserved
Filed under Mother's Day, Tribute to Mothers
I Did, and I’d Do It Again
His laughter lit up my shadows. His eyes were trusting, his voice soothing. He took my hand and led the way. We danced on through the night.
On April 6, 1994—three years after meeting my soul mate and best friend—we joined hands and hearts, locked eyes, repeated our vows before God, family, and friends, and announced, “I do.”
To my beloved husband:
If I never said that I was grateful to you, I say it now. Thank you for being my quiet strength, the voice of reason.
If I didn’t tell you that I loved you, I say it now. I love you with all my heart and can’t imagine my life without you.
Here’s to the rest of our lives.
Filed under Wedding Anniversary
A Word Fitly Spoken …
Re-reading this quote spoken to me so many years ago still brings up a sea of memories of a difficult place in time.
As you can imagine, I was going through hell. All along thinking I was alone, I never realized that God not only heard my cries, but He knew of my pain too! Just like the song goes: He was there all the time–and in my case–God used someone with skin to not only pray but to reach out to me in my darkest hour.
It seemed like forever that I was blinded and so discouraged; I really didn’t see a way out of my situation. But a neighbor, who quickly became a true friend, made me her business. She wasn’t condemning or pushy; she spoke life over me! She was caring and loving and wise beyond her years. She prayed much and gently wooed me back into the arms of my Heavenly Father. Eventually, I received the support I needed and slowly began to heal. Sanity and wisdom kicked in, and I did what I needed to do for myself and for the welfare of my small children.
What am I saying?
I wrote Running in Heels: A Memoir of Grit & Grace so that others might find hope beyond their hopelessness and despair. We’re all walking through something. We all have a story. Some are strong enough to stand on their own, while others need a little encouragement and help in finding their way. They may have been lied to, beaten down, some even to the point of isolation. Ever been ashamed of your pain? I was.
No matter what, you can rise above your circumstances. It takes a made-up mind and a determination to change. Allow your experiences to make you a better person, not a bitter one. Many times what we’ve gone through can help someone else to overcome his or her own struggle.
There are people around you hurting. Make them your business. A warm smile, a kind word, a gentle touch. Show them love. Give them hope. Be the hands and feet of Jesus.
Bloom where you’re planted.
“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Jer. 29:11
Filed under Christianity, encouragement, Kindness
The Day the Earth Stood Still
https://bible.org/illustration/build-me-son-o-lord
Thoughts …
What is your Father’s or Mother’s Prayer for your children? You’ll probably never achieve the level of accomplishment of General Douglas MacArthur, but when all is said and done, what will make you whisper “I have not lived in vain”?
“No, not again! Not now!” I cried out in the bathroom. I’ll call Marisa. She’s always been strong. She has it together.
I reached for the phone and dialed her number. When she answered, I blurted, “The test is positive! I’m pregnant.” She’ll lift my spirits.
“Mary . . .” she began. “How in the world will you care for another baby?”
Then again, maybe not.
“What are you going to do?” Marisa squealed.
I thought, If I knew that, I wouldn’t have called you. Wasn’t I the one supposed to get some reassurances, some guidance, some support here?
“I . . . I don’t know, I thought–”
“Mary, what were you thinking?” she shot back. “You can’t possibly have another baby! You’re only twenty-one; you already have three children, and now number four on its way? Your husband drinks too much, he works only when he wants to…
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I Always Did Love You …
“I always did love you, just had too many problems.”
Ten words on ink and paper.
Handwritten by her.
Pierces my heart.
Quiet pain.
Does she know I exist? Or care? Or want me?
I love her, look up to her; want to be her.
Unspoken. Forsaken.
Isn’t love also a verb?
Hidden shame.
I leave home. Searching for Mr. Right.
Run to him at sixteen. Happily ever after.
Young. Naïve. Taken for granted.
Thinks to mold me into his image.
His way or the highway.
Internal screams.
Motherhood. Baby having babies.
Crawl before walk. Stumble. Fall.
Clinging unto a strand, unraveling.
Faded dreams.
Years overlap. Encumbering.
Emotions are numb.
Hubby seeks greener pastures.
Two-timer. Tosses me to the wolves.
Abandon.
Grown children look back.
Open arms. Nostalgic.
Rebuild the fences.
Dying to live.
Forgive.
Original poem by Mary A. Pérez
Filed under Love, Valentine's Day
Boricuas
We visited my paternal grandparents. My grandpa was Don Angel (pronounced “Annhel”), and my grandma, Doña María. Upon our arrival, we politely greeted them the way Daddy had taught us to, by asking for their blessing in Spanish:
“¿Bedición?”
“¡Dios te bendiga!” they answered, opening their arms, smothering us with bear hugs and wet kisses.
Abuelo was born in 1908 and Abuela in 1907. Both were born in Utuado Puerto Rico and married in their early twenties, ultimately having ten children. Abuela stayed home attending to her brood while Abuelo supported his family as a farmer. (Rumor has it he made a little Moon Shine too). On twenty-five acres, he tended to bananas, tobacco, and coffee crops. He raised chickens and goats and even owned cows that he milked.
Daddy favored Abuelo; everyone said those two could be brothers.
(An excerpt from Running in Heels: A Memoir of Grit and Grace)
© M.A. Pérez 2018, All Rights Reserved
Filed under excerpt, Puertorican farm life
Once Upon a Time
In the mid-1960s, as a girl with my grandparents, we would ride the Metro bus every Sunday to attend services at First Faith Cathedral. Once church was over, we hopped on another bus to downtown that took us to the Painted Horse, a favorite all-you-can-eat restaurant on Biscayne Boulevard. Adults ate for $0.99 and kids ate for $0.49. I preferred the hamburger steak with macaroni and cheese, and even though they displayed Jell-O in every color to choose from, my favorite: red.
After lunch, we would head for the Miami Public Library, near Bayfront Park. Grandpa would walk on ahead, while I strolled along with Grandma under her umbrella. We’d stop by a large pond filled with giant goldfish and feed them crackers. The park was located next to a waterfront where elegant boats and luxurious yachts sailed by. As I waved to them, I imagined how the rich folk lived.
Once we arrived at the library, I’d take the elevator to the children’s section on the second floor while my grandparents remained reading in the downstairs lobby. I strolled the aisles, running my hands across the binders of the books neatly stacked on shelves. I loved the smell of those books, the textures, the colors, and even the different lettering.
My imagination ran wild as I’d choose a fairy tale, sit on a nearby stool, and read about magical and faraway places. In my mind, I turned beautiful and clever all in one.
I pretended to be Cinderella, overjoyed that the glass slipper fit my foot perfectly and that my uncle, the tall Prince Charming, singled me out to dance. I imagined my brother as Hansel and me as Gretel, hunting for food, and then eating chunks of candy broken off the cottage with no evil witch in sight. I pictured myself as Little Red Riding Hood, saving Grandma from the Big Bad Wolf. While reading, I became all those characters and more—until Grandpa called for me, saying, “Mary, time to go home.”
My real so-called adventures didn’t take me to faraway lands like those in the books I read. My adventures were riding around town on those city buses. If the bus was crowded, we stood while swaying back and forth. Back and forth. Grandpa held onto the straps. Unable to reach them, I held onto the bars instead.
“Mary, hold on tight now,” Grandma cautioned. Grandpa stood nearby, ready to steady Grandma or me if needed. I don’t think he enjoyed riding on the bus much.
When it was time, I liked to pull the cord to signal the driver to let us off.
“Now, Grandpa?” I asked, not wanting to miss our stop.
“Not yet. Be patient, young lady.”
“How about now?”
“I’ll let you know when it’s time.”
Eventually, the sunny, bright-colored Sable Palms apartment complex came into view.
“Okay, now, young lady,” Grandpa nodded.
I would kneel on the seat and reach for the cord, or sometimes Grandpa hoisted me up. I pulled on the cord fast, once, twice, and sometimes even three times for the bus driver to stop. Then swoosh the rear doors opened, we exited, and then the doors swooshed closed.
Palm tree-lined winding roads, landscaped and shaded the path to my grandparents’ home. Often, coconuts fell from those towering trees, and I’d run to pick one up for us.
I’ll never forget one day when we arrived home, I overheard Grandpa complaining to Grandma about standing too close to so many people.
“¿Tu ves, Ana?” he said, showing her something. “See? They stole my wallet.”
From the hall, I listened.
“Oh, no!” Grandma gasped, staring at his inside-out pocket in disbelief.
“We have to stand so close we are like sardines. Too easy for someone to put his hands in my back pocket, take my wallet out without me knowing.”
It made me sad to think someone would do something bad to my grandpa, stealing from him as if we were rich. Then again, maybe we were.
(An excerpt from Running in Heels: A Memoir of Grit and Grace)
© M.A. Pérez 2018, All Rights Reserved
I loved books then. I love books now. I remember the simple things in life as a child, with a vivid imagination that took me to wonderful, faraway places.
We all have them. What are some of your fond memories as a child?
From Heart to Heritage
Reflections From the Heart 